The Winter Palace, Saint Petersburg, Saint Petersburg Governorate, Russian Empire, 2 November 1911
On paper, this seemed like the simplest plan ever. Russia would take advantage of the chaos in China to annex a significant border region, just as his grandfather had done in 1858.
Surely the Chinese would not be in any position to object, especially when the Qing were fighting the Islanders. After all, he was quite literally following in his grandfather's footsteps.
In reality, it had been a disaster. Two expeditions of Muslims, Cossacks, and Imperial Army regulars marched into the regions of East Turkestan and Mongolia, expecting to meet little (if any) resistance.
Instead, they were met with the full force of the Islanders that had wiped them out in a matter of weeks. Or at least that's what his advisors thought had happened, as there were few (if any) survivors from either expedition.
China, the very nation that had been humiliated again and again over the last few decades, had beaten them.
Not the Japanese, no. China, of all people.
And the telegram he held in his hands was only further proof of it.
To the Tsar of all Russias:
While I and my expeditionary force have been tasked with reinforcing the local forces and holding Zheltorossiya, our forces were met with heavy resistance from the Republican Chinese.
As such, I had tasked my men with holding the line outside of Harbin and consolidating our hold on the outer area of Manchuria, while the Chinese depleted themselves against the Japanese. However, the Japanese (and their Qing allies) were quickly routed, and the Chinese Republicans turned to fight us, instead.
Although my men spent weeks entrenching ourselves on the border of our side of Manchuria (as per the 1907 agreement), the Chinese Republicans were able to utilize their superior firepower and technology to penetrate our lines with ease. In a matter of days, these forces had managed to encircle and either annihilate or capture the vast majority of the Zheltorossiya expeditionary force.
While I will not doubt the valor and bravery of my men, there is only so much that infantrymen and cavalry can do against armored vehicles and airplanes that can attack our men with impunity.
This, compounded with the cutting of the Trans-Siberian Railway (and by extension our supply of manpower, food, and fuel) had led to my decision to consolidate what manpower and equipment I had left and prepare a defense around Vladivostok. While a war of attrition would be possible, continued enemy attacks had made coordination impractical, at best.
Although a relief force had been sent eastwards, continued attacks on the Trans-Siberian Railway and other relevant infrastructure made any hope of resupply by land nigh-impossible. Moreover, any sea-based attempts at resupplying us would take, at best, four months.
Upon taking stock of what remained, Commander Kolchak had informed me that while we may have enough food to last us six months, we only had enough fuel to to last three months. This, coupled with the necessity of the Trans-Siberian Railway for both food and fuel for all settlements east of Lake Baikal, presented us with the grim realization that without the railroads, our people in the Far East would either starve or freeze to death this winter.
Given these circumstances, it is with great regret that I have surrendered the Russian Far East, including the Fortress of Vladivostok, to the Chinese Republicans. While I take full responsibility for my actions, I request that it be considered that I did so to prevent the starvation of our people.
Furthermore, I request that it be acknowledged that my men and I performed to the best of our abilities given our insufficient manpower and supplies.
Your humble servant,
General Alexei Alekseyevich Brusilov
The Tsar gripped the telegram with a mix of frustration and shock.
"This," he said to Foreign Minister Sazonov, "This is evidence that General Brusilov has formally surrendered to the Chinese. My agents in the Okhrana have verified it themselves."
"I see… And our current military status?"
"We currently are in control of all territory up to Chita," Minister Sukhomlinov confirmed. "However, continued Chinese attacks on troop concentrations east of Lake Baikal, coupled with attacks on the Trans-Siberian Railway itself have prevented any offensive action on our part."
"And why is that?" The Tsar demanded. "Isn't there a large concentration of reinforcements at Irkutsk?"
"Yes, there are," the minister confirmed. "However, most transport capacity over Lake Baikal is currently focused on supplying what food and fuel we can to our remaining territories to prevent a widespread famine."
"What do you mean when you say, 'widespread famine?'"
"In short, Your Majesty," Sukhomlinov began, "We do not have the ability to transport enough food and fuel to the cities and settlements east of Lake Baikal without repairs to the Trans-Siberian Railway. However, continued Chinese attacks on the Railway make it nigh-impossible, so long as we are in a state of war."
"I see. Now, how difficult would it be to transport our forces over Lake Baikal and supply them in a second expedition?"
"May I speak freely?"
"You better, Minister."
"To put it simply? We cannot do that. We are barely able to supply a fraction of our people east of Lake Baikal with enough food and fuel to survive the winter. And while we could, in theory, build up more transport capacity in Irkutsk to supply our people and a second expeditionary force, these new boats would not be ready until spring."
The Tsar furrowed his brow at the minister's analysis.
"And what would happen if we prepare a second expeditionary force in the spring?"
"It is likely that the Trans-Siberian Railway will not be repaired due to continued attacks, which could lead to tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of Russians freezing and starving to death during the Winter."
The Tsar shook his head at the news. Then this expedition truly is a failure. At best, I lose over a hundred thousand men. In all likelihood, a hundred thousand of my subjects would join them.
"Sazonov," he said dejectedly, turning to his Foreign Minister, "As my Foreign Minister, I am authorizing you to travel to Irkutsk to negotiate with the Chinese."
"Of course, Your Majesty. Though I do fear that the Chinese would exact heavy concessions from us for invading their territory."
"Go on."
"It is likely," the Foreign Minister continued, "That the Chinese would demand that we relinquish all territories your grandfather gained during the 1858 Treaty of Aigun and the 1860 Treaty of Peking."
"Surely you can't can't be serious," the Tsar exclaimed, "This would be an utter humiliation for our nation. And they dare to threaten my subjects for their revenge?"
"It would be," Sazonov admitted. Unlike the Tsar, his own distaste was much more subdued. "But it would almost certainly save your subjects from freezing to death in the Winter."
"...Damn it." That was all the Tsar could say. "Damn it all."
The room fell silent as the various ministers held their tongues while the Tsar stewed in his frustration.
"Perhaps a scapegoat could take the blame," Minister Aleksandr Makarov offered. Minister Sukhomlinov looked at him warily. "I take it we are all aware of the importance of preventing civil unrest against His Majesty, if we want to prevent a repeat of 1905?"
All around the room the various ministers nodded. Even Sukhomlinov.
"Then it is clear," Makarov reiterated, "That we need a scapegoat so that the people do not take out their frustrations against the Tsar."
"And exactly who would you have in mind, Makarov?"
"Isn't it obvious?" the Minister of Internal Affairs asked the room. "None other than General Brusilov himself."
Sugamo Prison, Tokyo, Empire of Japan, 3 November 1911
Ozaki Yukio awoke to the sound of gunfire. It was hardly the first time it'd happened, but it was just as rude an awakening this time.
No, this had become a daily occurrence, ever since the conscription riots had started and Katsura had the brilliant idea to have the troops fire on the protesters. After that, it all became a blur.
Day in and day out, protesters would clash with the police, with the latter firing at the former, until police began to defect. Soon, there were armed men on both sides, and the police were outnumbered.
So Katsura called in the Army the day after, and they would march on the protesters and their police defector allies. That is, until there were men in the IJA defecting to protect the protesters. And now, the Army and police were similarly-armed and outnumbered by the people they'd been sent to arrest.
The guards were in a panic. Rumors began to spread that this wasn't just happening in Tokyo. No, there were riots in Yokohama, Osaka, Nagoya, Sapporo, Fukuoka, Kawasaki, Kyoto, Saitama, Hiroshima, and Sendai, if they were to be believed.
Truth be told, Ozaki didn't know what was going on around there, but if Tokyo was anything to go by, the war had grown unpopular in record time, even moreso once Katsura had given the order to begin conscription.
Every day he could see the protesters grow in numbers, no just from those angry about the war and conscription, but from soldiers and policemen who refused to fire on their countrymen.
And as they grew, the crowd grew more confident, to the point that they'd even charged the line of soldiers outside the prison.
It was a brutal sight, with protesters swarming the better-armed soldiers and police who'd been sent to stop them. Sure, the soldiers had five bullets in their Arisakas, but for every protester they'd shot, two more would come closer, charging at them with a tenacity the soldiers thought that only they had.
It was at that point that the guards had made up their minds and abandoned the prison. While the vast majority ran off towards the next choke point set up by the IJA, there were those who ran to join the crowd, their defections met with cheers and embraces.
And on and on they marched, until they finally reached the prison. To their relief, one of the defectors had the good sense to bring the keys with him so they could enter without much drama.
He could hear the protesters rushing into the prison, with young men trying key after key to free every prisoner they could get their hands on. For the most part, these were other protesters who'd been captured by the police and IJA.
That is, until they got to his cell.
"Mayor Ozaki?" asked one of the protesters. From the looks of him, he could be no older than his late teens. "Is that you?"
"Yes, that is who I am," Ozaki answered, before turning to the others. "I don't suppose you're expecting me to pick up arms. I am not much of a fighter, you know."
"A fighter?" The young man snorted. "Sir, we are here to ask you to lead us."
Now that? That was not what Ozaki had expected. Yet here were these young men (though he could've sworn he'd seen a few young women as well), and they were armed like soldiers. Especially when one of them came running in with rifles he'd looted from the armory.
"Will you lead us?" the young man asked again. "We would be honored if you would join us, sir."
Ozaki looked at the young men, their eyes hopeful and determined. But he could see the guns in their hands, along with the blood on their shirts that, at best, was their own.
Here was his chance to stand up for what he had always stood for. But the means? He wished there was another way.
"I will lead you," he said to the men around him. "Under one condition."
They all looked at him intently, though a few of them tensed up, knowing full well what he was going to say.
"Go on," said the young man, their leader. "What is it, sir?"
"I know that I cannot ask you all to lay down your arms. So my one request is that you do not open fire unless fired upon. Is that acceptable?"
The young protesters looked around at the place, wondering just what the Mayor of Tokyo City was thinking, before turning to one another.
"Okay," said one protester. "That seems fair, right?"
"Yeah! I think we can do that," said another.
"I say yes!" a third shouted. "Who's with me?"
All around the room, the protesters nodded, whether they were carrying guns or not.
"I see…" Ozaki would be lying if he said he wasn't happy at the sight. "Then I accept your offer."
Moscow, Moscow Governorate, Russian Empire, 4 November 1911
Diterikhs couldn't believe what he was reading.
"As a result of hs failure in the invasion of Manchuria," he read aloud, "General Aleksei Alekseyevich Brusilov is to be arrested and subject to a court-martial for cowardice, mismanagement of the military, and the loss of surrender of Vladivostok, Northern Sakhalin, Khabarovsk, as well as the Amur and Primosrkaya Oblasts."
"In addition," he continued, "Commander Aleksandr Kolchak is to be arrested and subject to a court-martial for cowardice and the loss of the Pacific Fleet."
"Damn it!" Kornilov slammed his fist into the table. "This is a fucking disgrace!"
"Lavr Georgiyevich," the Diterikhs shot back, "Given the circumstances, it is remarkable that General Brusilov managed to last that long, only to surrender to save tens, if not hundreds of thousands of Russians from freezing to death in the winter."
"I'm not talking about General Brusilov," his subordinate spat. "I'm talking about- about this! He was sent there with not enough men, note enough food, and not enough equipment, against an enemy that can annihilate the entire Japanese fleet in a single night. And the Tsar has the audacity to blame Brusilov for the failure?!"
"Ah, I see." Enraged as the man was, at least he and Diterikhs were on the same page. "Yes, this entire expedition was doomed from the start, and it was hubris of the Tsar to think that the Chinese would simply roll over as they did in his grandfather's time."
"General?" Wrangel couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you questioning the Tsar's authority?"
"I am merely analyzing his capabilities as a leader," Diterikhs told him. "While General Kornilov is understandably frustrated, he is correct, wouldn't you say?"
"...Yes." From the sound of him, Wrangel didn't fully agree, but he wasn't about to object, either. "But there isn't much we can do."
"I would beg to differ," his commander told him, handing him a missive. "As the ranking officer of the reinforcement mission, I have been tasked with detaining General Brusilov once he arrives in Moscow."
"How would you-"
"That depends, Wrangel. Can I trust you?"
"Yes, sir." Despite saying this, Kornilov continued to glare daggers at him.
"Swear it."
"On what, sir?"
"On anything," Kornilov told him. "A Bible, your Honor, or even your mother. Just swear on something."
"Alright, then. I swear on my honor that I will not betray your trust, General."
Diterikhs turned to Kornilov, who slowly nodded.
"Well then, Wrangel, the answer is simple: I do not intend to imprison nor prosecute General Brusilov or Commander Kolchak. As far as I am concerned, both of them are innocent of any prosecution."
"Sir, is this not treason?"
"Normally, it would be," Diterikhs sighed. "But these are abnormal times. Besides, it is not as if the rest of the military doesn't share our sentiments. Isn't that true, Denikin?"
"In fact it is, sir. While the general staff may be more sympathetic to the Tsar, I have noticed similar sentiments among the other units."
"Can we trust them?"
"If it came to it, we would have to remove their generals from the chain of command. However, it does seem that the average soldier is more frustrated with the Tsar than General Brusilov. In their eyes, it is a 'Stab in the Back' on the Tsar's part by not providing enough manpower and supplies."
"I see… Would it be possible to out-maneuver them?"
"Possibly," Denikin figured. "If it came down to it, I do believe that we could count on the loyalty of the units around Moscow. While it is the largest concentration of troops in Russia, we would still have to contend with Saint Petersburg."
"Of course." All things considered, this was one contingency he didn't think would work. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. "We have much to discuss."
"Indeed." From the way he sounded, Kornilov was the one most on board with this plot. "But for the time being, we should prepare for contingencies. If, say, the Tsar demanded that we hand over General Brusilov."
"Then we must do all we can to push the narrative that the Tsar is to blame for Zheltorossiya, rather than Brusilov," Diterikhs said plainly. It was obvious, of course, but that was the plan. "But we cannot wait until Brusilov arrives in Moscow. No, the people need to hear the truth now. Denikin?"
"Yes, General?"
"I am tasking you with penning an anonymous letter that places the blame for Zheltorossiya at the Tsar's feet, not Brusilov's. It would need to be printed and distributed."
"Discreetly?"
"Of course. Can you do that?"
"I believe so, General. I should have it penned by the evening, and I know a printer who can work discreetly."
"Good. Then that will be your task for the foreseeable future," Diterikhs told him, before turning to an uneasy Wrangel. "I take it you have some concerns?"
"Yes. While an anonymous letter may have some reach, is this the only method we are using?"
"Hardly," Diterikhs told the young officer. "Look out the window."
Wrangel turned to see the crowds of people marching through the streets, expressing their frustration at the Tsar's failures while the police failed to hold them back. There were even banners calling for the Tsar to cede power, though what exactly that meant was anyone's guess.
"If we had been alone in our opinion," Diterikhs continued, having risen to join Wrangel, "Then it would not be enough. But this? We are simply saying what so many others know to be true."
"That the Tsar… stabbed General Brusilov in the back?"
"Precisely."
