Snow muffled the capital like a woolen shroud. St. Petersburg held its breath.
The Decembrist conspiracy loomed like a blade above the Empire's throat—reformist officers readying themselves to revolt in two days, fueled by Western ideals and a desire to modernize Russia at gunpoint. Mikhail, standing at the threshold of the Imperial Archives, knew the moment would define the future.
This is the crack in the dam, he thought. Where the old world bleeds out.
The archives were cold and vast. Guards flanked the doors, barely acknowledging him as he entered, parchment crinkling underfoot. Torches lined the stone halls. Ancient tomes sat beside confiscated manifestos, trade records, secret treaties. The empire's soul was stored in silence here.
He approached the main desk, where a spectacled clerk nodded with suspicion. "Authorization?"
Mikhail lifted the medallion Count Orlov had handed him—the spymaster's seal. The clerk flinched and stepped aside.
Within minutes, Mikhail had what he needed:
The confirmed meeting places of Decembrist cells.
A list of officers suspected of loyalty to either Constantine or Nicholas.
Personal letters from Grand Duke Constantine himself, expressing refusal of the throne.
The future unfolded like a battle plan.
[System Prompt: Branch Decision – Influence the Uprising]
[Option 1: Sabotage the Decembrists to Gain Tsar Nicholas's Favor – Reward: Official Position, Increased Security]
[Option 2: Secretly Guide the Uprising to Fail Gracefully, Blame Radicals – Reward: Public Sympathy, Underground Contacts, Legacy Points Bonus]
Mikhail narrowed his eyes. Direct sabotage would put him in Nicholas's camp, but tie him to reactionary forces. Quiet manipulation, however… he could earn influence without showing his hand.
"I choose option two," he murmured.
[Decision Logged – Operation False Torch Initiated] [New Module Unlocked: Social Influence Tree I – Track Public Opinion, Media Influence, Propaganda Effects]
That evening, Mikhail met with a radical Decembrist colonel—Alexei Muravyov—under the guise of being a sympathizer. A quiet tavern near the Neva served as their rendezvous.
"I read your pamphlets," Muravyov said, clasping his shoulder. "I knew you weren't just a noble brat."
Mikhail smiled tightly. "Russia needs reform. Not chaos. We must be strategic."
He planted suggestions. Urged restraint. Urged delays. Planted false intel. Directed their passion without letting it ignite.
By dawn, Decembrist leaders argued among themselves.
By noon, Nicholas had declared himself Tsar.
By the uprising's official day, confusion reigned. Regiments showed late. Muravyov vanished. The rebellion collapsed before a shot was fired.
In the aftermath, Count Orlov summoned Mikhail again.
"Your fingerprints are nowhere," the old man said. "But your stench is all over it."
Mikhail raised a brow. "Problem?"
Orlov poured him a glass of Crimean brandy. "No. Opportunity."
[Legacy Points +150]
[New Reputation Earned: The Grey Shadow – Known Among the Elite for Subtle Influence and Ruthless Efficiency]
Back in his quarters, Mikhail opened his journal. He drew a line through the words Decembrist Revolt and wrote beneath it:
"Redirected. Not destroyed."
The Empire hadn't seen him coming.
That would not last.