He Became Napoleon’S Genius Son [EN]: Chapter 455

(455) The Tsar Flees the Tsarevich’s Attack

The Russian Empire was the most populous country in Europe at this time.

“But that doesn’t mean we have an unlimited number of troops to deploy. Damn it.”

Imperial Chancellor Rostopchin cursed, a phrase unbecoming his refined features.

Originally, he was supposed to be in Saint Petersburg, managing diplomacy and internal affairs.

But now he was in Kyiv, in southern Russia, a full 1,500 kilometers to the south.

Why was Rostopchin here?

His aide, Count Alexander Ivanovich Tolstoy, looked at the army with a surprised expression.

“So, you’re saying you’ve mobilized as many as 200,000 men?”

“That’s right.”

“His Majesty the Tsar has lost his mind.”

Rostopchin quickly glanced around and put his hand to his mouth.

“Shhh! Even if that’s the truth, there are things you can’t just say out loud!”

The line of soldiers heading to Kyiv along the Dnieper River stretched far into the distance.

The cavalry led the impressive march, with the artillery far in the rear.

In terms of sheer size, it seemed ready to conquer Europe.

General and War Minister Mikhail Barclay de Tolly, standing next to Count Tolstoy, stated coldly.

“The cavalry, including the Imperial Guard, totals 30,000, and there are over 600 cannons.”

“How are you going to drag all that all the way to India, Minister Tolly?”

“Of course, we won’t. [Field Marshal] Kutuzov isn’t that foolish. Most of the troops will be stationed at intermediate bases for supply, and only about 40,000 to 50,000 will actually operate in the Persian border area. About 5,000 cavalry and 50 cannons.”

Rostopchin, who was calculating based on Tolly’s report, breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s manageable. Whew, I can breathe now.”

In reality, the maximum number of soldiers Russia mobilized in this era was about 150,000.

But that many troops were being mobilized for an expeditionary war, not a defensive one.

Supply wagons were already running short, and soldiers were carrying their own food.

However, this was the result of barely persuading the Tsar to postpone the war preparations.

If they had started marching in 1808 as originally demanded by Tsar Paul, they would have had to move the troops without any preparation.

Of course, the current state of preparation wasn’t ideal either.

But if he were to refuse the Emperor’s orders, he should have resigned from his position in the first place.

Tolly mechanically reported to Rostopchin, a powerful figure who cherished the country in his own way to maintain his position.

“First of all, the most important point on the advance route is the Caucasus.”

“From the Caucasus to India again, that’s a long way.”

“But it’s absolutely necessary. Fortunately, our ‘ally,’ France, has dispatched an envoy to reassure Persia.”

Rostopchin frowned.

“Why is that fortunate? Are they betraying us and launching a diversionary attack?”

In fact, Napoleon never truly abandoned his ambition for India.

Moreover, unlike in actual history, Egypt was now under French control.

Naturally, India had come into Napoleon’s sights.

So, Napoleon sent an envoy to Persia, as in the original timeline, or even more actively.

The envoy, led by Pierre Jaubert and Claude Mathieu de Gardane, signed a mutual non-aggression treaty between Persia and French Egypt.

However, from Russia’s perspective, Persia was an opponent they had fought since the reign of Empress Catherine.

Therefore, they couldn’t help but worry that France might betray them.

But this time, Tolstoy shook his head.

“That’s unlikely. The conquest of India is indeed the dream of the French Emperor and his stepson. That’s what my cousin and French ambassador, Pyotr Alexandrovich Tolstoy, reported.”

“Well, they even conquered Egypt. They are ruled by leaders who are as crazy as we are.”

“The difference is that they succeeded.”

Alexander, the Count of the Tolstoy family, a prestigious Russian family, smiled wryly.

“We are likely to fail.”

Tolly didn’t say anything, even after hearing the voices of the civil officials chattering beside him.

Tolly wasn’t usually assertive.

Later, in history, he created the so-called scorched-earth tactics, but withdrew them when the Emperor and other generals wavered.

The reason why he only mechanically presented possible plans for the Tsar’s absurd Indian expedition was also because of this.

Of course, it was also because of his perceived weakness as a foreigner.

However, for that reason, he was an easy soldier for both the Tsar and Chancellor Rostopchin to manage.

Rostopchin suddenly turned to Tolstoy and Tolly and said.

“Who knows? Maybe France only occupied Egypt to conquer India. Then, we might end up only conquering Persia!”

“Isn’t that a matter that our vassals cannot decide?”

“Once we win, we can petition then, can’t we? Huh?”

Chancellor Rostopchin was speaking hopefully when he raised his eyebrows.

-Whack! Whack! Whack!

Down the hill in the distance, soldiers were being whipped among the marching troops.

Count Tolstoy, surprised, approached, and the whipping stopped.

Count Tolstoy pointed at the officer wielding the whip with a surprised face.

“What is this!”

“Count Tolstoy? Please continue on your way. I’m maintaining military discipline.”

“What? No, what kind of military discipline is this with whipping!”

But the officer with the whip scoffed.

“Otherwise, these serf bastards won’t listen! It’s different from the conscripted army of ordinary commoners!”

Serfs.

A semi-slave class tied to the manor in the Middle Ages, farming and living on the land.

Currently, in the 19th century, most serfs had disappeared in Europe, but serfdom had been strengthened in Russia.

This was the result of the nobility-favoring policies of the former Empress Catherine to mask her vulnerabilities as a foreigner and not a member of the imperial family.

Of course, serfs were generally less educated and had poorer nutrition than commoners, and were not originally subject to conscription.

However, as the Russian Imperial Army suddenly formed a large army, a situation arose where there were not enough recruits from commoners alone.

Although it is difficult to find accurate statistics for Russia, according to later historical data, about 40 percent of the population were serfs in the mid-19th century.

Nevertheless, governing with whips was excessive even for the Russian army, where beatings were commonplace.

Tolstoy was about to grit his teeth and snatch the officer’s whip.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his shoulder.

It was Chancellor Rostopchin.

“That’s enough.”

“Your Excellency, this is excessive! Even if you’re trying to maintain military discipline!”

“I said that’s enough.”

Rostopchin turned and shook his head.

“To secure troop resources, conscription officers and officers are all working hard. Damn it!”

He could save the serf-born soldier in front of him here.

However, if a serf-born soldier who was not disciplined looted, raped, or, in the worst case, disobeyed orders, the officer would have no way to control him.

Rostopchin did not prevent the abuse of soldiers because he understood the situation.

Count Tolstoy turned away, gritting his teeth.

“I hope this war ends quickly in some form.”

But the Count had no idea how the war would end.

***

Outside Kyiv, there was a tent with the emblem of a double-headed eagle prominently displayed on the black curtain.

“The time has finally come, Tsarevich [Crown Prince].”

In the Russian Empire of the time, there was only one person who could use this title.

Alexander.

Crown Prince Alexander was silent before turning his gaze.

There was Bagration, the conqueror of Finland.

“General Bagration. Do you trust Bennigsen?”

“No. But Bennigsen is a man who is well aware of the current situation. He also knows that this war is crazy.”

“Then, it’s no exaggeration to say that no one will stop us today, right?”

The aide, Novosiltsev, bowed his head at the Crown Prince’s question.

“Of course. Even the commander of the Imperial Guard is on our side.”

The commander of the Imperial Guard, Arakcheev, was originally the Emperor’s confidant.

However, Arakcheev eventually gave up on Paul, who was making the insane move of the Indian expedition.

Of course, he wouldn’t actively participate, but he had received a definite answer that he would open the way.

Among the retainers surrounding Alexander, his friend Stroganov stepped forward.

“Everyone wants His Highness the Crown Prince to be Emperor.”

Crown Prince Alexander looked around and nodded.

“Good, gentlemen. I abandon His Majesty to save the country.”

At that moment, Bagration drew his sword and pointed it into the air.

Although his wife was involved with Metternich in Paris, he was a dignified general commanding the 2nd Army Corps here.

Bagration shouted to the surrounding generals in a voice that seemed to contain resentment.

“Everyone, draw your swords! For our mother Russia, we depose the Tsar!”

“Depose the Tsar!”

“Glory to Alexander Tsarevich!”

Then Alexander nodded.

“Let’s go!”

At the same time, the curtain opened.

The soldiers who had been waiting outside cleared the way with muskets in their hands.

Bagration led the army with soldiers armed with bayonets.

The goal was one.

The Emperor’s encampment where the Tsar was waiting.

-Thud! Thud!

The Imperial Guard soldiers, who did not know what was happening, were surprised and jumped up when the soldiers of the 2nd Army Corps of the Indian Expeditionary Force rushed in.

“Oh, General. Why suddenly?”

This was clearly the rear.

They would have to go more than 1,000 kilometers to the Caucasus Mountains, which were expected to be the battlefield.

So, they were careless, but suddenly this happened.

Bagration took out a pistol instead of speaking and shot.

-Bang!

An Imperial Guard soldier fell, struck by a new-style gun imported from France not long ago.

“Everyone step back! This is a legitimate succession to the throne!”

“Heeek, it’s a rebellion! Ack!”

“Anyone who mentions rebellion will be killed! There will be no retreat today!”

The commander of the Imperial Guard, Arakcheev, watched from afar with a sad face and disappeared.

With this, no one could stop the Crown Prince’s uprising.

However, the moment the Emperor’s tent was opened, a problem arose.

General Guillaume Emmanuel Guignard, Bagration’s aide who jumped in first, was surprised and ran out.

His face, which was always refined as a French exile aristocrat, was pale.

“Something terrible has happened! His Majesty is not here!”

The Crown Prince, Alexander, who was waiting outside, turned to his friend, looking pale himself.

“What should I do, Stroganov?”

Stroganov narrowed his brows.

Clearly, the Emperor must have fled beforehand.

Chasing and catching him was one option, but what was important now was not that.

200,000 troops.

He must first seize control of this encampment.

“As it is, there is only one way. Your Highness must seize the entire expeditionary force and proclaim yourself Tsar again!”

“What?”

“Everyone shout! Long live Tsar Alexander!”

At that moment, Bennigsen ran up and shouted first.

“Long live Tsar Alexander!”

Before he knew it, the shouts were echoing throughout the Kyiv encampment.

***

At that moment, Tsar Paul was fleeing north along the Dnieper River.

“This is betrayal! How dare my son betray me!”

A French soldier wiping sweat from Paul, who was trembling on the boat, said.

“Your Majesty, it is best to speak after you have completely escaped.”

“Thank you, Joubert! You, a foreigner, are my only loyal subject!”

“Originally, I specialize in long-distance running, so it’s not that difficult.”

Joubert, a man who once ran through Canada and Siberia, smiled.

It was a very narrow escape.

If he had been a little late, Paul would have been handed over to Alexander long ago.

Although he was a foreigner and could not prevent the rebellion, Joubert had also experienced countless coups in Paris.

Thanks to that, he quickly noticed the ominous movements within the corps while serving as a military attaché in Russia.

“Where shall we take you, Your Majesty?”

Paul frowned and then his eyes flashed.

“Moscow. That is my only hope!”

The return to Moscow, the former capital.

A new chapter was being written in Joubert’s running legend.

Of course, it was a tragedy in Russian history.