"And in exchange?" Witte pressed.
"A thirty-year lease on Port Arthur and the surrounding Liaodong Peninsula. Railway concessions connecting Port Arthur to our Trans-Siberian line. And exclusive mining rights in northern Manchuria."
The room fell silent as my advisors absorbed the magnitude of these demands.
"That would effectively make Manchuria a Russian protectorate," observed Witte finally.
"In practice if not in name," I agreed. "But from Qing's perspective, better Russian influence than Japanese conquest."
"The other powers will object," warned Governor Sergei. "Particularly Britain."
"Let them," I said dismissively. "Britain's naval power means little in Manchuria. They may protest, but they won't risk conflict over territory they can't effectively reach."
Kondratenko, who had remained silent throughout this exchange, finally spoke. "Your Highness, there's another consideration. Port Arthur's defenses are inadequate for modern warfare. Securing the port is meaningless unless we can protect it."
"Yes, Your Highness," he replied, the formality of his response belying the genuine commitment I now detected in his manner. My "eccentric" obsession had become his professional challenge.
"One final matter," I added. "Draft orders transferring operational command of all Far Eastern forces to Governor Sergei, with expanded authority to requisition resources and personnel. The orders will bear my signature but take effect only upon... confirmation from St. Petersburg."
The foreign minister shifted uncomfortably. "Excellency, surely we aren't considering challenging Russia directly? Our forces are committed to the Chinese campaign."
"Not now," Ito agreed. "But soon, perhaps sooner than we planned. The young Crown Prince understands what his father never did—that Asia's future will be decided in these waters and lands."
He turned back to face his minister. "Accelerate our naval construction program. Double it if necessary. And prepare contingency plans for securing our position in Korea against Russian interference."
"The budget—"
"Will be found," Ito interrupted firmly. "China's reparations will help, but we must be prepared to sacrifice. Japan's future depends on it."
As his minister departed to implement these orders, Ito returned to the window. Beyond the immediate triumph over China lay a greater challenge—one embodied in the figure of a young Russian Crown Prince who seemed to see too clearly the shape of things to come.
"Never again," he murmured, echoing the vow he had made after the humiliation three years earlier. "Never again will Japan bow its head in submission."
The chessboard of East Asia had been upended. New pieces moved into position, and two players—one ascending to the Russian throne, one guiding Japan's imperial ambitions—prepared for a confrontation that would shape the century to come.
In St. Petersburg, the news of Father's deteriorating condition reached me through a telegram delivered during our final planning session. The physician's clinical language did little to mask the urgency—I was needed at the Winter Palace immediately. The time I had counted on, the precious months needed to secure my eastern strategy before assuming the throne, had evaporated.
"Gentlemen," I announced, folding the telegram carefully. "We must conclude our business. I depart for St. Petersburg within the hour."
Witte studied my face, understanding instantly. "Your Highness, we should postpone these decisions until—"
"No," I interrupted firmly. "Our course is set. Implement the plans as discussed. I want preliminary approaches made to the Qing representatives before I reach the capital."
Kondratenko bowed his head slightly. "The fortification plans will be ready for your review upon your return, Your Highness."
I nodded, appreciating his tact in not saying "upon your accession." Everyone in the room understood what my hasty departure meant.
As the ministers gathered their papers, Governor Sergei approached me privately. "Your Highness, a delicate matter. Our intelligence indicates Japanese agents have been particularly active in Manchuria these past weeks. They may have gotten wind of our intentions."
"Inevitable," I replied. "But it changes nothing. The Japanese lack the resources to challenge us directly, particularly with their forces committed to China."
"And if they accelerate their timetable? Move on Korea before we're properly established in Port Arthur?"
I considered this. "Then we accommodate them—temporarily. Korea is not worth a premature confrontation. Our priority must be securing Port Arthur and the railway connections. Once those are established, we can address the Korean question from a position of strength."
The Governor nodded, though his expression suggested he remained unconvinced. "Safe journey, Your Highness. God be with you... and with His Majesty."
An hour later, my private train steamed northward, beginning the long journey across the vastness of Siberia toward the capital. In my private car, I spread maps across a table, studying the territories that had consumed my attention these past years. The Trans-Siberian Railway, still incomplete. The vulnerable Chinese frontier. The ice-free harbor of Port Arthur. The Korean peninsula, jutting into waters that would soon become contested by two expanding empires.
My aide entered with a fresh pot of tea, interrupting my thoughts.
"Your Highness, the telegraph operator has received acknowledgment from St. Petersburg. Your impending arrival has been communicated to the palace."
"Thank you." I gestured to the maps. "Have these secured. I'll need them when we arrive."
As the aide carefully rolled the maps, I turned to the window, watching the Siberian landscape roll past. These territories, so often ignored by the ministers in St. Petersburg, represented Russia's future—a future I was now racing toward St. Petersburg to claim.
Would Father understand, in these final moments, what I had set in motion? Would he see that I had not defied his vision for Russia, but expanded it beyond the European fixation that had dominated his reign? Perhaps not. But soon, his approval would no longer be necessary.
In Tokyo, I imagined Ito was making similar calculations, planning his own empire's expansion with the same methodical precision. Two nations, two destinies, converging on territories neither could afford to surrender.
The collision, when it came, would reshape the balance of power across all of Asia. And I would be ready—Tsar Nicholas II, Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias, architect of the empire's eastern destiny.
The train surged forward through the gathering darkness, carrying me toward inheritance, responsibility, and the throne that would give me power to transform these plans from diplomatic maneuvers into imperial policy. Behind me lay Port Arthur, vulnerable and coveted. Before me, St. Petersburg and a deathbed farewell. And somewhere, in the distance, the drums of a war that would test the very foundations of the empire I was about to inherit.