LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 31
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Moscow
Around this time, Moscow was already in chaos from the evacuation throngs.
The Bolsheviks threatened with guns, labeling those fleeing as counter-revolutionaries, executing examples to instill fear, but the evacuation showed no signs of stopping.
“Those damn counter-revolutionaries!”
“Bullshit!”
Even after several threats from the officers, the evacuation continued with scornful laughter.
More and more people began to openly curse the Bolsheviks.
Of course, they were usually shot on the spot, but it only fueled resistance against the Bolsheviks.
And then,
Trotsky returned to the party upon hearing news of Lenin’s collapse, glaring furiously at Stalin.
“Stalin! What’s going on? Comrade Lenin has lost consciousness!”
“It seems he has collapsed from overwork.”
Of course, it wasn’t just overwork.
Stalin had administered drugs to Lenin through his wife.
Stalin had two plans.
If Lenin were to die, he would spread the word that it was an assassination by the Okhrana, branding the White Army as treacherous.
However, if Lenin did not die, they would attribute it to overwork, claiming Lenin’s collapse caused confusion, so they’d flee to Petrograd for protection and stall for time.
To set the stage, he instructed Mikhail Frunze to attack the White Army at least once.
Naturally, Trotsky, who was unaware of Stalin’s plans, rolled his eyes in despair.
In the current situation, the symbol of the Soviet, Lenin, had fallen.
For Trotsky, this was akin to a death sentence in an already difficult military situation.
“How could he collapse at a time like this?”
“What’s the situation?”
It was obvious what the answer would be, but Stalin poured cold water and asked Trotsky.
Trotsky downed vodka and slammed the bottle onto the desk with a crash.
“Anton Denikin can be blocked somehow. However, the princess and Baron Beria’s army is beyond us; moreover, Mikhail Frunze had failed in his offensive!”
“That was my doing.”
“What do you mean? You got us to crash into a situation where we can’t even defend?”
Trotsky’s eyes widened in surprise at the realization that it was Stalin who had set such a suicidal course.
What kind of madness was this?
In such a difficult situation, how could he make defense all but impossible?
“The fact that Comrade Lenin has collapsed must not get out.”
“What in the world are you thinking?”
“Call the Red Army stationed in the Baltic and bring them to Petrograd.”
“While the counter-revolutionary princess glares red-eyed and aims to take Moscow, you want us to run away?”
The Bolshevik leadership leaving Moscow would mean a clear defeat at the hands of that Anastasia lead by the White Army.
There was no way he could accept that reality.
“Besides, isn’t Moscow still not officially the capital?”
“That’s not the point!”
Right, it’s not.
But Stalin thought it better to at least create an excuse before leaving.
He would never run away with his tail between his legs.
“Right. I know. So, are we all just waiting to die?”
“What?”
“That revenge-crazed princess is leading the counter-revolutionaries to consume Moscow. Those here who die in battle are one thing, but if caught, that princess will kill us horribly.”
“Are you afraid of death?”
“Am I afraid of death? Damn right, I am. Stalin himself was not meant to die here.”
He wanted to build a nation that achieved communism somehow. He dreamed of being greater than Lenin.
“With Comrade Lenin down, communism is faltering. If we die, communism is truly finished.”
“Mmm.”
Trotsky could not deny that.
Global Communists were watching this civil war.
They were observing the Bolsheviks fighting against the counter-revolutionary imperialists led by Princess Anastasia.
And this civil war was heading towards a defeat for communism and the Bolsheviks.
If all the Bolsheviks present here were to die after this battle, they might go down as martyrs to the communists.
However, on the contrary, the failure of violent struggles like the Bolsheviks would only prove to world communists that their hopes were fragile, and they would surely shrink even more.
Then, they had to survive at all costs.
With a warm expression, Stalin placed both hands on Trotsky’s shoulders.
“Listen, Trotsky. We are only retreating momentarily. To prevent the fall of communism. Udenich has not yet crossed into Petrograd. We will reinforce over there for now.”
Udenich, responsible for the siege of Petrograd, could not cross there immediately.
Due to Anastasia’s survival and the issue of Finland’s independence, Finland did not side with the White Army, making it impossible for Udenich alone.
Trotsky couldn’t deny that Petrograd still stood stable either.
There was no need to keep fighting the counter-revolutionaries here.
“What about Moscow?”
“Leave it to Mikhail Frunze.”
“It won’t hold for long.”
Trotsky assessed the current situation with cold clarity.
Mikhail Frunze had held out for a while, but it was only a matter of time.
The offensive led by Frunze was not even a threat to Anastasia, and it was clear that Moscow would soon fall to the counter-revolutionaries.
“What matters is the survival of the Communist Party. You will take care of Comrade Lenin.”
“What about you, Koba?”
“One of us must become bait to lure that vengeful princess. I’ll deceive their eyes and head to Petrograd.”
“Good luck.”
Trotsky held Stalin’s hands as if he was moved for the first time.
He never would have thought to see such a spirit of sacrifice.
Stalin had previously advocated the execution of the Tsar’s family during Kerensky’s republic.
And after the Tsar’s family execution, when things had turned strange with Anastasia’s survival, he pressed Trotsky himself, who had issued the execution order.
Just that alone made Trotsky see Stalin as a man obsessed with power.
For the first time, he felt ashamed of believing Stalin was like the imperialists, driven mad by a thirst for power.
But Stalin had different thoughts.
‘Fool, we can spill Trotsky’s position to the imperialists and escape this way.’
Stalin thought so while feeding subtle rumors to the Okhrana scouting Moscow, and he preemptively left Moscow with his wife, Voroshilov, Bulygheer, and Tukharchevsky.
Originally, these three fought the White Army under Mikhail Frunze, but Stalin treated them as key figures to escape together.
“Is it okay for just us to leave?”
“If we head to Petrograd, we’ll have to deal with the White Army. We’ll need you there.”
“It’s a pity Budeiny isn’t here. I understand. I’ll follow.”
Around this time, some suspiciously German-speaking White Army members were meandering far around Moscow.
Hearing rumors that the US military was ambushing the fleeing Bolsheviks with the support of the Asian Cavalry Division, the German soldiers ended up losing track of the Americans.
“What the hell are we doing in this Slavic land?”
A German soldier complained from a location that seemed near Moscow but was unknown.
“Damn it. Why do we have to fight for these Slavs? Even wearing their damn uniforms.”
As the disgruntled German sergeant searched for the US military, a squad of the Red Army was caught moving.
Yeah, it’s all because of those Bolsheviks.
Jews and Bolsheviks.
These two entities were why the German soldiers found themselves here.
Because of the Jews, Germany had lost, and because of the Bolsheviks, he was in this land of Slavs.
“I need to vent my anger.”
This Russian sergeant, proficient in German, fired at the group dressed as the Red Army.
He needed to pour out this pent-up frustration on those bastards.
“Bolsheviks! Capture them!”
Bang!
He scattered his anger towards the fleeing Bolsheviks, and finally, the bullets from this German White Army soldier pierced the groin of a fleeing man as if granting his wish.
“Ahhhhh!”
Stalin collapsed in far greater pain than when he traversed Siberia or when he was arrested and exiled to Siberia.
Blood gushed from between his legs.
In terrible agony, Stalin could not regain his senses.
Even at this moment, blood was flowing from his groin.
“Aah! You, there’s blood between your legs!”
“Stalin! Stalin!”
“What the hell! Isn’t his groin soaked red!”
“No! We must flee to Petrograd! Ugh!”
Not long after leaving Moscow, Stalin and his friends were captured by those suspiciously German-speaking White Army soldiers.
And then,
“It oddly feels refreshing. What’s this?”
The German soldier who shot Stalin’s groin, for a moment, was freed from the shock of Germany’s defeat as he felt oddly satisfied.
It was as if he had avenged a nemesis from a past life.
He felt incredibly relieved.
* * *
That solid Moscow crumbled.
No, it was never that solid to begin with. It was like pouring water into a broken jar. Inside, there was a lack of cooperation with Petrograd, and outside, we kept bashing it without any resolution.
“I surrender.”
Mikhail Frunze, the Eastern commander of the Red Army in charge of defending Moscow, surrendered shortly after.
As if there had never been a desperate, blood-soaked battle in which they killed each other, the White Army entered Moscow, which now was eerily silent except for what was visible.
For reference, the surrendered Bolsheviks were, of course, completely disarmed.
“Finally, we have reclaimed the Third Rome!”
I entered Moscow city wearing Luise’s modified military uniform, reminiscent of a Russian general’s.
The White Army soldiers who entered first cleared the way and lined up on both sides of the avenue to greet me.
Behind the White Army, Moscow’s citizens cautiously glanced our way.
There were parents trembling while holding their children.
There was an old man watching us with lifeless eyes.
A child, appearing younger than me, was crying in a Soviet military uniform.
They were half by choice and half by coercion. After all, they had supported or cooperated with the Bolsheviks.
They must have feared that they would be killed, just as the Bolsheviks had done to others.
I stepped forward before them.
“Nothing happened.”
“Your Highness?”
“After the Black Death, the worst plague flared up only briefly. There has been no fratricidal conflict, nothing at all.”
The citizens of Moscow held their breath and quietly listened to my words.
“Humans must endure trials. Our Russia has simply gone through a little trial. Even so, we are Russians, and heirs to the powerful Eastern Roman Empire. Let us rise above this trial.”
It has only been a brief moment of illness.
Yet we are still the same Russians and heirs of the mighty Roman Empire; let us rise above the current pain.
“The funerals for those who died from the plague shall be held after we restore Moscow.”
All of this is due to the Red Plague.
None of us have any fault whatsoever.
All must be forgotten.
“Now, Moscow’s citizens, return to your work.”
Just that final statement was enough.
Now, let’s wrap up and clean up the remaining Bolsheviks.
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