Georgy Konstantinovich was born into an ordinary artisan family in the outskirts of Kislev. His father was a cobbler, and his mother a seamstress. In his youth, he lived through the prosperous reign of the previous Red Tsar, Boris Ursus. With such a background, he had the opportunity to attend a school run by the Ursun Church, where he excelled academically. He was later conscripted into the army and, as a teenager, began participating in Boris's various pacification campaigns and anti-bandit operations. Shortly after Katarin ascended to the throne, Georgy, then in his early twenties, was chosen to serve in the bear cavalry. There, he earned distinction in the defensive counterattack at the Fort of Jakova, successfully repelling the Green Skin tribes of the Red Eye Clan, even though both sides suffered significant losses.
Following this, Georgy's good fortune seemed endless. Due to Katarin's limited trust in the veteran generals loyal to her father, she opted to promote young, capable officers from Kislev's own ranks. Georgy's rapid rise through the ranks culminated in his promotion to bear cavalry brigadier general by the time of the Battle of Zedovka.
After the catastrophic losses at Zedovka and the subsequent retreat to Erengrad, Georgy continued to distinguish himself under Marshal Rokossovsky's command in several key battles. His meteoric rise continued, eventually earning him command responsibilities during the Bagration Campaign and the return to Couronne. When Rokossovsky, perpetually under the shadow of his status as a condemned criminal and the manipulations of Belial, was sidelined, Georgy was conveniently positioned to assume the role of acting commander. His performance earned him a rapid promotion to General of the Army, skipping two ranks, courtesy of Sulia's decree.
Now, thousands of soldiers stood ready to heed his orders. Even the Tsarina's envoy, who once represented imperial authority, now knelt before him. The Romanov Guard had been disarmed and awaited his judgment.
As for Vladimir, the acting mayor, Georgy inwardly held him in contempt. In terms of credentials, Georgy had served as a bear cavalryman during the era of the Red Tsar, a seasoned soldier with significant authority. Aside from Marshal Rokossovsky, he was effectively the second-most powerful figure in the Erengrad Guard (as Marshal Kuznetsov had accepted Sulia's offer to stay in Bretonnia).
By contrast, Vladimir was little more than a fortunate pig swept up by the winds of change. He had stumbled into favor after aligning with Duke François and his army, thereby earning his recommendation. Just two days ago, Georgy and Vladimir, representing the Shiravik faction, had negotiated terms with Knight King Ryan and Imperial Duchess Emilia. Neither Nuln nor Bretonnia would interfere in Erengrad's internal affairs, provided the Shiravik faction safeguarded their economic interests and maintained order in the surrounding areas.
Unlike Rokossovsky, who was cautious and apolitical, Georgy had always been deeply interested in governance. With military power firmly in hand, he now felt he was the rightful leader of Shiravik.
This ambition was written all over his face and reflected in his actions. Waving his hand grandly, the bear cavalry general ordered, "Take them away! These palace officials are the root cause of Kislev's plight. They must face public trial!"
"For the Tsarina! Punish the traitors!"
"Restore the Romanov royal family! Purge the corrupt palace officials!"
"For the Tsarina! Punish the traitors!"
The chants reverberated across the square, accompanied by songs and deafening applause.
However, not far away, Belial, the Ungol Corps commander, watched with a grim expression. His face turned pale, and he shivered before wiping his brow nervously.
This wasn't part of the plan! What was Georgy doing? Public trials? With the crowd this riled up, wouldn't this inevitably lead to calls for executions by hanging or even beheadings?
"Idiot!" Belial stamped his foot angrily and immediately set off to find Rokossovsky to stop the madness.
Before he could act, the sound of a cane tapping against the ground interrupted him.
"Few can covet such supreme power and not succumb to tyranny," said Talleyrand as he approached with his cane. The high elf's face bore a sly smile. "It seems, General Belial, that your chosen candidate is less than ideal."
This was the first face-to-face meeting between Belial and Talleyrand. The Ungol general sized up the elf in front of him: a smiling, cunning man with the slyness and ruthlessness of a fox, constantly scheming.
To Talleyrand, Belial resembled a fierce and shrewd wolfhound—violent and brutal, yet restrained by a leash.
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Talleyrand," Belial said, extending his hand.
"The honor is mine, General Belial," Talleyrand replied, smoothly switching his cane to his other hand before shaking.
The two exchanged a firm handshake.
"I'd love to chat further, General, but I must advise you to immediately inform His Majesty Ryan of this development," Talleyrand said, withdrawing his hand. The elf's expression turned serious. "And tell him, from me, that he and Duchess Emilia should deploy all their elite troops without delay."
"Some ambitions must be extinguished before they can spread!"
Belial frowned deeply but refrained from questioning Talleyrand. He glanced at the elf's cane and, after a moment of thought, simply nodded. Thanking him, he mounted his warhorse and rode off.
"Hmm hmm," Talleyrand chuckled coldly, watching Belial's retreating figure. He pulled a small bottle of vodka from his pocket, took a sip, and shook his head at the chaos unfolding in the square. "A dog is still a dog. You have to keep it on a leash, or it will bite."
Just as Georgy was reveling in his triumph and preparing to put the Tsarina's envoy on public trial, the blaring sound of horns suddenly echoed from all directions.
"Toot! Toot! Toot!!!"
The rhythmic clatter of boots and iron-shod hooves sent waves of unease through the square. From all sides, Bretonnian knightly contingents led by Grail Knights, along with Bertrand and Davout's Old Guard, and Earlstein's Blackstone Guard supported by the Nuln Ironclad Infantry, poured into the square. They quickly encircled the Erengrad Guard.
With the arrival of the imposing Old Guard and the Nuln Ironclads, escorting none other than Knight King Ryan and Duchess Emilia, silence fell over the square.
The Blackstone Guard's greatswordsmen and heavily armored pikemen cleared a path.
For the Tsarina's envoy, it was like salvation had come. Tears streamed down his face as he collapsed to the ground, crying out, "Your Majesty, King Ryan! Save me! I'm just a messenger—I know nothing, nothing at all!"
Ryan glanced briefly at the bound and humiliated Arakcheyev but did not respond. Instead, he summoned Belial, whispered a few instructions, and sent him off. Within minutes, Belial delivered a quiet warning to Vladimir.
The acting mayor immediately addressed the crowd. "Everyone, calm down! It's midday, and people are trying to take a nap. Do you really want His Majesty's Old Guard to join you in chanting slogans? They're not exactly Tsarina Katarin's subjects, are they?"
The crowd burst into laughter, followed by applause. Soldiers and refugees appreciated Vladimir's approachable demeanor. Over the past few days, he had made several public appearances, whereas most Erengrad citizens would never see Katarin in their lifetime.
Gradually, the soldiers and onlookers dispersed, leaving only General Georgy waiting for further instructions.
The next moment felt like a bucket of cold water poured over Georgy's head.
Belial whispered a few words to Vladimir, who nodded. The acting mayor then turned to the soldiers and citizens. "Release the Tsarina's envoy and his Romanov Guards. They're here on official business, not just with us but also with His Majesty King Ryan and Duchess Emilia. They have important documents to deliver. Let's not forget, it was our Bretonnian brothers who helped us liberate this city."
Reluctantly, the crowd agreed. The envoy and his guards were unbound, their weapons returned. Vladimir handed over several scrolls of parchment for Arakcheyev to deliver to Katarin and then ordered them escorted out of the city.
The Red Navy complied, and the envoy's entourage left Erengrad in disgrace, clutching the funds secured from Ryan. Humiliated and cowed, they didn't dare look back.
Throughout the entire ordeal, Georgy had been ignored. It was as if he didn't exist. Standing atop his war bear, he watched helplessly as events unfolded without his input.
One of his aides finally approached. "General, let's go back. It's cold outside."
"Cold…" Georgy muttered, tightening his cloak. His ambitions momentarily extinguished, he realized he couldn't challenge Ryan's authority. "Forget it. Let's go."
Twenty minutes later, inside Frosthold, Talleyrand and Belial stood before Ryan and Emilia. Emilia, still sleepy and lounging lazily, yawned. Morgiana sat nearby, crafting divine scrolls.
"Talleyrand, your warning was timely," Ryan said, praising the elf. After a moment's thought, he shook his head. "I should have anticipated this. Those with power often succumb to ambition. Unlike Rokossovsky, who has
faced countless setbacks and still bears the stigma of a death sentence, Georgy has tasted nothing but success."
"I'm honored to serve, Your Majesty," Talleyrand replied, casting a glance at the sullen Belial. With a smug bow, the elf continued, "However, there's no need for undue concern. As I've said before, a little discipline will suffice. Let the Kislevites understand their place. As long as we control their logistics, they can't rise against us…"
Belial stepped forward and knelt on one knee. "This is my failure, Your Majesty. I chose the wrong man. The fault lies with me."
"This isn't your fault, Belial," Ryan said with a smile, gesturing for him to rise. "If I'm not mistaken, Georgy was recommended by Konstantin, wasn't he?"
Belial hesitated briefly before nodding. "Yes, Your Majesty. He was a decorated officer from the Red Tsar's era, a full-blooded Kislevite, a mid-level Legendary warrior with proven command experience. Everyone believed he was the right choice, including myself. I advised Queen Sulia to approve him, so the blame is mine. I'm willing to take full responsibility."
Ryan shook his head again. "No, Belial. Stand up. This wasn't your fault."
Belial breathed a sigh of relief. He knew Ryan valued subordinates who took initiative and accepted responsibility. Far from punishing such individuals, Ryan often supported them, ensuring their loyalty and effectiveness. Unlike Katarin, who preferred obedient followers and despised independent thinkers, Ryan encouraged his officers to think for themselves and handle crises.
Ryan's voice broke his thoughts. "Now, we wait to see how Katarin responds. What do you think she'll do, Belial?"
Belial considered this for a moment before answering. "Her Majesty will likely grasp the situation quickly. However, she'll struggle to make a decision. Whether she agrees to Shiravik's demands to punish her ministers and limit her power or refuses them, the outcome will be the same."
Ryan nodded in agreement. "Indeed. So, what will she do?"
At that moment, Talleyrand spoke up. "Your Majesty, the Tsarina may take a third path. Consider her circumstances: the news of Erengrad's liberation, her ongoing struggles, and her usual methods. I suspect your successful Spring Storm Campaign will give her a false sense of confidence. She might believe she can resolve this crisis herself, much like how Lord Tyrion often handles opposition in the Asur court."
"You mean… a northern expedition?"
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