I studied his sketches with growing appreciation. Without ever visiting the site, he had identified precisely the vulnerabilities that concerned me most.
"The terrain here," he continued, tracing a finger along a ridgeline, "offers commanding positions for artillery that could dominate the entire harbor. Yet our current defensive plans fail to secure these heights adequately."
"Your assessment matches my own," I confirmed. "Though I lack your technical expertise in fortification."
Kondratenko straightened, meeting my gaze directly for perhaps the first time since we'd met. "Your Highness, I find myself... intrigued by the challenge. More than intrigued."
"Then you'll go?"
"Yes," he said simply. "But not permanently—not yet. A preliminary assessment, as you suggested. Three months should suffice for an initial survey."
I felt a surge of triumph but kept my expression measured. "Excellent. I'll arrange it immediately."
"There is one condition," he added, surprising me.
"Yes?"
"I must understand the nature of this... network you've established. Not names or specifics, but its purpose, its organization. If I'm to contribute meaningfully, I need context."
Could I convince him, in his final days, that the future security of his beloved empire lay not in Europe, but in the distant, neglected territories of the East? Or would I need to wait until the crown passed to me, bringing with it the authority to reshape imperial policy according to my convictions?
I studied him carefully, this brilliant but cautious man. His reputation had not been exaggerated—the keen analytical mind, the unflinching devotion to duty. But there was something else there, a quiet ambition perhaps, or simply the intellectual hunger of a man who had spent his life solving complex problems.
"Very well," I said, moving toward my private study. "What I'm about to share with you goes no further than these walls."
He nodded once, following me into the smaller chamber where a detailed map of the Far East dominated the wall. I locked the door behind us.
"The network, as you call it, serves multiple purposes," I began. "Intelligence gathering, primarily. But also commercial interests, diplomatic channels, and scientific exploration."
"All operating outside official channels?" His tone was neutral, professional.
"Not outside—parallel to them. The official machinery of state moves too slowly, bogged down by bureaucracy and competing interests. European affairs consume all attention while our eastern territories remain vulnerable."
I indicated the sprawling coastline. "The Japanese navy grows stronger each year. The Americans expand their Pacific presence. Britain and Germany seek ports and concessions. Meanwhile, our eastern defenses remain neglected, our knowledge of potential adversaries incomplete."
Kondratenko nodded, his eyes scanning the map. "And the Tsar?"
A delicate question. "My father understands the importance of our eastern territories, but his attention is divided. Court politics, European alliances, internal unrest—all demand his focus."
"So you've taken it upon yourself to address what others neglect." It wasn't a question.
"I've merely created the infrastructure that will allow us to act decisively when the time comes. People I trust, positioned where they can be most effective."
He studied the map silently for several minutes, occasionally murmuring to himself as he traced shipping lanes and territorial boundaries. I waited, giving him time to absorb the implications.
"Your network extends into Manchuria?" he finally asked.
"And Korea, Japan, and the American territories. We have informants in every major port from Vladivostok to San Francisco."
"Impressive," he admitted. "But dangerous. If discovered..."
"The risk is calculated," I assured him. "Most agents believe they work for standard diplomatic or military intelligence. Only a handful understand the true scope."
Kondratenko turned from the map to face me. "And what is that scope, Your Highness? What is your ultimate objective?"
This was the moment of truth. Would he see the vision as I did, or dismiss it as the fantasy of an overreaching prince?
"To secure Russia's future as a Pacific power," I said simply. "Not through conquest, but through strength and foresight. We cannot match Britain's navy globally, nor Germany's industrial might in Europe. But in the East, we have advantages no other power possesses—vast territories, resources, and a position that straddles both Europe and Asia."
I stepped closer to the map. "Port Arthur is the lynchpin. Properly fortified and developed, it becomes our Gibraltar of the East—controlling access to Manchuria and Korea, protecting our Pacific fleet, securing our commercial interests throughout the region."
"And you believe war is coming?" His eyes were sharp, assessing.
"I believe conflict is inevitable when multiple powers pursue the same objectives in the same region. Whether that conflict becomes war depends on how prepared we are to defend our interests."
He nodded slowly. "I see." He turned back to the map, studying it with renewed intensity. "Your network—does it include engineers? Surveyors? People who could assist with the fortification work?"
"It can," I replied. "If you provide specifications."
A hint of a smile crossed his face. "Then perhaps three months will be sufficient after all." He pointed to several locations along the coastline. "I'll need detailed surveys of these areas, water depth measurements here and here, and samples of the local stone and soil composition."
I felt a weight lifting from my shoulders. He understood. More importantly, he was committed.
"Consider it done," I promised. "When can you depart?"
"Give me a week to arrange my affairs and gather the necessary equipment." He hesitated. "Your Highness, I should warn you—my report will go to the War Ministry as well. I cannot in good conscience withhold my findings from the proper authorities."
"I wouldn't ask you to," I assured him. "By all means, submit your official report through proper channels. But I would appreciate a more... candid assessment for my private use."
"Of course." He bowed slightly. "If I may take my leave? There is much to prepare."
"Certainly," I replied, unlocking the door. "Colonel Kondratenko, thank you. Russia will not forget your service."
As he departed, I turned back to the map, allowing myself a moment of satisfaction. The first piece was in place. Soon, very soon, Port Arthur would become the impregnable fortress I envisioned—a declaration to the world that Russia's destiny lay not just in Europe, but across the vast expanses of the East.