To Napoleon IV, Emperor of France-Outre-Mer, Spain, and Italy:
You have recognized the realm of the Russians. This is of great import to my self and my people. As such, I offer my firstborn daughter Velikaya Knyadzna Olga Nikolaevna to be wife to a relative of yours. When the Fall returns, I shall see it fit that she is in good hands, and does not turn into a source of blood for Patriarch Tikhon Vasily Bellavin, righteous as Malik Nous may be. She is thirty years old, and far too old to be a maiden. I expect a prompt and suitable reply, while ensuring a measure of safety from Russian arms, lest common blood be spilt.
Czar Nicolae Alexandrovich Romanov II, Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias
To Kaiser Friedrich Wilhelm Viktor Albrecht von Preußen:
As I have noted to your soon-to-be relative Napoleon IV, Emperor of France-Outre-Mer, Spain, and Italy, I have several daughters in need of husbands. To you, I offer my second daughter's hand, Tatiana Nikolaevna Romanova, to be wed to your son Oscar Charles Gutav Adolf Hohenzollern. As with my first daughter, I do not wish to see Tatiana come to any harm when the Fall returns. I offer your people a measure of protection from the sword strokes of Russia, due to our continuing and upcoming relations.
Czar Nicolae Alexandrovich Romanov II, Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias
To Patriarch Constantinos I:
I have need of marrying my daughters, and who better to wed than a fellow Slav. Your nation has domain over some Slavic people, and as such I consider your empire a sibling. As such, the two should have common blood, which I offer to you, as a marriage between my daughter Maria Nikolaevna Romanova and your emperor Alexios I Komnenus. This does not entail any future treat between our nations, other than an assurance of no unprovoked aggression against your people. The icy binds of Russia are being withdrawn as the Fall fades into history, and when Chernobog brings forth another Fall, I do not wish my daughters to find themselves at the mercy of Malik Nous, as righteous as their mission-our mission- is.
Czar Nicolae Alexandrovich Romanov II, Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias
***
Izvestia Russkie Ljudi
Notable advances have been made by the Nova Roman forces in the central region of the Empire, although an Imperial force dove deep into the northern region of Rurik control. This is how the current map stands:
Although Nova Roma is larger than ever before, the recent acquisition of Yamalia by Imperial Russia has increased its manpower and resource pool like never before. The forecast for the rightful rulers of Russia is becoming worse every day, and even at home in Astrakhan trouble is brewing as the Germanized Ruriks stubbornly ignore ancient traditions in favor of more Western European ideals. Such trouble should die down soon enough, as it is expected that Mikhail II Rurik will wed the thoroughly Russian Princess Anastasia Romanov sometime this year.
As always, I personally implore you, the reader, to not bring to light the existence of this paper. If the Okhrana were to find us...think of your children. What would happen if you were found with this paper? Obviously, you are a true man to even dare read this. So you must understand the risks, and the rewards, of this publication's continuing existence. I hope you found this news enlightening, and shall find the next installments' just as much so.
***
From the diary of Grigori Rasputin:
It is said that wisdom comes with age. I have certainly gained five years, but as for the knowledge I know not. There is more money coming into the coffers of Nova Roma, due to the exploits of Mikhail and his brothers and cousins. This, while fantastic, is a headache of its own. We-I- must weed out Malik Nous from the people of these lands, while raising their towns and farms to a level suitable of the name Roman.
Mikhail is wedding Anastasia soon. No, nothing official has happened yet, but it is only a matter of time. I saw their mutual feelings the first time I introduced them to each other, and knew it was only a matter of time until they consummated their love. What a thing that is, love. It is most definitely the driving force of the world. God knows it is what drove me to the measures I took after the Fall.
The future combining of the houses Rurik and Romanov shall surely do wonders for the legitimacy of either house, but it raises questions as to what role Alexei shall have if- no, I must say when- the Ruriks take their rightful thrones. Perhaps he shall become the monk he always saw himself as. Alas, the future is known only to Him, and as such I must only try to make His plan a reality with as little pain as possible. If only this task were simple.
***
Winter, 1900- Samarkand
Lenin withdrew a small package from the inner pocket of his rather heavy coat, which was a poor guise for the warm night. Warm by Russian standards, that is. He stepped into the shadowed entryway of a bank, and let a patrol walk by. Best not to let a grunt in on the situation. Waiting a few seconds for the men to pass, Vlad then quickened his pace, not daring to be late. He managed to compose himself as he reached the nondescript wooden door he was looking for.
"The night is young, my friend." A guttural utterance was put forth from a small hole revealed from the removal of a plug in the door.
"So is the name of the Peacock." Such a pointless measure; any enemy who knew of the place would not take such a measure in the first place. Such thoughts were roughly disturbed as the door was thrown open and a half dozen hands pulled Vlad inside, covering his head with a sack.
"What is the meaning of this? I am here on the business of--" Lenin's rage-filled rant was cut short by the reassuring voice of the Patriarch.
"Do not worry, boy. It is simple, the reason for this: you are not meant to know the location of the most sacred Halls of Chernobog. Have no fear; it is not far, and your quite extensive pride will not be too injured, I hope.
The bastard can give himself to his lord sooner than later, thought Vlad- now obviously Lenin to the men around him- as he was walked back out the door. An hour later, they were finally in a small room with dim lighting, making his surroundings indistinguishable.
Remember your purpose...
"His Imperial Majesty has need of several hundred rituals for good luck in his northern exploits, Tikhon." If the luck of ten thousand volunteers hoping to escape the rituals could be called such.
"Of course. He knows the price?" How could he not.
"Yes, he knows. He has promised to choose a daughter for you."
"Very good. The preparations shall be made." How such a cretin could be the earthly messenger of a god was beyond Lenin, but he did his job. Always.
***
Mikhail was not entirely certain what was happening. Everyone seemed to think he would be proposing to Anastasia sometime soon. Although this was true, he wondered how anyone could have known. She certainly didn't pay attention to him for several years, and even now rarely graced his presence in public. And he definitely spend much of his time avoiding her, in youthful years past. Despite this, the news was writing already guessing where the wedding would be, and what dress the Empress-to-be would wear. It certainly didn't make asking her any easier.
Walking up the rather ornate wooden stairs- the manor they lived in had been decorated, in his opinion in a rather ostentatious manner- he could only repeat what he was going to say over and over in his head. So you can imagine his surprise when his mission very literally ran into him. He just reaching the upper hall when Anastasia tumbled into him, having been running with her shoes off and her skirts in hand. As he would come to learn, she had been running to put on makeup for the man she loved ever so secretly.
"Anastasia! This is...unusual." His ring had fallen out of its position in his hand, and was laying in stark contrast to the maroon carpet. They both were looking at it, and Mikhail was so distracted that he didn't even bother to grab the rather tantalizing glimpse of her legs which was currently being offered. Lifting her up with him, Mikhail immediately dropped to a knee, reaching for the ring. He grabbed her hand, and began.
"Anastasia, I have known you for years, and in that time I have come to know you, and love you. I-" She, as always, would not let him finish speaking his mind.
"Oh, just put the ring on you twit!" At that, the two were engaged; the story would be remembered for generations.