The Mikhail Volkov, the flagship of the Imperial Russian Air Service, was a marvel of aeronautical engineering. A vast, silent airship that could circumnavigate the globe in under a week, it was a flying symbol of the Regent's power. Aboard, Tsarevich Alexei reviewed the mission briefing for the tenth time. His delegation was the best Russia had to offer: the nation's top physicists, chief engineers from the Volkovo works, seasoned diplomats, and a quiet, watchful security detail commanded by one of Captain Orlov's most trusted deputies. Their mission: to understand, and if possible, acquire the future.
Their arrival in Bangkok was a study in contrasts. The city was a tapestry of ancient golden temples and bustling river markets, but woven into this traditional fabric were pockets of almost alien modernity. Sleek, silent electric vehicles, different from the Russian models, zipped through the streets. The streetlights glowed with a brighter, purer light. It was clear that the influence of the reclusive industrialist behind the new energy source was profound.
Alexei's delegation was met not by the industrialist himself, but by a woman who introduced herself as Miss Sirikit. She was a Thai woman in her thirties, dressed in elegant Western style, who spoke flawless, unaccented Russian. Her smile was welcoming, but her eyes were as sharp and analytical as his own.
"His Highness, the Tsarevich, does us a great honor," she said, bowing gracefully. "My employer is pleased to welcome you. He hopes we can begin a productive dialogue."
The first meeting took place in a minimalist, modern building that felt more like a university than a corporate headquarters. There were no portraits of kings or generals on the walls, only complex scientific diagrams and star charts.
Alexei, following the strategy he had proposed, laid out his father's offer. It was overwhelmingly generous. He spoke of a full partnership, of Russia's limitless industrial capacity to develop the new energy source, of a joint venture that would bring unprecedented prosperity to Siam and further stabilize the world under the Russo-Imperial framework.
Sirikit's reply was impeccably polite. "We appreciate the scale of what the Lord Regent is offering, Your Highness. It speaks to a worldview of remarkable order and control." She let the compliment hang in the air for a moment before continuing in the same calm, even tone. "Unfortunately, it is a worldview we do not share. Therefore, we must decline."
The word decline landed in the silent room with the weight of a physical object. Alexei felt a jolt of disbelief, as if he had fundamentally miscalculated a simple equation. He saw his top physicist subtly shake his head, as if clearing it. Even the stoic security chief seemed taken aback.
"Decline?" Alexei repeated, the single word sounding inadequate. He struggled to reconcile the immense, generous offer he had made with the serene, almost casual rejection. "Miss Sirikit, we are offering you the resources of the most powerful empire on Earth. We can achieve in five years what might take you fifty years to do alone."
"That is precisely the point, Your Highness," she replied, her smile never wavering. "My employer does not wish to achieve his goals in five years. The goal is not the destination; it is the process. My employer believes that true progress does not come from a single, powerful authority dictating the future from the top down."
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto Alexei's. "He believes true progress comes from placing power directly into the hands of every individual and allowing them to create their own future, a million different futures, all at once. The energy source we have developed is not meant to power a new global empire. It is meant to make empires obsolete."
Alexei felt a profound chill, a sense of vertigo as the foundation of his entire worldview shifted. This was not a negotiation with a rival corporation or a foreign state. This was a philosophical schism.
"Who is your employer?" Alexei asked, his voice low.
Sirikit's smile finally held a hint of something more—amusement, perhaps even pity. "He is a man much like your father, in his own way. A man with a deep understanding of history. He simply… read a few more chapters in the book."
The implication was as clear and as devastating as a cannon shot.
"He is not from this time," Alexei stated, the words feeling heavy and strange in his mouth.
"His perspective is certainly… advanced," Sirikit conceded. "He comes from a future where the great, centralized empires of the 20th century, even the most successful ones, eventually collapsed under their own weight. He believes the only stable system is no system at all. His goal is not to build a better cage, however gilded. It is to give every man and woman the key to their own."
Alexei had come to Siam prepared to deal with a new player in his father's game. He now understood he was facing an opponent who was not even playing on the same board. This was not a competitor. This was an ideologue, a prophet of a future so different from the one Mikhail had built that the two could not coexist.
That night, from the secure Russian embassy, Alexei sent a single, heavily encrypted message to his father in St. Petersburg. It contained no technical data, no summary of the negotiation. It contained only five, chilling words.
"Father, he is here, too."