The first emotion the generals at Sevastopol Fortress felt upon hearing of Gennady's dramatic suicide incident was confusion.
Suicide? Why?
At first, they assud he had taken an extre asure to preserve at least his honor and avoid a disgraceful punishnt.
But after hearing the full story, their confusion only deepened.
"…Was Gennady really that kind of commander? One who cared so much for his soldiers?"
"I'm not sure. He was sent to the Asian front, so I don't really know…"
"To say that soldiers shouldn't be treated as expendables for the Emperor's pride… Those are not words you say unless you're truly prepared to die."
"…And he did throw his life away."
A man who had risen through connections and spent his days making a ss of things had suddenly started speaking like soone in his right mind.
Admiral Pavel Nakhimov widened his eyes in disbelief.
"What? Don't tell you've been moved by Gennady?"
"That's only because you weren't there, Admiral. It's not just —every officer present probably feels the sa."
"…What? Wait. Even if what he did ca from genuine patriotism, do you have any idea what will happen if that spreads among the soldiers? You should've strictly silenced everyone who was there!"
"We did. But, Admiral… there were war correspondents present as well. Do you really think they'll write the sa kind of articles after witnessing that?"
"Damn it! Then you should've banned the reporters entirely! No—kick every journalist out of the army imdiately!"
In truth, it hadn't been long since Russia began allowing reporters to accompany its army.
It started after they learned that the British army had been bringing journalists along and producing nurous articles.
At first, they ignored it—but the effects were beyond expectation.
As reports exposing the realities of war and criticizing Russia poured out, all of Europe began condemning Russia and uniting against it.
Seeing this, the Russian high command also proposed embedding journalists within the army, and Nakhimov had obeyed the Emperor's order without complaint.
Of course, their approach was entirely different from that of the Allied forces.
Russian journalists followed strict reporting guidelines. Their articles were propaganda—praising Russian bravery and depicting the Allied forces as weak and disorganized.
Until now, it had worked. It had helped boost morale.
But if those sa journalists suddenly snapped and began reporting the truth…
"You knew that, and still allowed them in?"
"Admiral… to be frank, this is an opportunity."
"…What? An opportunity?"
"Yes. Under normal circumstances, we should already be negotiating terms of surrender in exchange for our safety. The only reason we haven't surrendered is because of the order from the capital to fight to the end."
"…Don't tell you're planning…"
To waste soldiers in a battle that couldn't be won was, as Gennady said, sothing a commander should never do.
Better defeat than annihilating the army through poor judgnt—it was no different from selling the nation's future.
"If we surrender, we beco traitors for disobeying His Majesty. But if we lose control of the troops due to the journalists' agitation, then it's not a surrender."
"And the failure of control won't be our fault—it'll be blad on those fools up top who sent in the reporters. That's a very clever excuse."
Of course. There was no way these n had suddenly reford because of Gennady's noble sacrifice.
They were simply desperate to end the war before it consud them—a pure, self-serving instinct.
Even so, Admiral Nakhimov couldn't reject them outright.
To be blunt, he had already begun to feel that he'd had enough of this war.
While they bled on the battlefield, nobles in the capital dined on white bread, warm soup, and juicy at.
Fight to the death? Then send your own sons to the front lines first.
"…I will pretend I heard nothing today. I know nothing about what the reporters are thinking, nor about whatever sches you may have. Do as you wish."
"Thank you, Admiral. Naturally, we know nothing either. The orders to deploy reporters ca from above, so we will simply trust them to continue writing favorable articles for our side."
"…Very well. Proceed."
With Nakhimov effectively declaring himself blind and deaf, there was nothing left to restrain them.
"What do you an supplies aren't coming? What kind of bullshit is that?! Are we supposed to just fight here until we die to buy ti?!"
"Isn't this British propaganda? Those bastards lie every ti they open their mouths!"
"Hey! That commander from the Asian front—Gennady—he begged that we not be sent to die and then shot himself in the chest! The officers and journalists all saw it! How is that propaganda?!"
"Shit! Then no reinforcents are coming?! They're planning to let us all die here?!"
Until now, Russian soldiers had firmly believed the announcents:
Even the newspapers delivered by journalists inside the army had been filled with those claims.
But now, all of it was a lie.
And on top of that, they heard that a commander had shot himself after pleading for them to face reality.
Of course their restraint snapped.
Bang!
"I'm done with this bullshit, you sons of bitches!"
"How long are we supposed to keep fighting?!"
"If supplies are so plentiful, then give us so damn at!"
"Do you think we're just expendable cannon fodder, you bastards damned to hell?!"
It was far easier to spill water than to fill it, easier to cut a knot than to untie it.
The soldiers had already been on the verge of boiling over. It only took a single spark.
The officers who remained loyal to the Emperor tried to suppress the chaos—but it only poured oil onto the flas.
The soldiers beat down those officers who tried to execute "rebels" and rose up instead.
"Send us ho!"
"We want to live!"
"Tell us the truth!"
Sensing the unrest within the fortress, the British seized the mont—
but instead of launching a full assault, they fired just two cannon shots.
That alone was enough.
"Ah—! The British are attacking!"
"It's a full assault!"
"Fuck this! I'm not fighting! Why should I die here?! Raise the white flag! Raise it, damn it!"
With the chain of command already collapsing, the re rumor of an all-out attack was enough.
The soldiers defending the fortress threw down their weapons and abandoned the fight.
So units even bound their own officers and raised white flags on their own initiative.
At that point, Admiral Nakhimov had no choice.
"The command will negotiate with the Allied forces to ensure the safe return of our soldiers."
This was not a surrender.
It was an inevitable collapse.
A fortress that had held firm for over a year—
fell apart from within just four days after Gennady's "suicide."
"We will hand over the fortress and disband the army. In return, guarantee the safety of the soldiers."
The proposal—practically unconditional surrender—sent the Allied camp into a frenzy of excitent.
"Of course we accept! We thought this might drag on for another year, but if they're surrendering, what more could we ask for? I'll send a reply imdiately guaranteeing every soldier's safe return. That's acceptable, right?"
"Absolutely. And don't forget to include a statent honoring the Russian soldiers and Admiral Nakhimov for their efforts despite unfavorable conditions."
"Of course. But if we're saying that, shouldn't Your Highness deliver it personally? After all, you're the highest-ranking figure in our forces."
Good grief, look at that grin.
His mouth's practically split to his ears.
I get it—we've taken the fortress far faster than expected. But I'd appreciate it if he didn't look at with such… affection.
A middle-aged man gazing at like that is just uncomfortable.
But FitzRoy seed completely oblivious, staring at with syrupy admiration.
"Capturing Sevastopol is no different from taking Cria itself. We can now occupy Ukraine without resistance—this war is essentially won! We must send this news as quickly as possible!"
Even Admiral Parker, who would normally credit everything to the Royal Navy, simply nodded in agreent.
"We'll transmit the news by telegraph imdiately. Russia's inferior information network will delay the news reaching their capital, but once our forces learn of it, the enemy will naturally catch on as well."
"Excellent idea!"
"When you went to Asia, Your Highness, I wondered whether it was necessary—but to think you would return with the decisive ans to end the war in an instant…"
"I didn't exactly plan it that way."
Gennady, who had staged the suicide, was secretly transported to the rear and swapped with a corpse of similar build without a trace.
Naturally, Russia was inford of his death.
In accordance with his "final wish," a coffin was thrown into the Black Sea before everyone's eyes.
After we guaranteed their safety, Admiral Nakhimov imdiately disard his forces and opened the fortress gates.
And once again, I prepared an event with journalists and photographers:
User Comments
0 comments from readers