Chapter 209: Composing the Concert
Saint Petersburg
Stale air hung in the briefing room of the State Duma where the politicians had gathered with their Emperor in attendance. Vladimir had insisted on this. A delegation from each recognised party on the foreign committee, Taube representing the intelligence apparatus, and a staff to record the exchange.
That was it. Less than thirty men, a map of Europe, tables of statistics, and the definitive matter before them.
In his chair, Yuspov wished Vladimir had just decided to proceed by fiat in this matter as was his right, the discussions were getting close to gnawing at his sanity.
“I simply do not” declared deputy Brasol,
“understand what some decrepit Germanic mongrel power can offer to overcome its blood guilt!” The Ultranationalist kept returning to that point, the matter of the Weltkrieg, and Austrian complicity. This time at last, Taube took it as a genuine question and drew the attention of the assembled to the tables of organisation pinned to a display board.
“The armed forces available to the Austrian Emperor include…” he took a pointer and began to indicate the relevant lines. A technical man, Taube found comfort in figures.
“One hundred and fifteen divisions of the common army, including specialised mountain troops. Three thousand five hundred land based combat aircraft, more than the Japanese, more than half of those being twin engined bombers. And” the pointer crossed down to the section of the great map showing the Adriatic coast
“seventy destroyers, twelve cruisers, and six battleships of the Kaiserliche und königliche Kriegsmarine.”
Taube looked back to his Czar who indicated for him to continue.
“The staff have advised that with the addition of the Austrian forces, we should have the naval assets required to at least contest the Adriatic and Eastern Mediterranean and ward off naval landings against our wider Empire. Geographically, the alliance will likewise give us access to the soft underbelly of Bavaria and allow operations against Italy. The former, has the potential to greatly shorten the German campaign, the latter is likely to deny our enemies a chance to concentrate their entire force against the French front.”
“That is assuming we can trust them," Brasol retorted,
"the Austrians are a perfidious people. I will never underestimate the scourge of Totalitarian Socialism, infested and puppeteered as it is by the hidden hand of the Jew, but we cannot be blind to the crimes of the Austrians.”
“There is a Jew sitting right here Brasol.” Rutenberg, the bespectacled, rather severe looking SR had been winning Vladimir over of late. He had a wit about him, and had been a major influence in staking out the party’s new political platform, one which pushed the interests of the peasantry, but no longer tried to roll back the clock on the Imperial restoration.
“And we are not blind to your agenda! But the core of my point remains. This alliance would be an exoneration of Vienna when only destruction would right the wrong. They should be made to know our new strength.”
Vladimir managed to avoid shaking his head, but only just. Brasol had been loyal to his father, even during some of the hardest months and years. But the man was the embodiment of the worst revanchist impulses in the soul of the Empire. Vladimir chose to risk a direct comment.
“We understand your passion Deputy, however we find the military and political evaluations we have received quite convincing. The destruction of Vienna would leave us with neither the military not moral standing to carry on the fight against Syndicalism to the extent required. The question here is between alliance and neutrality, war is not for discussion.”
Brasol bowed his head but ploughed on.
“I understand your Majesty, but I must stress that this is a matter not just of counting rifles, but of justice and ensuring the Russian people see it to be done. The War was Austria’s doing, they are the enemy of all Slavs.”
Vladimir kept his cool, the other delegates were glaring at Brasol now, as if trying to telepathically assault him into silence.
“We appreciate the directness of your counsel deputy, but we recall that many times before the Austrians were our enemies, they were our allies. We can never forget the losses our people suffered in the Weltkrieg, but our concern must turn to how to minimise the losses of the next war, rather than seeking vengeance for the last one.”
Brasol pressed his hands down on the table
“If your Majesty were Russian then you would understand more the great pain of which I speak. The suffering of so many millions. You would understand perhaps better the scale of what the doves ask here.”
The silence in the room hung. Brasol seemed to understand that something was amiss as he parsed his previous statements for the culprit. His eyes lifted as his brain hit on a potential culprit.
“By which I mean to say that by virtue of your foreign birth and relatively recent return to the homeland your Majesty may not have had the same opportunity to survey the great damage done to Russia by the Germans and their revolutionary agents.”
Silence.
Brasol looked briefly to his right to Wrangel for support but the Baron’s eyes were locked on the desk in deference. And so Brasol did the only thing he knew how to do, he fought.
“And your Majesty’s youth means you did not see the great pain inflicted by the war, the grieving mothers, the long lines of the maimed and wounded, all suffering on account of Vienna’s treachery, bullying, and barbaric ambition. The destruction of Vienna can be the only course. Were your father here…”
“Our father” Vladimir practically whispered with a chill that filled the room.
“Is not here.”
The Faith and Nation delegates crossed themselves, prompting the others to frantically do the same. Vladimir turned the other end of the crescent table entirely.
“Pyotr Moiseyevich, you spoke well in the Duma on this matter, but now is a moment of decision. On behalf of your Party, and of the Russians who you represent; da or nyet to this alliance.”
Rutenberg didn’t turn to check with his colleague.
“In defence of civilisation, I say Da.”
Vladimir nodded and turned to the two Kadets.
“Deputies Sablin and Chernov, what say you on this matter?”
Sablin was first to answer, the clean-shaven Saint Petersburg progressive
“I meant what I said on the floor Majesty. This is not a nationalist struggle, it is a battle for the soul of the world. We say Da.”
The Octoberists had sent Ryabushinsky, the somewhat fat faced industrialist who was known to be solid on economics and a tad weak on speeches. Vladimir decided not to labour the question “Deputy Ryabushinsky?” The man just nodded
“Da, Majesty.”
The Conservative delegation along from Ryabushinsky was four strong, rather than the usual two, headed by Yuspov and Dogsonov.
“President Yuspov, Deputy Dogsonov, we believe we know where your delegates stand on this matter but given the gravity of the situation we must ask you to commit it to record.”
Dogsonov, the broad chested frontman of the foreign committee took the opening
“Your Majesty, if it be your will, then Let the crowned heads of Eurasia unite once more. Let the League of Three Emperors form again. Let the Tsar and the Emperor march through Paris as one. We say Da.”
Vladimir gave a small nod back. He knew there might be a bit more fraying in the party than Dogsonov was putting on, but for the public and the papers, that would be definitive enough.
The churchmen had been quiet, as was their way in these moments. They nodded their assent, and it was recorded.
Which left Vladimir staring at the furthest right seats.
“Deputy Brasol, Senator Wrangel?”
Brasol seized the opening
“Majesty as others in the Duma have said, Austria is a decrepit Empire of contradictions, we owe her nothing, and the Southern Slavs do not deserve abandonment. We should not spill blood for the benefit of Germans or Hungarians. They are as much our foes as the Communards. Do not become a tool for those who wish only destruction on our Motherland.”
Vladimir kept his face passive.
“Senator Wrangel?”
The Black Baron looked at his Czar in turn. The signs of age had started to accumulate on the old Marshal, but he was still a tower of a man, half a head clear of most others around the table.
“Our delegation is split on this matter Majesty, we can record no vote.”
Brasol looked as if he had been physically accosted, he slammed a fist on the table and rounded on his colleague,
“you told Purishkevich….”
“Enough” declared Vladimir softly, but firmly. The room quietened, Brasol gripped the table, face glowing softly with anger. Rutenberg grinned again.
“The votes are recorded, no recognised party of our Duma has advanced an objection on this matter. On that advice, our decision has been made.
we shall offer our hand to Vienna.”
From “The Exiled Vanguard - Issue 18, 1941” by D. Nozadze
Much has been made in recent days over the announcement of the new pact binding the Empires of Russia, Austria, and Japan together into a cursed construct to the East of the Revolution’s frontier.
While I strongly condemn the fear mongering that has followed, I, and the other comrades in exile from the East, do recognise this as a moment of great significance.
It is the moment where Aristocrats, capitalists, churchmen of numerous states at last dropped any pretension of loyalty to Nation or their supposed ideals and admitted at last a joint allegiance in the war between classes.
To some, this alliance came as a surprise. They looked upon it and saw only unresolved conflicts between nations, and between social groups.
Had not the Austrians inflicted such suffering on the Serbs and, by extension, the Russians, that an allegiance between the two would be impossible?
Was it not the liberal Capitalists that first attempted to overturn aristocracy and the dominance of the Church in Russia?
Did not Japanese racial theory preclude alliance with its old enemy Russia?
How could agrarian ‘revolutionaries’ make common cause with Aristocrats?
Personally, I believe that all who fail to grasp the inevitability of what has happened should be regarded as suspect, owing to a failure to understand and comprehend the most basic of the theories that have underpinned the global revolution.
Each of the groups cited are conflicted, true. During the feudal stage of history, conflict between aristocratic groups is to be expected, often taking the form of war between nations, wherein rulers exploit the blood and bodies of their population to compete for the dominance of the largest amount of land and labour capital.
With the emergence of the capitalist world order, conflict between nations intensified, as fighting was both motivated and enabled by the accumulation of capital, be it for the aristocrats by conquest, or the capitalists by virtue of their control of the developing war economies. To this conflict was added the battle between the middle class and their aristocratic rulers. These conflicts in many places favoured the Capitalists, while in others the revolution is incomplete even now.
But now, as the world prepares to transition first into Vanguard Totalism, and then into the new utopia of permanent rule by labour, the old conflicts between these groups are no longer relevant.
The Aristocracy, the Church, the Capitalists, all of these groups have enjoyed class consciousness long before the workers were first enlightened. They at last see the growing power of the Internationale and the Worker-States as a threat, a harbinger of a new stage of civilisation, and they know that a victory for the worker is tantamount to a death sentence for their old order.
There will be no church in the new post-revolutionary world, there will be no nobles, no owning class. And having failed to stop the workers with lies, having failed to stop them with uncoordinated national actions, having seen what happened to the once unbreakable German Empire...they know their days are numbered.
And so at last the oppressive classes have revealed themselves publicly, flown their colours and declared allegiance. From Iceland to Hawaii, from Archangel to Hobart, a united reactionary front has formed.
In many ways, this new pact is the bastion of the old Feudal order, predating even the society that the Entente struggles to hold onto. Behind its wall of bayonets and trenches, perhaps a quarter of humanity is imprisoned, indoctrinated, and lashed into action.
A number of my comrades have, in recent publications, called this matter a grave threat to all that we have accomplished, a last desperate, but dangerous gasp from our opponents as they suffer economic and political decay.
I argue instead that we should call it a victory, a vindication of what we teach, of what we know about the fundamental pressures of history and the destiny of the human race.
We know, as do our opponents, that this struggle is no longer about nations, no longer about old grudges and petty ambitions.
This is Revolution versus Reaction.
This is Class vs Class.
And in a conflict framed in class terms, the victory of the workers is not just likely.
It is an inevitability.
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