The Bear and the Eagle

While the British lion was being silently ensnared in a web of debt and deceit in London, the other great powers of the world were beginning to make their own moves on the global chessboard. The Dragon Emperor's summons had acted as a catalyst, forcing every nation to reassess its position and choose a strategy.

On the windswept, grassy steppes of Outer Mongolia, a column of rough-looking horsemen escorted a train of heavily laden camels. At their head was a powerful Mongol Khan named Toghrul, a man who claimed direct descent from the lineage of Genghis Khan and who chafed under the rule of the Qing. He was meeting a small party that had traveled a great distance to see him. They were not Chinese, but Russians, disguised as fur traders. Their leader was a rugged, bearded man named Dimitri Volkov, an agent of the Tsar's secret service.

They met in the Khan's great yurt, the air thick with the smell of woodsmoke and fermented mare's milk.

"The Great Tsar in St. Petersburg has heard the cries of the Mongol people," Volkov said, his voice a low, respectful rumble. He spoke a flawless, guttural Mongolian. "He knows you suffer under the heel of the Manchu, and now this new Han Emperor in Beijing who sees you as nothing but subjects for his tax collectors."

Khan Toghrul spat into the fire. "The Dragon in Beijing is strong. His new armies are disciplined. Words of friendship from a distant Tsar are a pleasant sound, but they cannot stop bullets."

"Then perhaps these will," Volkov said. He gestured to his men, who opened a large, heavy crate. Inside, nestled in grease-soaked wool, lay rows of brand-new, gleaming Mosin-Nagant rifles, complete with bayonets and thousands of rounds of ammunition. The Khan's eyes widened. These were modern, powerful weapons, far superior to the old matchlocks and swords his men possessed.

"The Tsar offers you more than words," Volkov said. "He offers you a different path. A path to freedom. He offers you friendship, alliance, and the tools to win back your ancestral lands."

The Khan ran a hand over the smooth wood and cold steel of a rifle. "And what does the White Tsar ask for in return for such magnificent gifts?" he asked, his voice now sharp with interest.

"He asks only that you reclaim what is rightfully yours," Volkov replied smoothly. "He asks only that you remind the Emperor in Beijing that his empire is vast and not so easily controlled. Be a thorn in the dragon's side. Harass his western garrisons. Cut the supply lines to his new settlements. Light a fire on his border that will force him to turn his gaze away from the north, away from us."

Khan Toghrul lifted one of the rifles. It was heavy, solid, and deadly. It was the weight of possibility. The weight of a new Mongol empire. He smiled, a fierce, predatory expression. "Tell your Tsar," he said, "that the wolf of the steppe accepts his friendship."

The first flames of the Russian-backed insurgency had been lit on QSH's vulnerable western flank.

Thousands of miles away, under a blistering tropical sun, a different kind of power was making its presence known. The full might of the American Great White Fleet, having completed its long and historic journey from the Atlantic, steamed in a magnificent, single column into Subic Bay in the Philippines. The gleaming white hulls of the battleships—the USS Oregon, the Iowa, the Massachusetts—were a stark and stunning declaration of America's arrival as a true Pacific power.

On the bridge of the flagship Oregon, a young and ambitious Commodore named George Dewey stood with Theodore Roosevelt, who had arrived as a special envoy from the President. Roosevelt, dressed in a practical white linen suit, looked out at the fleet with a proprietary, almost boyish glee.

"It's a magnificent sight, isn't it, Commodore?" Roosevelt exclaimed, his voice booming. "The finest fleet this nation has ever assembled! A testament to American industry and American will! We are ready for any contingency."

"Indeed we are, Mr. Secretary," Dewey replied, his professional gaze sweeping over his ships. "But what, precisely, is our purpose here? Are we preparing for war with China?"

"Our purpose here is not war, Commodore," Roosevelt said, his expression becoming more serious. "Not yet. Our purpose is to make a statement. For fifty years, the European powers have treated the Pacific as their private playground. This Dragon Emperor has shattered their games, but he intends to build his own locked garden in its place." He gestured out at the fleet. "This is our declaration that the Pacific is an ocean, not a garden. We are here to ensure the 'Open Door' to trade remains open. We are the counterweight to the dragon's ambition."

But Roosevelt was not a man to sit and wait. He believed in action, in taking the initiative. While the Europeans schemed in their embassies, he intended to meet the problem head-on.

"I will be traveling to Beijing as part of the American delegation to the conference," he told Dewey. "It is vital that we attend and represent our own interests. But before I do, I want to send a message to our new American consul in Nagasaki."

He began to dictate a telegram. "Tell him to request a private, informal audience with the Chinese Emperor. He is not to present himself as a supplicant asking for peace, nor as a representative of a hostile power. He is to present himself as a representative of a fellow great power, one that is intrigued, not intimidated, by the events that have transpired."

Dewey looked surprised. "A private meeting? Do you think he will grant it?"

"I do," Roosevelt said with a confident grin. "Men like him, men of immense ego and power, are always curious. He will want to know who we are. He will want to take our measure, just as I want to take his. It is time someone spoke to him not as a barbarian to be contained, or a god to be worshipped, but as a man."

The final move of the episode played out in QSH's command center in Nagasaki. He was reviewing reports on the progress of his new land reforms when Shen Ke entered with two dispatches.

"Your Majesty," the spymaster began, "two pieces of significant news from our foreign networks." He presented the first. "Our agents in Mongolia and the western provinces confirm that modern, Russian-made rifles are appearing in large numbers among the Mongol tribes. They are stirring up trouble, raiding our border garrisons and supply depots. The Tsar has begun his game."

QSH barely glanced at the report, a look of bored contempt on his face. "A predictable and clumsy move. He thinks to distract a tiger by setting loose a few stray dogs at its tail. Let them play their games in the desert. It is a distraction of no consequence."

"The second piece of news is… more interesting," Shen Ke said, handing over the second dispatch. "The American battle fleet has arrived in force at the Philippines. A massive display of naval power. And a high-ranking American official, a man named Theodore Roosevelt, who serves as their Assistant Secretary of the Navy, has made an unusual request through their consul in this city. He has requested a private meeting with you, to take place before the conference in Beijing."

QSH fell silent. He walked to the great map of the world. His focus for months had been on Japan, and his long-term strategic planning had centered on the old empires of Europe—Britain, Germany, France, Russia. He had dismissed the United States as a noisy, isolationist upstart, a nation of merchants with no appetite for the grand game of empires. But this… this was a bold move. A move of confidence.

He looked at the map, his eyes moving from the smoldering fires on his western border to the sudden, formidable concentration of power in the Philippines. He had been focused on the bear and the lion. He had not been paying enough attention to the eagle.

He looked down at the name on the dispatch: Theodore Roosevelt.

"An American," QSH said, a flicker of genuine, intellectual interest in his eyes. "They are impatient. And ambitious." He smiled faintly, a true, curious smile. "This Roosevelt… he does not act like the others. He does not hide in the shadows. He announces his presence with a fleet of battleships and then asks to talk. I am intrigued."

He turned to Shen Ke. "Grant him the meeting. Here. In Nagasaki. Let him come to me. I am curious to see what the screaming eagle has to say to the dragon."