In Type-Moon, people create a magic family lineage

You left the Kremlin.

The mysterious foundation has been laid, the edifice of the empire has collapsed, and a new era has arrived. In this era, everything that belonged to the Tsar has been turned over. No one will be able to commit evil deeds in the name of the Tsar, nor will anyone be able to make a comeback based on this. The past has become history, a past that has no impact on the future in people's eyes.

This is achieved through a conceptual break with mystery.

The mystery of the past remains, but it is now history.

You also need to fulfill your promise to Nicholas II.

Go and do the final finishing touches for him.

His family, his homeland

After you left the court, the Tsarist Empire resumed its original time flow. Vivian Barthemello and the others quickly left the Tsarist Empire and this enemy territory. But before leaving, Vivian gritted her teeth and spoke. This defeat was a disgrace to her, not only a personal disgrace, but also a disgrace to her family.

[What Vivian didn't know was that, though far apart, you could still hear her gnashing teeth—you, who had created yourself as a 'god,' were still weak and could not compare to a true god, but you had already acquired the characteristics of a god.]

Every word spoken will be known.

But you don't seem to care.

Although you left the Kremlin, you did not immediately leave Moscow. You stood outside the palace, watching the Mensheviks rise again and occupy the Kremlin. They attempted to make Moscow the capital of their newly established regime, but the fruits of the revolution were ultimately stolen by the bourgeoisie—the large landowners and merchants—who remained on the sidelines. You also watched as the Bolsheviks freed countless poor people from their shackles. You stood on the streets of Moscow, like an ordinary passerby, while the revolutionaries, striding about, passed by you, seemingly oblivious.

You happen to brush past Vladimir on the street.

The bustling streets of Moscow were in utter chaos. Since the collapse of the Tsarist government, this vast country had inevitably fallen into a brief period of turmoil. The Provisional Government actively seized power in various regions, allowing the bourgeoisie to profit, while the Bolsheviks were committed to rescuing the civilians in various regions. They united with the Menshevik Party, which had failed in its power grab, and abandoned the ideological struggle for the time being. With the Tsar no longer their common enemy, the contradictions between them and the Provisional Government were inevitable.

Vladimir was deeply concerned about this during this period. He did not want the Tsarist Empire to be mired in a civil war, but judging from the current situation, it seemed that it was unavoidable.

He walked hurriedly through the street, the gloomy sky mirroring his inner state.

But the next second, Vladimir suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He glanced back at me.

He looked at the back of the young priest who had just passed him and was walking in the opposite direction.

He paused, feeling a strange sense of familiarity.

But for a moment I couldn't remember who it was.

"Mentor?" Someone called out to Vladimir, who was lost in thought. "What's wrong? Do you know that person?"

He snapped out of his daze, and the mustache at the corner of his mouth twitched.

He shook his head.

“I don’t know him,” Vladimir said, but the next second, he smiled. “However, I know what to do.”

"Let's go, we need to make a decision—even if it means shedding blood, there's nothing to hesitate about!"

So-called reform is not a dinner party.

It's unrealistic to expect to avoid bleeding.

Vladimir had always been clear about this, and at this moment, he made up his mind.

Is that you?

He glanced behind him again; the figure had already disappeared into the street, but he chuckled softly.

Cleared away my last confusion...

—My mentor.

The mentor's mentor.

In October 1917, another upheaval occurred within the Tsarist regime. The Provisional Government, which had briefly seized power, was completely overthrown by the Bolsheviks-led Workers' Party, marking the first time a political party leading the masses had stepped onto the historical stage.

[You, who gave Vladimir his last shred of unwavering faith, stand atop Moscow's tallest bell tower, watching the flag slowly rise.]

【it's beautiful】

What you think

You've been in Moscow for a full ten months.

It's time

You want to again?

It's time to meet Nicholas II's family.

Go see the girl who has been waiting for you.

...

An unnamed mentor, a demon known to all.

In the Tsarist Empire of that era, two completely opposite entities appeared at once, as if they were angels and demons.

The mentor leads the masses toward freedom; he is the mentor's mentor, the sage of knowledge recorded in the mentor's diary.

Demons seized control of the palace, drawing a scarlet curtain over the fading empire.

Some people have said that they might be the same person.

someone said,

That's an angel.

He is also a demon.

—Longman Pointer: The Russian Empire 1689-1917

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Princess from the Common People

"Sister Anna, thank you so much."

"Your medical skills are truly superb!"

"Thank you so much..."

Voices of gratitude rang out from the crowd.

On the streets of St. Petersburg, the setting sun casts a crimson glow, bathing the city, the former capital of the Tsarist Empire, in its golden light.

The girl, dressed in a heavy black and white nun's habit that perfectly concealed her figure and appearance, and whose silhouette was only vaguely recognizable as a girl, smiled and shook her head at the people who were thanking her.

She felt it was just a small favor, nothing special, but those people couldn't stop expressing their gratitude, their eyes filled with respect and even more so with awe.

In their eyes, this girl who never showed her true face was like a saint—

With a wave of her hand, without any physical contact, and with just a few words, she could cure the ailments that plagued these commoners for a lifetime, just like a saintly woman who only existed in legends.

During this process, the girl's light blue eyes, half-hidden under the brim of her hood, narrowed slightly, as if she were naturally feeling a sense of joy.

Helping others brings such peace of mind.

she thought.

Although she was very tired, she really enjoyed the feeling... Only after she had seen off the last person did the girl slowly get up, clutching the first-aid kit.

As the setting sun grew increasingly dim, the city's twilight shadows became mottled and unsteady. The young girl gently stretched her delicate body and then gathered a strand of snow-white, glistening hair that had fallen across her forehead.

She glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, before gently raising her hand.

As if appearing out of thin air, a tiny shadow materialized in her palm, like a snow sprite from the Tsarist Empire woven from straw, swaying and chirping.

Seeing the little elf's cheerful and lively appearance, the girl couldn't help but smile.

"Still as lively as ever... Miss Elf."

Although spirits created from nature have no self-awareness and only instincts, and therefore cannot be distinguished by gender, the girl felt that it should be female... just like herself.

Holding the elf, she suddenly sighed: "If I think about it carefully, almost a year has passed."

The girl glanced back, and her shadow was stretched long by the setting sun, as if it were merging with the distant palace complex.

She knew perfectly well what those palaces were.

That was the Tsar's palace in St. Petersburg.

It was their former residence—

But now, it has nothing to do with them anymore.

Anastasia thought to herself.

St. Petersburg was the true capital of the Tsarist Empire from 1712 until the eve of the overthrow of the Tsarist regime. Its status remained unchanged. Even in the later years of Nicholas II, when the royal family settled in the Imperial Palace and Kremlin in Moscow due to Lucan, and many ministers went to Moscow as well, St. Petersburg remained prosperous and its status was not shaken.

Of course, it is still a bustling city. Located by the Baltic Sea and with a geographical advantage, it will never be neglected no matter how times change, but it is no longer the capital.

The current capital is Moscow.

The capital of this country, now ruled by the Bolsheviks and without an emperor, was where the change first began.

Only a year has passed, yet the world has changed so much.

Even though only a year had passed, Anastasia felt an overwhelming longing for that man.

But she let out a soft breath and suppressed her longing.

Your Majesty must still be busy right now, right?

Although I can't be of any help to Your Majesty.

But I also need to be strong!

The girl in the nun's habit put away the spirits of wind and snow and walked down the street carrying a first-aid kit.

Her steps were light, her robes swaying. People passed by her, but they all ignored her in the midst of the bustling crowd. She didn't look at anyone else either, but walked towards an ordinary house in the city of St. Petersburg.

That was the residence of her and her current family, no longer the residence of the queen and princesses.

They arrived in St. Petersburg at the end of last year, on the eve of the collapse of the empire. They came to the true capital of the Tsarist country according to the plan set by Luca and Nicholas II, but instead of living in the palace, they lived in the streets like ordinary people.

—Besides them, the even younger Alexei was sent to live in a foreign land at a young age.

As a prince, Alexei was clearly different from the princess; only by leaving the country could he completely sever ties.

At first, the princesses were naturally quite unaccustomed to it, unaccustomed to not having servants to attend to them, and unaccustomed to not having a retinue of attendants.

But soon, they gradually felt at ease.

With the news of Nicholas II's death,

No longer the queen, Alexandra did not cry, but silently took on the responsibilities of the head of the household.

The three pampered princesses were no longer dissatisfied.

Yes, the third princess—as the fourth princess of the empire, Anastasia has always shown exceptional strength. She was the first to adapt to civilian life and the first to step into ordinary streets and alleys, even before news of her father's death arrived. She realized that she could not hold Her Majesty back.

During that year, she learned extraordinary medical skills with the help of the elves, and she saw many impoverished places in the world through the eyes of the elves.

The world is not as beautiful as romantic stories portray it.

It has ugly aspects.

It is a place of many, many sufferings.

But Anastasia was not annoyed, because she knew that His Majesty had come out from here, and she had protected herself well and stepped into it naturally.

She was no longer a princess.

Even if someone were to see her true appearance beneath her nun's robes, no one would believe she was once a princess of the empire.

This is a miracle belonging to His Majesty.

Anastasia accepted it calmly.

"If Your Majesty saw me like this, you would be quite surprised, wouldn't you?"

As the girl crossed the street corner, she couldn't help but think that she had grown a lot and she was also eager to see His Majesty again.

She misses him very much.

Every night, I would write letters by lamplight because I missed him, but I would put them away after I finished writing them because I didn't want to disturb him.

But she still missed him.

Every day, every night, every moment...

"Well?"

Lost in thought, the princess continued walking until she suddenly bumped into a warm embrace. She froze, realizing that even in her reverie, protected by the elves, she shouldn't have bumped into anyone.