Two days had passed since the military march, and Prince Alexander found himself standing outside a high-security cell in Gulag, flanked by the Chief of Staff of the Imperial Guards, Rolan, and a small army of police officers. Their footsteps echoed through the stark hallway as they approached the cell of the man who posed a significant threat to the prince's reign: Ralf Hietela.
The heavy metal door groaned on its hinges as it swung open, revealing a disheveled figure huddled on a narrow cot. Ralf's ragged clothes barely covered his emaciated frame, his face a mess of bruises and cuts, and his body shivering uncontrollably from the bitter Siberian cold. Despite his pitiful state, Ralf's eyes glinted with fierce defiance as he raised his head to look at the visitors.
Alexander stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Hietela's face. "Ralf Hietela," he said, his voice cold and unwavering. "I have come to see you."
Hietela looked up at Alexander, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and defiance.
"What do you want?" he spat out, his voice hoarse from days of screaming.
"To see you before you get executed of course," Alexander said flippantly. "I heard that you are not behaving well while you are being contained, prompting the guards to knock some manners into you. I must say, I'm disappointed that you continue to be a nuisance even in your captivity."
"Do you really think that this is the end huh? That you captured me and it is all over? I'm merely a pawn by something that you can't even fathom," Ralf paused, coughing harshly before continuing. "I may be imprisoned, but the cause I fight for will never die. You will see, Prince Alexander, that your empire will crumble, and your reign will end."
Alexander raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by Ralf's threats. "And what is the cause of that, Ralf? What is it that you think you're fighting for?"
Ralf sneered at him. "You'll never understand. You and your kind are too blinded by power and privilege to see the truth. But mark my words, Prince Alexander, the revolution is coming, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."
Alexander's expression remained impassive as he regarded Ralf. "I have no doubt that there are those who wish to see my empire fall, but they will not succeed. My people are loyal to me, and I will stop at nothing to protect them and maintain order."
Ralf laughed bitterly. "Your people? No, those are not the kind I'm referring to. I meant something even higher."
"Even if those higher people you are referring to manage to take me down, I don't think they'll be able to consolidate power. You see, I have become the very symbol of hope and change in the Ruthenia Empire. It won't change overnight. So your words are wasted on me. To me, you are nothing more than a terrorist and a traitor, Ralf. And you will be dealt with accordingly."
Ralf tried to respond, but his voice failed him, and he only managed to cough weakly. Alexander gave him a cold nod and turned on his heel, motioning for Rolan and the guards to follow him. As they made their way back through the bleak corridors of the Gulag, Alexander couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered within him. Ralf's words had hit a nerve, even if he refused to show it.
When they finally emerged from the prison, the icy winds of Siberia greeted them, whipping their cloaks and stinging their faces. Alexander paused for a moment, taking a deep breath of the frigid air.
"The people they are referring to, I wonder who they are? If they have infiltrated the government then there's only one thing we can do," Alexander said.
"What would it be, Your Majesty?" Rolan asked.
"I want background checks on every politician and general serving the Ruthenia Empire. Leave no stone unturned. We need to ensure that no one is working against us from within," Alexander replied, his voice resolute.
Rolan nodded, his expression serious. "Understood, Your Majesty. I will have our intelligence agents begin the investigations immediately."
"Good," Alexander said, his gaze turning towards the horizon. "We cannot afford to be complacent. The future of our empire depends on our ability to root out any threats and maintain order."
The personal helicopter of the Emperor hovered in the distance, its rotor blades chopping through the air as it prepared to land. Alexander and his entourage made their way towards it, the gusts of wind whipping their cloaks and hair about. As they boarded the aircraft, Alexander turned to look out the window at the desolate Siberian landscape below.
"Are we going back to the Winter Palace?" Rolan asked.
"Yeah, take me there, I want to rest," Alexander said, his tone tired. He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as the helicopter lifted off the ground and soared into the sky. The whirring of the rotor blades was drowned out by the hum of the engines as they flew across the vast Siberian wilderness.
Nine hours later.
As they approached the Winter Palace, Alexander could see the city of St. Petersburg stretching out before him. The white domes and spires of the city's churches and palaces gleamed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the bleak landscape they had just left behind.
As the helicopter touched down on the Palace grounds, Alexander stepped out, his fatigue weighing heavily on him. He made his way through the ornate halls of the Palace, his footsteps echoing on the marble floors as he headed toward his chambers.
As he entered his room, he was greeted by the sight of his bed, its soft, plush covers inviting him to rest. Alexander sat down on the bed, feeling the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.
He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm himself. His thoughts drifted back to Ralf Hietela's words and the threat of revolution that hung over his Empire. But he thought that it is impossible now.
Seconds later, there was a knock on the door.
Alexander opened his heavy eyelids and looked at the door.
"You didn't tell me that you were arriving?"
It was his wife, Sophie, her gorgeous face and lustrous golden hair illuminated by the light filtering through the windows. She was dressed in an elegant gown, the fabric flowing gracefully around her as she moved.
"I wanted it to be a surprise," Alexander said with a small smile, happy to see her after being away for so long.
Sophie smiled back at him, her blue eyes sparkling with affection. "Well, you succeeded. How was your trip?"
Alexander let out a tired sigh. "Long and exhausting."
Sophie giggled softly as she sat next to him. She lifted his head and set it down on her lap, gently running her fingers through his hair. "You work too hard, my love. You need to take better care of yourself."
Alexander closed his eyes, "I know. How's the thing going on your end?"
"Well, in the art school, there is this man from Deutschland who was admitted into the program. He's incredibly talented, and I think he has a bright future ahead of him," Sophie replied, her voice tinged with excitement. "I believe his name is Alois Hitler?"
Alexander's exhaustion suddenly went away upon hearing the name of the boy.
"What?!"
"Oh my…why? Do you know him by any chance?" Sophie asked, surprised at the sudden question.
Alexander calmed himself down and slowly sunk the back of his head into the softness of Sophie's lap. "No, I do not know him."
"Then why did you just act like that?" Sophie asked.
"Nothing really," Alexander dodged the question.
"Well, if you say so, my love."
Alexander's thought was racing. So he is also in this world huh? He hoped that he would stay in the art school.
"Oh, darling, there will be a new hospital funded by charity opening in Moksva tomorrow. Do you want to come?"
"Yeah…count me in."
