June 8, 1912
A week had passed since the much anticipated coronation, and the now three Grand Duchesses and new Empress of Russia took on their duties. Life in the palace continued as usual. Nothing had changed for the palace staff, as they were bound to their rigid rules and procedures. Nothing had changed for the millions of citizens of the Russian Empire yet. Business inside and outside the palace remained the same, but the citizens of the Russian Empire felt something new for the first time in years: hope. The young Empress was aware of the anticipation surrounding her newly christened reign, so she wasted no time in starting her duties. Eventually, she would have to select a new board of advisors and decide the role of Rasputin.
Olga stepped into the study room that her late father often resided in. She almost expected to see him reading various papers, smiling up at his cherished, eldest daughter. The lamps were turned off, and the bookshelves and typewriter showed no signs of use. The room seemed dead. She looked around, seeing various miniature portraits of her deceased ancestors that silently watched her. It was almost as if she were being watched by their spirits. The thought made her shudder. Finally, she settled her gaze on the broad desk in the center of the room. She took her seat in the chair and turned on the lamp. The room became filled with light. Various family photos were illuminated, such as a photo of all four Grand Duchesses in the Mauve Room. For a fleeing instant, Olga felt a longing in her heart, wishing she could live another day in her earlier years.
"You were right, Papa... we grow up too quickly," she murmured, setting the framed photograph down.
Olga remained silent before adding, "But, to grow up is to learn to cast away the old childish ways..."
She looked through the reports, some of them outdated by over a month. The next monthly reports had not yet arrived, and this made the new Empress feel uneasy again. The thought of not knowing made her feel as if she lacked control. As the ruler of an empire spanning a quarter of all land on Earth, Olga found that unacceptable. She sighed, and looked over the reports again. At least she could extrapolate trends in the economy and public opinion., public unrest had not risen or fallen. However, some statistics caught her gaze. Most of the protestors and rioters were lower-class peasants and workers. The rest of them were intellectuals and middle-class citizens.
She laid back in the chair, and she thought about what caused them to protest. She needed to resolve the issues that had gone unresolved under her father's reign, or else a revolution would occur. Judging by the violence among all the protests, it only took a bit of common sense to realize one thing. Imperial Russia needed to better treat the lower classes. Around ninety percent of all Russians were middle or lower class, and the aristocracy and nobility were no more than ten percent. If her regime were to survive, it would need a larger supporting base of citizens. Looking further through the reports, Olga thought about what actions to take.
One hour passed, and Olga had finished reading the reports. Now she understood the situation that the Romanov dynasty faced. The rigid, backwards ways of the monarchy would never work for the changing times. She knew that the Bolsheviks had plenty of support because of poor treatment of the lower classes. For certain, the peasants and laborers had lower literacy rates and income. That would have to change. Before she could delve deeper into her train of thought, a suited man approached the door. Olga glanced at the man and nodded. He then entered the study alongside two Okhrana agents.
"Your Imperial Majesty, we have found the most likely suspect for the Bolshevik spy who helped the murder of the late Tsar and Tsarina," the man said.
"Who is he?" the young Empress firmly asked, feeling a surge of anger.
"His first name is Viktor. His parents were deceased, and he has one sister named Natasha. She is also in our custody for questioning."
Olga froze. Why did that name sound so familiar? She thought about who Viktor was, and a familiar face came to mind. A white uniformed, tall man with brown eyes. His large and angular nose gave his face a unique appearance, one that she had seen on the Standart while traveling to Livadia. A surge of anger overtook her. She recalled the lifeless stares of the corpses of her parents. She recalled the sounds of gunshots and screams that she heard in the secret hiding room. She took a deep breath, as she knew that she could not let her emotions interfere with her decisions. However, as a tempered young woman, that would be difficult for herself.
"Interrogate Viktor first. Leave his sister alone until further notice," she coldly spoke, her blue eyes simmering with anger.
"As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty," the tall agent spoke, bowing.
"Thank you, Agent Sasha. I will write my orders on paper," Olga said, writing on a wax sealed paper.
Olga gave the orders to the tall suited man, who bowed again. The agents left the room, and Olga sat back in the chair as she exhaled a breath. Soon, there would be justice for the sake of her parents. Finally, their souls would be at peace.
Okhrana Headquarters, St Petersburg
"Tell us the name who orchestrated the Livadia Palace raid."
Viktor remained silent in his electric chair, and he averted his gaze from the tall, blonde agent in front of him. Strapped down, all he could do was scowl at his captor. The agent scowled. He nodded at another shorter agent who stood beside a large lever.
"Pull it."
"Da, Agent Sasha."
Viktor shook and screamed as the ten milliamps of raw electric current coursed through his body. He shook in violent convulsions, the chair shaking from the movements. The torment lasted for a few moments before Agent Sasha ordered the other guard to turn off the current. Viktor slumped back in his chair, his breaths came out ragged. Before he could lose consciousness, he felt a searing pain on his cheek. He jolted awake in shock, his mouth open in a gasp.
Slap!
"I grow tired of your silent game, two weeks is too long. If you will not comply, we will resort to more drastic methods," the blonde agent, Sasha, threatened.
Viktor gasped, and groaned, "Long live the revolution-"
"Argh!"
Another round of intense electric fury was unleashed on the hapless formed Imperial Navy officer for a longer time. His body shook with convulsions so strong, that his arms were sprained. Viktor groaned from the pain. He reminded himself that the cause he supported was a higher one, and that the cruel methods of torture used on him would be exposed. The cruelty and backwardness of the Russian monarchy would soon be exposed while he gave his life for a higher cause. Soon, his role would be done. Viktor thought of his sister, and he felt pity for her. She had never spoken out or rebelled against the regime, but she was paying the price for his rebellion. If the new Empress ordered the torture of his sister, he would lose his resolve for the Bolshevik cause.
Sasha heard a knock at the door behind him. He gestured for the other agent to stay still. He opened the door, and another agent stepped in.
"Agent Oleg, what is your business?"
Oleg, looked at his peer with his brown eyes, and handed him a folded sheet of paper. Sasha opened it and read it.
"Viktor Sotlov, by order of Empress Olga the First of Imperial Russia, the interrogation of Natasha Sotlov is permitted effective immediately," Sasha read, throwing down the paper as soon as he finished reading.
"No, you are bluffing!"
"Well, that Empress is not one to bluff."
"Nyet! You Tsarist podonoks!"
Sasha laughed, and he left the room with his fellow agents, who shut the door. As Viktor heard the door lock, a dreadful feeling swept over him. He could almost feel the goosebumps on his back. It was not long before the door opened again, and two agents entered the room again, holding a brunette woman dressed in a white dress. They tossed her slender frame onto the concrete floor, as if she were a sack of flour.
Natasha coughed, and she shivered from the cool air in the room. She looked at Viktor with a pained look. Her brown eyes looked sadder than ever. "Viktor... please..."
Viktor attempted to speak. "I-"
"Both of you, shut your mouths. We have an interrogation to do," Sasha said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a Mauser C96 pistol.
Sasha cocked his pistol, and aimed it at Natasha, who widened her eyes in fear. "We were ordered to interrogate Natasha, but to interrogate with this handy pistol would be more effective," he said.
"Viktor, do not be a fool," Natasha said in desperation, shaking her head.
"Spare her," Viktor said, but Sasha shook his head.
The other guard pulled out his pistol, and he fired once at Natasha upon her thigh. She cried out in pain. Viktor struggled against his bondings, glaring at the unnamed agent. If his gaze could injure a man, that agent would have died. He felt conflicted. Was the death of his innocent sister a price he could handle for his sympathies to the Bolsheviks?
"Now, Viktor, we do not like to do this... but we will do so if necessary," Sasha said, keeping his pistol aimed at Natasha.
"Go to hell."
Bang!
Natasha received another shot to her leg, and she cried out in pain. She looked at her brother with watery eyes. Seeing his sister in such distress, Viktor felt his heart break. He then felt angry at the revolutionaries, who had left him at the palace as a sitting duck. If not for them, his sister would be unscathed. He felt betrayed by the very people he had sympathized with. No, he could not support them any longer.
"Fine, I- I will tell," Viktor whispered, his tone weak.
"Put down your gun, the traitor wants to speak," Sasha said.
"As you say, Sasha."
Sasha lowered his pistol. "Speak," he said.
"The mastermind... his name is Mikhail Vaganov. He lives mostly in Ekaterinburg, and he hosts meetings in the Ipatiev House."
"What times?"
"Sometime in the evening. Ten past noon, I believe."
"Interesting. Do you have anything more to say?"
"Yes."
Viktor, in the hope of saving his sister, continued to speak.
Olga and Tatiana sat together in the study room, looking over reports yet again. Olga seemed to be undisturbed by the grim news of strikes in Siberia, but Tatiana kept a somber expression on her face. The fact that her sister had ordered the interrogation of an innocent woman made her feel uneasy. Although Olga had seemed hesitant at first, she wrote the order. Tatiana realized yet another thing: she was no longer the head of the Romanov sisters. Tatiana could only hope that her sister would not be corrupted with power, as her recent actions were concerning.
Tatiana set down her papers. "Olya?"
"Yes, Tatya?" Olga said, looking at her sister.
"Are you sure that you have done the right thing with the interrogations?"
"I may not feel completely fine with what I have done, but I must do what is necessary, sister," Olga said, sighing.
"We have talked about this before, politics actually has nothing to do with morals," she added.
"To be honest, I dislike that idea. Even a book can only teach you so much, but not everything about being a good ruler. I would prefer it if you give a lenient sentence to Viktor."
"I understand that we must fight evil with not hate, but kindness. Yet if I am excessively kind, the people will take advantage of my reign. Yes, I may have to be cruel sometimes, but I also need to be reasonable and kind. Having the loyalty and obedience from the people is important."
"At least spare the traitor's sister?"
After a moment, Olga nodded. "Of course, I am no brute like those Bolshevik beasts. She will be spared, and she will resume her normal life."
"And the traitor?"
Olga stared at the reports, and she gave a weak smile. "He will be exiled to France soon. At least I will show some mercy because he has cooperated."
Tatiana smiled. Underneath the hard exterior of an Empress, her reasonable and merciful sister still lived.
