The snow continued to fall, and the atmosphere was far from harmonious.
Marshal Konev, along with a few other military marshals behind him, was doing his best to maintain order. The middle and lower-ranking officers were highly agitated and kept trying to approach, but Marshal Konev had significant authority within the military. He was known for his fairness and never took advantage of his position for personal gain, so the more reasonable officers didn't dare to lay hands on him.
As a result, with the marshals acting as a barrier, Marshal Aleksei Krim also refrained from taking any rash actions. Both sides remained in a tense, stand-off situation, teetering on the edge of conflict but without a full-blown fight.
The vast snow fell from the sky, its pure white flakes filling the air, covering the soldiers' armor, the generals' uniforms, and the Bokaha Palace. Despite being a land of snow and ice, the country now seemed like a boiling cauldron, ready to explode into a massive mutiny at any moment.
In front of the palace gates, lit by magical lamps and torches, stood Belia and Sherepin, watching the unfolding situation coldly. The Ugol archers weren't part of the Kislev army, and as envoys of the Knight King, no one dared to interfere with them as they stood by.
"Things have gotten this bad. I wonder if we'll finally get a chance to meet Her Majesty Katarin this time," Deputy General Sherepin commented, torn between pity and excitement at the scene before him. He was 25 years old and had never seen the Empress.
"If I'm not mistaken, you will," Belia nodded calmly. The Ugol general, who was not yet forty, squinted his eyes as he carefully observed the scene, deep in thought. "But not now."
"Not now?" The two officers stood in the heavy snow, watching as their attendants brought them two military flasks. The dwarf-made flasks were particularly exquisite, filled with the finest vodka. Belia and Sherepin each took a hearty swig, and the Ugol general nodded slightly. "Yes, based on my understanding, Her Majesty Katarin will not appear right away. But she also won't let things spiral out of control. If any major nobles or boyars from the Duma step in to solve the problem, then things will really get complicated."
"So today, someone else will play the villain, while Her Majesty Katarin will naturally be the hero," Belia said meaningfully, holding his military flask. "Watch closely, Sherepin. In just a few minutes, the palace gates will open, but the person who steps out won't be the Empress. It will be Yezhov, the head of the People's Internal Affairs Committee, the 'Cheka.'"
"I know Yezhov well; we used to serve under General Felix," Belia said with a nostalgic smile. "A ruthless dwarf. Just watch, Sherepin. If you even think about stepping forward, I'll shoot you dead myself!"
"Yes, sir!" The young officer, clearly intimidated, nodded quickly.
On the other side, the situation was slowly slipping out of control. The marshals, after all, couldn't issue military pay. They could only rely on their personal authority to keep the officers in check temporarily, but no amount of authority could produce money from thin air.
What the crowd didn't know was that inside the palace, hundreds of Krim guards and secret police had already gathered behind the palace gates.
The People's Internal Affairs Committee, abbreviated as the "Cheka," had been granted the highest legal authority by Empress Katarin. Whatever they declared was immune to legal scrutiny or restraint, and their chosen punishments were always interpreted in the harshest possible light.
"The Cheka never makes mistakes."
– General Felix-Edmundovich, Winged Hussar and first leader of the Cheka.
This organization had been originally established by the former Tsar Boris Bokaha to combat the threat of Chaos corruption and its cults. But after his death at the Linsk River, the Cheka had been repurposed by Katarin to ensure the personal safety of the royal family and maintain the stability of her rule.
Now, the current head of the Cheka, Yezhov, stood behind the palace gates. At just over 1.5 meters tall, he wore a specially made bearskin hat that added height to his diminutive stature. However, this only made his proportions appear more comical.
Yezhov frowned as he addressed his subordinate. "Those rabble still refuse to leave?"
"They're insisting on seeing Her Majesty Katarin," the subordinate replied in despair. "What do we do now?"
"What do we do?" Yezhov's hawk-like gaze bored into his subordinate. "Why are you asking me? Figure it out yourself!"
"But… Marshal Konev…"
"Marshal? Who cares? The Duma nobles may be arrogant, but this kingdom ultimately belongs to Her Majesty Katarin!" Yezhov glanced outside and his expression became increasingly sinister. "Enough. Her Majesty is meditating in the Ice Palace, and there's no time to seek her permission. Everyone!"
"Yes, sir!" Hundreds of Krim guards and secret police shouted in unison.
"Charge out there and beat every last one of those mutinous soldiers! No exceptions!"
"Yes, sir!"
Boom! The palace gates slowly opened. The mutinous soldiers, expecting to see the Empress, looked toward the gates with excitement in their eyes. But instead of Her Majesty Katarin, they were met by a horde of Krim guards and black-uniformed Cheka officers wielding batons.
"Hit them! Kill these traitors!"
"Take action! Leave none standing!"
"Arrest them all!"
The guards and Cheka officers raised their batons and weapons and viciously attacked the group of officers. The first to fall was Captain Alyosha, a Cossack soldier, who was struck in the head by a baton, splitting his scalp open. Before he could react, another baton hit his back, and within moments, seven or eight more strikes left him bloodied and beaten, his blood staining the snowy ground.
More guards and Cheka officers with batons and whips joined in, creating a scene of utter horror. One by one, the officers fell into pools of blood. Many were knocked unconscious, and some were beaten to death, their faces frozen in disbelief.
Perhaps they had never imagined that they would die, not on the northern frontlines against barbarians and Chaos, but under the blows of their own people.
"What's happening? Stop! Stop beating them! Who gave you permission to hit people?" Marshal Konev shouted in fury. Seeing the gruesome scene before him, his hand instinctively reached for the curved sword at his waist. "Stop this immediately! They're good men, they're just upset about not getting paid!"
He found nothing, and it dawned on him that weapons were forbidden inside the palace. He and the other marshals rushed forward, but the Krim guards quickly surrounded them, blocking their path with long spears.
Without weapons, even if Konev and the other legendary marshals were formidable warriors, they stood little chance against the fully armed and organized Krim guards.
As a result, dozens of officers fell one after another. Even those who didn't resist were beaten to within an inch of their lives, and those who dared to fight back were beaten to death on the spot.
The batons were slick with blood and bits of flesh, but the guards showed no signs of stopping.
"Yezhov! What do you think you're doing?" Marshal Konev roared at Yezhov. "Order your men to stop immediately!"
Yezhov sneered cruelly and spread his hands as if to say, "None of your business."
In the distance, Belia watched the bloodshed without a flicker of emotion. His eyes were fixed on the short-statured Yezhov, and the Ugol general slowly spoke. "Do you understand now, Sherepin? Katarin chose Yezhov for his ruthlessness and audacity."
"But… but General, how could this bastard dare act like this?" Sherepin, influenced by the chivalric values of Bretonnia and the atmosphere of Ryan's domain, was furious. If not for Belia's earlier warning, he might have rushed forward already. "This is an abuse of power!"
"Hmph, didn't you hear what I just said?" Belia replied coldly, holding the young man back. "Let me be blunt—would Yezhov dare act like this without Katarin's permission?"
"General?" Sherepin realized something. "This…"
Despite wearing three layers of clothing, chainmail, and a cloak, and having just drunk fine vodka, Sherepin suddenly felt very cold, a chill deep in his bones. He couldn't help but shrink his neck and shiver.
Belia wasn't surprised. After all, everyone needs to grow up.
Besides, deep down, the Ugol general understood. If Ryan ever needed him to, Belia was confident he could be even more ruthless than Yezhov.
But Ryan didn't need that. He needed someone to help him recruit soldiers, forge connections, and secure skilled laborers. Belia understood Ryan's style—what to do and what not to do. He could follow Ryan's instructions and preferences to the letter.
As long as Ryan needed it.
And after personally witnessing Ryan's martial prowess, strategic brilliance, leadership, and unrivaled influence, Belia found Kislev's ambitions laughably small.
"I told you, Yezhov and his Cheka are the villains!" Belia's voice dragged out. "And our wise, supreme, world-centered, immensely powerful, Empress of Ice, Queen Katarin, will only ever play the role of the hero!"
"Watch closely, Sherepin. The hero is about to arrive!" Belia fixed his gaze on the palace gates. "See? You wanted to meet Her Majesty, right? Well, here she comes!"
"Stop!" As expected, the palace gates opened wide, and flanked by several ice witches and numerous Ursine Guards, a woman slowly descended the steps. She was adorned in an ice crystal velvet gown embroidered with sunflower patterns, draped in a white bearskin cloak, and wore a crown encrusted with over 4,800 diamonds, weighing a total of 2,858 carats, topped with the world's most beautiful blue spinel gemstone. She was also equipped with the full set of the Tsaritsa Miska Queen's six ice-imbued royal artifacts.
This was Empress Katarin of Kislev. Surrounded by an intense aura of frost and snow, her very presence was enough to chill the air. Her words carried the sharpness of the northern permafrost, and though she was undeniably beautiful, her finely arched brows and slender eyes lent her a dignified, even intimidating, air. Her delicate nose and small lips gave her features a refined balance, though she was more noble and regal than breathtakingly stunning.
Her expression remained cold throughout, a clear sign that she was not someone to be approached lightly.
"She's not even as beautiful as Lady Sulia," Sherepin muttered under his breath, feeling somewhat disappointed after finally laying eyes on the Empress.
Belia glanced at him, inwardly smiling. What a perfect comment, he thought. This kid has potential!
"Alright, you've seen enough. Time to go!" Belia gestured for his men to turn around. He swiftly mounted his horse. "It's not time for an audience yet."
"Wait! General, we haven't seen everything!" Sherepin hurriedly mounted his own horse, trailing after Belia. "Why are we leaving so soon?"
"What else is there to see?" Belia replied casually. "I could recite the rest in my sleep. It's the same old script."
"What do you mean?" The young officer still didn't get it.
"Next up, Katarin will graciously order the Cheka and the Krim Guards to stop. She'll then scold everyone, with Yezhov naturally bowing his head in remorse, while the Duma nobles will take the blame for the mutiny due to their incompetence. This way, Her Majesty will secure the moral high ground. Then, she'll demand that the generals and boyars cough up some of their war spoils to serve as military pay. At that point, the Duma won't be able to put up much of a fight. They'll reluctantly part with a bit of their wealth."
Belia nodded as he continued, "After that, Her Majesty will open her personal treasury and declare that funds will be directly allocated to the military camps. As for the mutineers, they'll be rounded up—those deserving execution will be executed, those deserving exile will be exiled, and those who need to be fined will be fined."
"Meanwhile, those who didn't participate in the mutiny will receive at least three or four months of back pay. In the end, the mutiny will be resolved, and the soldiers will praise Her Majesty's wisdom and virtue."
"Wait a minute! So Her Majesty planned to use her personal funds to pay the army from the beginning?" Sherepin exclaimed. "Then why didn't she just—"
"Why is she the ruler and you a soldier?" Belia interrupted. "Still don't get it?"
"… General, where are we headed now?" Sherepin asked after a moment of silence.
"We're going to visit a few of the relief centers in the city," Belia replied with a nod. "The military's morale may have been stabilized for now."
"But what about the people's morale?"
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