Chapter Thirty-Six (Patreon)

Like the city’s cathedral, Mukden Palace was far from finished. The entire compound, six desyatina in space, was under construction. Even the red walls that separated the compound from the rest of the city were being rebuilt. Alberto’s plans had called for an entirely new marble-faced wall, an idea that he quickly discarded upon learning of the local connotations of the color. Marble may be seen as the most luxurious of stones in Europe, but in the East it seemed the color was as much associated with mourning as purity. Acceptable for a church, hardly adequate for a palace. Instead Alberto left the wall largely as it was. There was a new coat of paint, a darker, more vibrant crimson that served as a symbol of the new regime’s vitality and power (and doubled as a traditional European royal color). The top of the wall was refurbished, the fading gold-dust bricks replaced by ones of bright Imperial yellow and the dragon motifs restored to their original grandeur.

The walls were not the only part of Alberto’s plans that changed. With the discovering of jade deposits in the Tsarevich’s lands came great opportunity. To the Chinese jade was a gem above all others. Even in the West it was a highly prized stone with jade objects d’arte valued above those of solid gold. With the deposits containing at least a hundred tons of the precious material there were few limits to Alberto’s new dream: the Jade Gate. Where the walls stopped to allow for the Daqing Gate the current stone sculptures of lions would be replaced by ones of jade. The Daqing Gate itself would be fully rebuilt, not merely refurbished and modernized as he had originally intended. The new gatehouse would have decorative pillars made of jade, depicting battlefield victories. The entrance itself would have a jade mantle depicting the Qing Imperial Dragons bowing before the Eagle of Russia in high relief. It would be expensive of course–not least in finding and hiring the skilled Chinese jade-carvers who were willing to work for Russia–but Alberto had a rather large budget. He had padded it originally, thinking that if one were to make a building of eight or ten million rubles, it was better to be two million under budget than two million over.

“Master Cavos.”

Alberto turned from his musings. “Yes Nikan?”

His secretary bowed slightly. “His Imperial Highness, the Tsarevich of Russia, approaches. His riders carry the yellow banner.”

How fortuitous that the Tsar should carry a yellow banner as well, Alberto reflected. Even their black eagle was in keeping with the local traditions. When dressed in his military uniform the Tsarevich looked every inch deserving of a title traditionally bestowed upon a local deity; the Black Warrior of the North.

“Let us meet him then.”

His secretary’s eyes widened. Like many of those in the local administration he was a native who had passed the Qing examinations, only to be rejected for a lack of jobs. Left alone by the purge of the nobility and bureaucrats and now appointed to the jobs they once hungered for, they consisted of a class fiercely loyal to (and utterly dependent upon) the Russian Empire.

Needless to say, such a man had never considered that he might meet–and even speak to–an Imperial heir.

It took a few minutes for Alberto to arrive at the future sight of the Jade Gate. Already in courtly attire–a simple black suit and silk-brocade vest–Alberto had no need to ready himself. Neither did Nikan, though the poor man’s nerves clearly told him otherwise.

The Tsarevich came riding into the courtyard the very image of Imperial power. His horse was a golden Turkoman, no less than sixteen hands in height. From that position towered the Tsarevich, his own height combining with the horse’s to lend the appearance of an ancient giant. His face was clean-shave save for a thick and well-groomed mustache. His hair was close-cropped in military style, his dress a plain battle uniform rather than an ornate display of golden epaulettes and pinned medals. Around him rode half a hundred cavalry men. These were not the lancers and riders of old, painfully outdated by modernity. Thought they still carried sabers upon their hips these were accompanied by short rifles–carbines, Alberto believed they were called–and looked to every corner of the world searching for a threat to their charge.

The Tsarevich slid from his saddle with a natural grace, his heeled boots landing upon the brick-covered square with a soft thud. Alberto bowed before him. Nikan seemed ready to kowtow, but fortunately recalled the new proprieties enough for a deep bow that was merely excessive rather than embarrassing.

“Rise.” Though his words were not loud they carried a great weight. Instinctively Alberto obeyed, rising and meeting the Tsarevich’s eyes. “I do not recall the plans for this gate being so total,” the Tsarevich said. His eyes met Alberto’s, and the architect felt his soul being searched by tools of ice.

“It is a change, your Imperial Highness,” Alberto managed. “The discovery of the jades opened new possibilities.”

“And you made this change without me?”

Oh God, Alberto thought. His heart raced. He sprinted to and fro within his mind, desperately searching for an excuse. He did not want to make an enemy of the Tsarevich, not after what happened to his predecessor on the project. “I thought it beneath your notice, your Imperial Highness. You have my most fulsome apology for the lack of communication.”

The Tsarevich did not move. His face remained flat. His eyes remained locked on Alberto’s. Then his mouth opened.

“A mistake,” the Tsarevich said, and Alberto’s heart fell to his feet. “Do not make it again.”

Alberto shuddered with relief. He was not doomed. He could continue the project, hopefully with a great deal more wisdom. “Your Imperial Highness is most generous,” Alberto said. “I will not waste your mercy.”

The Tsarevich said nothing, letting the statement hang in the air. “What other changes have been made?”

“Only a few,” Alberto said quickly. “The walls will not be marble-faced, as white is widely considered a color of morning in local traditions. Red–specifically the crimson you currently see–is representative of nobility, luck, and vitality. There are some minor changes with regards to the theater’s facade, and the planned marble columns of the new great hall have been replaced with rosewood.”

“I see.” The Tsarevich’s eyes left Alberto’s and moved to observe the worksite. Alberto felt as Hercules after tricking Atlas. “You will keep me informed of any future changes.”

“Yes, your Imperial Highness.”

“How long do you predict the construction will take?”

“I cannot fully predict, your Imperial Highness. Due to the decorative nature of the buildings much depends upon the number of willing craftsmen my agents can find. At most, I would predict a decade for the buildings, perhaps longer for the interior.”

“No small amount of time.”

“It is a grand project, your Imperial Highness. Versailles took five decades to build, though it was considerably larger. The greatest delay is caused not by the actual construction, but by the acquiring of the materials and their proper decoration. There are only a few great artists of jade, and fewer still have proven willing to leave their customers among the Qing aristocracy regardless of the promised monies.”

“You would advise patience?”

“I do not see an alternative,” Alberto said honestly.

The Tsarevich looked at him, then nodded. “Unfortunate,” he said, “but acceptable. You may continue your work, I desire to speak with the laborers.”

Alberto blinked in surprise, but bowed nonetheless. As the Tsarevich walked towards the worksite, accompanied by a handful of his guards, Alberto felt Nikan lean into his ear.

“Are royals always so terrifying?” Nikan whispered.

“That one is.”