Foreign Minister Aoki Shuzo bypassed the hostile Russian entourage, approaching Dmitri Shevich, the Russian Ambassador to Japan, directly. However, Ambassador Dmitri's response proved perplexing.
"This matter transcends my authority as a mere diplomatic representative," Dmitri stated carefully. "I cannot provide any official response until receiving explicit instructions from St. Petersburg."
"Ambassador," Aoki implored, "let us set aside our previous disagreements in the face of this grave situation. The Crown Prince remains isolated, supposedly incapacitated, and Admiral Romen controls all access and information!"
"I reiterate: I cannot issue any statement regarding these circumstances."
As the Foreign Minister struggled to contain his mounting frustration, the Ambassador glanced furtively around before leaning forward to whisper:
"That madman Romen has inflamed the situation beyond reason. He's even suggested we might need immediate evacuation from Japanese territory. The fool acts entirely on his own initiative, without even consulting me!"
"What recourse remains?" Aoki asked desperately. "Reports indicate the Tsar will certainly escalate this incident once informed!"
"Resolution must come swiftly. War... would devastate both our nations."
The situation presented Russia with perfect leverage. No other power could intervene, and if negotiations collapsed, hostilities might commence immediately.
"This cannot be permitted," Aoki murmured. "Further concessions now would collapse our continental strategy entirely."
When Japan had scarcely secured a foothold on the mainland, they might instead lose territory?
Such an outcome would instantly derail Japan's grand imperial ambitions. Even before that nightmare materialized, Russia could easily dislodge Japan's precarious position through Korea.
Queen Min, that cunning fox, continually seeks Russian alliance.
Expulsion from Korea—where China, Russia, and Japan maintained a delicate balance of influence—would devastate imperial aspirations.
While Ambassador Dmitri's sincerity remained questionable, one point commanded agreement—this incident must not linger.
Resolve it conclusively before Crown Prince Nicholas departs.
Offer sincere apology and substantial compensation.
We must begin by invoking imperial law regarding lèse-majesté.
Execute Tsuda Sanzo, have the imperial family personally apologize, provide compensation, and expedite the Russians' departure.
This approach might prevent war and preserve Japan's territorial integrity.
"Contact the Prime Minister immediately," Aoki ordered. "This requires response beyond government level—the imperial family itself must intervene."
The highest possible diplomatic gesture: Emperor Meiji himself, as a fellow sovereign, should engage directly.
The experienced Foreign Minister believed that imperial intervention would convey sufficient sincerity to reach Crown Prince Nicholas.
Ultimately, it reduces to money. Russia perpetually requires funding.
Why had reforms proven so challenging in Russia? Why had its military potency gradually diminished?
Because financial resources remained chronically inadequate.
The nation exported primarily agricultural products—nothing exceptional or unique.
Conversely, while heavily dependent on imports from industrialized nations, Russia had fallen progressively behind as other powers developed, becoming like a carriage mired in rasputitsa—the seasonal mud that rendered Russian roads impassable.
Did I, as Crown Prince, possess substantial wealth?
Not particularly. While my nominal assets included lands, artworks, buildings, and imperial business interests, most remained ambiguously defined as personal property and proved difficult to liquidate.
Unlike certain other monarchies, I couldn't simply sell titles or offices to generate revenue. What options remained?
I might as well maintain this bedridden posture.
Some might suspect pretense, but my forehead genuinely continued to throb.
Approximately fifty million yen would constitute appropriate compensation...
Two days until my fiftieth birthday...
Combat experience: Lena River minefield installation, Turkish monitor bombardment.
Career progression: from junior escort vessel officer to cruiser fleet admiral.
Admiral Romen wondered whether his current actions truly represented proper conduct.
Nevertheless, orders remained orders. He would execute them diligently.
"After two days of unconsciousness," he informed the Japanese delegation, "the Crown Prince has awakened but remains in an exceedingly agitated state."
"We wish to personally convey our deepest apologies—" Foreign Minister Aoki began.
"He refuses all visitors," Romen interrupted. "Only his closest aides and myself have been permitted direct audience."
"I see..."
"Why would you orchestrate such an atrocity?!"
Here the Admiral paused deliberately, passing a handkerchief across his face as though mastering powerful emotion, before continuing with forced composure:
"How could you inflict this upon such a gentle soul? Can you genuinely assert the Japanese government had no involvement?"
Though communicating through an interpreter, Foreign Minister Aoki comprehended everything from the Admiral's tone alone.
This represents our gravest predicament. The Crown Prince who initially displayed extraordinary goodwill—even bowing in greeting—has transformed into an adversary.
Beyond securing mere forgiveness, having earned the animosity of a future absolute monarch constituted a profound diplomatic catastrophe.
"His Highness possesses," Romen continued carefully, "unwavering convictions. He does not readily abandon what he deems correct. This precisely explains his selection of Japan for this tour—to witness firsthand the peace you claimed to maintain in the Far East."
"We understand. We were genuinely grateful for his interest."
"What relevance does that hold now? Everything has collapsed. We depart in three days."
Admiral Romen's demeanor—clearly prioritizing emotion over diplomacy—befitted a military officer.
His emergence actually benefits us. Emotional states remain susceptible to circumstantial changes.
The same principle would apply to the Crown Prince. Four days had passed since the incident, and apparently the Tsar remained uninformed.
Time grows short. We must delay their departure under the pretext of formal apology, and implement comprehensive damage control within that window.
While outwardly expressing profound sympathy with Admiral Romen and displaying genuine devastation, Aoki gradually discerned a narrow possibility.
"Since direct audience remains impossible," Romen continued, "I have intervened personally. Therefore—"
"His Imperial Majesty!" Aoki interrupted suddenly.
"Pardon?"
"Our Emperor himself will travel to Kyoto. I implore you—do not depart before his arrival."
Romen fell silent.
Aoki had played his strongest card. Should they refuse and depart regardless, they would appear to reject Imperial apology.
"Foreign Minister," Romen sighed. "Did I not just explain His Highness's aversion to such encounters?"
"Precisely why we require the Admiral's assistance. To speak plainly, the Emperor's personal involvement demonstrates our willingness to accept any terms of apology, compensation, or proposal deemed appropriate."
"Your sincerity is... evident."
"Water once spilled cannot be gathered again. We cannot remain passive."
That explains my negotiating with a mere admiral like yourself. Speak plainly—what do you want?
Had this negotiation involved the representative from Vladivostok or even Ambassador Dmitri directly, the agenda would prove transparent.
They would subtly introduce territorial considerations and connect them to this incident.
Better to resolve matters immediately—without generating lasting resentment or sustaining major damage.
"Even if you present such arguments—" Romen began.
"With respect, Admiral," Aoki interrupted, "in Crown Prince Nicholas's absence, you currently represent the highest authority in this delegation."
"Indeed? Well then, I must consider His Highness's best interests."
The Admiral, evidently struggling with the diplomatic complexities, hesitated momentarily before offering one suggestion:
"The Tsar harbors profound appreciation for naval vessels. Similarly, Crown Prince Nicholas cherishes ships above all else."
"Is that so?"
"Perhaps funding construction of one substantial vessel? Such a gift would carry profound significance for both father and son, and His Highness would surely be gratified."
"A ship? What an excellent proposition!"
Aoki had anticipated demands for several major islands, or concessions regarding Korea or China—but merely one ship?
Moreover, considering the symbolism inherent in such a gift, this recommendation certainly reflected thoughtful consideration from a trusted advisor.
While a major ironclad vessel would command significant expense, nevertheless—
"Adjutant!" Aoki called. "What major vessels currently undergo construction internationally?"
"Britain's Majestic-class battleship presently occupies their shipyards. At 16,000 tons displacement, it represents the largest existing design."
"Then our offering should exceed even that, correct?"
"Undoubtedly. The world's largest warship should surpass 20,000 tons fully armed... Converted to yen... Approximately fifty million? No, since our shipbuilding capacity trails Britain's, direct construction would incur premium costs. At minimum, sixty million yen."
"What?"
The interpreter relayed these figures in real-time. For a moment, Aoki suspected a unit conversion error, but the subsequent numbers maintained consistent denomination.
"Having spent my entire career aboard ship," Romen remarked, "I lack precise understanding of financial matters. Nevertheless, approximately sixty million yen in Japanese currency seems appropriate."
Aoki remained speechless.
"Is monetary value truly significant?" Romen continued. "Since His Majesty the Emperor himself approaches, sincerity surely outweighs mere financial considerations."
Reparations. They explicitly demanded monetary compensation equivalent to war indemnity.
The choice confronting Aoki Shuzo crystalized with brutal clarity:
Pay reparations before fighting a war.
Or pay reparations after fighting a war.
He could not readily determine the preferable option.