As the clock hits eight, Alexander gets himself ready to leave. He has a promise that he will return to the Winter Palace before nine o’clock in the evening and the flight time from this military base to St. Petersburg would take thirty minutes.

Escorted by the Humvees, Alexander was daydreaming inside the Rolls Royce Phantom, imagining a time when he will get to see the first world’s space launch on Ruthenian soil.

It’ll be a historic moment, especially in this era where going to space is nothing more than a fantasy. And once they do that, he’s certain that the other nations would freak out, and if that happens, all hell will break loose diplomatically.

Alexander doesn’t care really about what kind of reception he would get from foreign countries by publicly showing to the masses what the IDS has been creating so far. Yes, they have built a big jet aircraft that would make their jaws drop but what can they really do? So what if they’ve created the first jet engine aircraft, nuclear submarine, nuclear aircraft carrier, or satellite? What are they going to do about it? Protest? Well, it’s just too bad that he didn’t reincarnate in their countries where they enjoy the luxury of having a man from the future with full access to advanced technology.

He’s aware of the danger he is treading upon and he doesn’t even care. Because if he is too afraid of showing the world what he had built, then what’s the purpose of building it in the first place?

It’s been five years since he got whisked into this world and in those five years, Alexander did everything in his power to make Ruthenia stable and strong enough to let him do whatever he wants. It’s one of the aspects of what made a country. A country must have the means necessary to protect its sovereignty and has the power to connect to other countries by means of diplomacy. Diplomacy can only occur if both countries are on an equal footing. In the past, Ruthenia has been getting sidelined by other great powers because of its weak economy and military, but now things are changing.

Alexander is reaching an era where the words and the will of the Ruthenian Empire have a weight to them and a power to back it up. It’s been five years yet is more than enough to put up a decent strength. No longer will Ruthenia be looked down upon. There’s no stopping it from rising up to glory, everything is set to stone.

“Your Majesty…are you okay?” Wegener, who is sitting next to him, asked as he saw a grin flashing across his face.

“I’m okay. I’m just happy that you exceeded my expectations,” Alexander said.

“I should be the one telling you that,” Wegener replied. “You were the one creating the instructions, I’m just simply following it. It’s not me who is a genius when it comes to aerospace engineering but you, Your Majesty.”

“You flatter me too much,” Alexander chuckled as he looked outside the window again. If only he knew that he’s not from this world but from another world where technology is decades ahead. He is simply recreating what the engineers and scientists researched and studied. It was not that impressive.

Or if you think about it, it’s actually impressive at all. Let’s say an average high school person was put in the same circumstances as his, would he be able to do what he did in this country? He doesn’t think so. Alexander thought to himself.-.

“When are you going to return back to Moskva?”

“Maybe after the flight test of the Gamayun? I must say, the name suits her well. Gamayun is the wingless prophetic bird of Ruthenian folklore who flew only using her tail to spread divine messages and prophecies, right? If you think about it, the aircraft does have the capability of spying on the enemy from the heavens. Compared to other planes, she doesn’t follow conventional designs either. A wingless plane with a large tail. “

“That’s right,” Alexander confirmed. “I plan to name all the future aircraft based on animals, figures and mythologies…wait, speaking of mythologies, I do have something important to attend to tomorrow.”

“Where that might be, sir?” Wegener asked.

“I just remembered, there will be a ship commissioning tomorrow at Kronstadt.”

“Ship commissioning? Ah, what type of warship is it?”

“Well as far as I remember, it’ll be an aircraft carrier, a battleship, a battlecruiser, a destroyer, and a submarine,” Alexander answered and continued. “Their keels were laid four years ago; construction took four years and they are ready to put into service with fresh teams of naval personnel.”

“I see, so each military department has news toys, am I right?”“Yes, even the Coast Guards will have one. Terrorism has been inactive since the Deutschland incident, and I hope to keep it that way.”

“Your Majesty,” Rolan interrupted, the car stopped. “We have arrived.”

“Thank you for informing me, Rolan,” Alexander said, adjusting his cufflinks before opening the door and exiting the car.

The crews of the Vickers Viscount stood by the hatch in a professional manner. Before stepping inside the plane, Alexander turned back and faced Zhukov.

“General Zhukov, I’ve had a good time visiting here. Thank you.” Alexander extended his right hand toward Zhukov and gave him a handshake.

Zhukov returned his handshake with a small smile on his lips. “It’s an honor, Your Majesty.”

“I’ll take my leave here,” Alexander said turning back around and walking inside the plane. He sat on his exclusive leather seat and shut his eyes. After several moments, he heard a soft rumble to his side, causing him to open his eyes to take a look. He saw the propeller blades powered by Rolls Royce Dart turboprop engine spin at high speed. If this was 747, he wouldn’t be disturbed.

Alexander sighed as he leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes once again.

***

Forty-five minutes later, Alexander arrived back at the Winter Palace.

“Papa!” Anya squealed as soon as she spotted her father’s entrance. The little girl rushed towards Alexander, giving him a huge hug which caused Alexander to chuckle in response.

Alexander knelt down to lift up his little princess, carrying her into his arms. “Why are you still awake, hmm?” He snuggled her close, kissing her cheek repeatedly, tickling her with his beard. “Didn’t I tell you to sleep early?”

“Papa…stop…it tickles!” Anya giggled. She wrapped her tiny arms around Alexander’s neck while continuing to laugh.

“Well, she said he’ll wait for you,” Sophie walked forward and placed a kiss on Alex’s cheek. “Welcome home, darling.”

Alex smiled warmly at Sophie, “It’s good to be home,”

It was not only his wife who waited for his arrival but his three sisters as well.

“Welcome home, dear brother!” The three intoned together.

Glancing at them, he noticed Anastasia who’s grown a lot in the last three years. She’s not the childish princess she was once before. Thanks to her receiving formal education, she now acts more mature and lovely, befitting of her royal disposition.

As for Tiffania and Christina, meh, still the same. Christina loves to help people and his brother by hosting charity auctions, programs, and seminars across Ruthenia while Tiffania is focusing on her studies.

“We prepared you a feast,” Christina said.

“Really? Perfect timing, I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

Christine smiled. “Then let’s go brother while the food is warm…”

“Can I go too?” Anya asked suddenly.Alexander laughed and ruffled her hair. “As long as you promise me that you’ll sleep after eating, okay?”

“Okay!”

And thus, the Romanoff Family proceeded to the dining hall.

***

Elsewhere in Ruthenia, the HQ of Ruthenian Social Democratic Labor Party.

“And so it relies on us comrades. We must beware of the Capitalist King and his cronies in our motherland. For they will steal what we earn..to..further their agenda.”

Ioseb Besarionis dze Jughashvili aka Joseph could not even believe his own words anymore.

The crowd he used to address in the Ruthenian Social Democratic Labour Party HQ dwindled greatly after the new Tsar unexpectedly pushed socialistic reforms.

Less and less angry and unhappy people turned up as their lives did a one-eighty, people start coming in with furs or strange puffy waxed stuffed jackets before they vanished.

Thanks to Alexander, people have significantly less to be angry about. In fact, they all have the looks of people expecting a brighter future.

Even the police raid they depended on for their oppression only comes in as a solitary patrol man who needs to use the bathroom.

Freedom of speech is a thing now, proven by local newspapers making a satire of their Tsar without the police showing up. Still, many believe the other shoe might drop.

The benches are empty apart from some hardline members and some drunk people who wandered in and fell asleep.

As Ioseb lowered his fist, fervor long extinguished.

Two people opened the door behind him and walked towards the exit with their coats on their backs.

“Do lock up when you are finished comrade Ioseb, okay? Goodnight.”, Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov said as he followed Lev Davidovich Bronstein out the door.

Ioseb sighed as he knew his comrades in Marxism were right. They were already outdated as an ideology. The new Tsar is very good at keeping his promise.

“. . .Goodnight comrades…that is all for tonight.”action

The hardliners stood up from their seats and woke up anyone sleeping.

The bunch of people streamed out until it was only Ioseb left and alone. He went and shut the main entrance door before picking up his coat and turning off all the lights and locking the place up for the night.

His red scarf fluttered as a cold summer wind blew by as thunder could be heard, it will be raining tonight.

***

Austrea Empire, a military barracks.

The soldiers were fast asleep. A rare moment after the cooldown from the terrorist crackdown years some time ago.

A man sleeps peacefully dreaming of his paintings and sketches he made during free time coming to life and playing with the unit’s mascot Deutsch Shepherd dog.

He also starts dreaming of dumplings jumping around and the cartoons on the canteen TV start coming out to steal his spoon.

There were many more dreams later for a Schütze named Adolf.

The night sky above the roof glimmered with stars.