January 1908
"Pavel! Get over here! The smoker's almost out of fire!" Yuri shouted as he checked on the beef brisket inside the smoker.
The brisket had been smoking for nearly sixteen hours now, and although its surface had turned completely black, Yuri still wasn't willing to take it out. After nearly three months of practice with the Tsarevich, he knew that appearance alone meant very little. According to what they had discovered, the brisket still needed another hour or two before it would be fully cooked and tender on the inside. So Yuri resisted the temptation to pull it out early and held on.
"Coming!"
Pavel arrived moments later carrying several pieces of carefully selected wood, chosen specifically for the aroma they released when burned.
Yuri frowned slightly as he watched Pavel begin feeding the wood into the smoker. "Where have you been?"
"Maria asked me to help her with something." Pavel paused and looked at Yuri with slightly widened, nervous eyes. "Why? Did the brisket burn?"
"No." Yuri shook his head. "Just don't leave the smoker unattended for so long next time. The fire was nearly out when I got here, and there was barely any smoke left inside."
Pavel immediately let out a sigh of relief. "Oh."
He then resumed loading the wood into the smoker. "Don't worry. I won't leave again. I can handle this. We've already done it four times before."
"This time is different," Yuri replied, his tone unusually serious as he watched Pavel work. "The entire Imperial Family is going to eat our smoked beef and meat."
Pavel instinctively straightened at the mention of the Imperial family and began to carefully put the fire woods inside as if the fire woods themselves were a treasure even if he was just feeding them to the fire.
"We have to make sure everything is perfect," Yuri continued. "Even if the Tsarevich said we passed the taste test during the third attempt."
After all, practicing a recipe and serving it to the Imperial Family were two entirely different things. This time, they were not cooking for themselves, their coworkers, or even the Tsarevich alone. They were cooking for the Tsar, the Tsarina, and their children.
That thought alone was enough to make Yuri slightly nervous.
To be completely honest, he still did not fully understand why the Tsarevich had insisted on making this strange foreign dish the centerpiece of today's luncheon. Even after weeks of practice and countless tastings, he still could not quite grasp what made it so special. The Tsarevich had declared that they had achieved the correct flavor during their third successful attempt, but Yuri himself remained unconvinced.
The brisket was tender, certainly. The smoky aroma was pleasant enough. Yet compared to the roasted meats and traditional dishes he had grown up eating, it still felt unusual and foreign to him.
That uncertainty was precisely what worried him.
If even he, the head chef who had spent weeks perfecting the dish, could not fully appreciate it, then what would the Tsar and Tsarina think when they tasted it for the first time?
Still, the Tsarevich had managed to convince him to make it the main dish for today's luncheon, and Yuri intended to see the task through to the end.
Once Pavel finished loading the wood and closed the smoker door, Yuri gave a satisfied nod. "Good."
Then he pointed around the makeshift smoking shed they had hastily constructed specifically for the special barbecue the Tsarevich had spent weeks teaching them to make. "Don't leave this spot. I'll be back in an hour. By then, we'll take out the briskets and start loading the beef ribs, pork ribs, and sausages."
"Got it?"
Pavel nodded immediately, his expression becoming serious once more. "I understand."
Yuri let out a slow breath. "Then I'll be in the kitchen. Call me if anything happens."
After receiving another nod from Pavel, Yuri finally left the smoking area and headed back toward the palace kitchens to make sure all the side dishes were prepared and ready for service.
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"Ladies, please form a proper line. I believe we have prepared enough food for everyone in the palace, so there is no need to worry about there being none left," Alexei said as he gestured for his sisters to line up in front of him on the opposite side of the chopping board.
This time, he was wearing an apron over his clothes, as he had insisted on personally slicing the brisket and other smoked meats himself.
Much to his mother's dismay.
Alexandra had repeatedly argued with him over the matter, but he had won nonetheless. A combination of shameless persistence, a carefully crafted display of disappointment, and the enthusiastic support of his sisters had ultimately worn down the Empress's resistance. The girls, after all, had been eagerly waiting to see the knife skills Alexei had been boasting about.
Now they stood in front of him with barely concealed excitement, watching him prepare the food as though they were about to witness a grand performance rather than a simple meal.
"Brother! Show us!" Tatiana called out excitedly.
"Yes! Show us!" Maria echoed her sister.
While Olga tried to appear more reserved with their father and mother watching, she could not hide the anticipation in her eyes.
"Now, now. Let's begin," Alexei said with a smile, indulging his sisters.
He signaled to Yuri, who was waiting beside him. The chef immediately lifted the large lid, revealing the brisket inside. After hours of smoking, the meat had turned completely black on the outside.
His sisters fell silent. They stared at the brisket, unable to understand why the food looked so plain and burnt.
Seeing their confusion, Alexei chuckled. Without warning, he began performing a series of knife tricks he was good at, instantly drawing their attention away from the brisket.
"Wow..." Maria's mouth fell open as she watched the knives flash through the air in front of her brother.
Tatiana clapped excitedly when Alexei caught them with ease. "Yes!"
Olga quickly joined in, applauding just as enthusiastically.
"Careful, Alexei!" Alexandra called out from where she stood not far behind her daughters. One hand flew to her chest as her heart nearly stopped at the sight of her son casually tossing sharp knives through the air.
Alexei pretended not to hear her and continued entertaining his sisters.
Seeing that her son had no intention of stopping his dangerous display, Alexandra turned toward her husband, who was standing beside her and seemed just as captivated by the performance as their daughters.
"Nicholas!"
Nicholas snapped out of his fascination and turned toward her with a questioning expression. "What is it, my dear?"
"Tell your son to stop doing that. It's dangerous," Alexandra said, sounding noticeably more irritated now.
Nicholas looked at her, then at his son, who was still performing his knife tricks, and finally at his daughters, who were watching their brother with delighted expressions.
Only then did he turn back to his wife.
"The children are happy, my dear," he said gently. "Let's not stop something that is making them happy, alright? Besides, it seems Alexei knows exactly what he's doing. He's being careful not to get anywhere near his sisters."
He gestured toward their son, and when Alexandra reluctantly looked over, he continued.
"Don't worry. We have doctors nearby. If something does happen, they'll be able to attend to them immediately."
Having finished his argument, Nicholas joined his daughters in applauding the performance.
A moment later, Alexandra reluctantly found herself doing the same.
She stared at her husband as though she could hardly believe what she had just heard. In the end, all she could do was let out an indignant huff before turning her attention back to her son.
Silently, she prayed that no accidents would occur. As she watched Alexei continue his performance, however, another question surfaced in her mind. Where in the world had her son learned these tricks?
After exhausting the less dangerous knife tricks he knew, Alexei finally began slicing the brisket. Even then, he continued to entertain his audience, turning the simple act of carving meat into a performance by making each cut smooth, precise, and almost theatrical.
He knew the smoked brisket was not particularly impressive to look at. In fact, compared to the lavish dishes usually served at the palace, its dark exterior made it appear rather plain. As a result, he felt compelled to make the presentation itself as entertaining as possible to keep his sisters interested.
Truthfully, he had no idea whether they would enjoy the taste. The pizza had been a success, but this was something entirely different. He had decided to make this food because he missed the taste so much and not really thinking if they'll like this or not. Still, he had done his best.
Once he finished slicing the brisket, he picked up a plate from beside him and carefully arranged several slices upon it before handing it to Tatiana, who stood first in line. Maria received hers next, followed by Olga and then his parents.
Only after everyone else had been served did Alexei prepare a plate for himself.
With that done, he removed his apron and joined his family at the table.
As everyone began tasting the food, Alexei looked around at their faces and asked, "So? How is it?"
He already had a rough idea of the answer the moment he saw his sister's expressions. The dish was clearly not something they were accustomed to. Then again, he had never expected smoked brisket to appeal to everyone immediately.
His gaze settled on his father and mother.
Nicholas caught his eye and gave him a small wink before offering his verdict.
"This is good," he said after swallowing his first bite. "The inside practically melts in my mouth. You said this was smoked for hours?"
Alexei nodded. "Yes. More than fifteen hours."
"Hm." Nicholas took another bite and considered it for a moment. "Let's have this once in a while. Though perhaps you can add more flavors next time. At the moment, all I can really taste are salt and pepper."
"Yuri is already working on that," Alexei replied. "This is only the first version."
He then took his own first bite. Unlike everyone else at the table, he did not bother with a fork or knife and simply ate with his hands. That immediately earned him a disapproving glare from his mother.
Alexei pretended not to notice.
After savoring the bite, he added, "There are still pork ribs and sausages waiting to be served, so please don't fill yourselves up on the brisket alone."
Nicholas laughed. "Oh? Then we'll definitely have to try everything."
He turned toward his wife. "Right, dear?"
Alexandra nodded after taking another bite of the brisket.
"It is quite good," she admitted.
Though inwardly, she was already planning the lecture she intended to give her son later regarding the dangerous tricks he had done earlier.
Alexei smiled slightly and returned his attention to the meal.
Not long afterward, the servants began bringing out the next dishes. This time, however, he let Yuri handle the slicing himself, much to his sisters' disappointment. To be fair, Alexei was disappointed in himself as well. None of his sisters seemed particularly fond of the smoked brisket. Still, he was already thinking about what dish he could introduce next that might appeal to everyone.
Despite their lack of enthusiasm for the smoked beef, and much to Alexei's chagrin, the pork ribs and sausages as well. At the very least, his sisters had tried everything.
The meal continued in good spirits after that. Conversation flowed freely around the table from time to time, and before long, the luncheon came to an end. It had not gone quite the way Alexei had hoped, but it had gone well enough.
He was just about to retire to his room for a bit of rest when a servant approached and quietly whispered something into Sednev's ear.
After nodding to the servant, Sednev stepped closer and informed him, "Mr. Yurovsky is waiting for you in your office, Your Highness. Would you like me to send him away for today and ask him to return tomorrow instead?"
Hearing that, Alexei immediately changed his mind to rest and replied. "No. I'll meet him today. Please lead the way."
He was quite curious to learn how his businesses had performed last year and how Mr. Yurovsky's travels in the East had gone.
Seeing his decision, Sednev nodded and immediately led the way toward the Tsarevich's office.
It did not take long for Alexei to reach his office. As they approached, he immediately noticed Yurovsky seated on a chair just outside, patiently waiting.
The man rose from his seat the moment he saw the Tsarevich arrive.
"Your Highness," Yurovsky greeted with a respectful bow.
Alexei smiled slightly and nodded in return. "Mr. Yurovsky. It's good to see you again."
Yurovsky smiled back and replied, "It's good to see you as well, Your Highness. And a Happy New Year to you."
After taking note of his publisher's slightly haggard appearance, Alexei gestured toward the door. "Come. We can talk inside."
Without wasting any more time, he walked past him and entered his office. Yurovsky followed closely behind, while Sednev remained outside and closed the door after them.
The office was warm and quiet compared to the bustling palace beyond its walls. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, driving away the winter chill that lingered throughout the corridors.
Alexei made his way behind his desk and sat down. "Please, have a seat."
"Thank you, Your Highness." Yurovsky lowered himself into the chair opposite the desk. As he did, his eyes cautiously swept around the office.
Noticing this, Alexei chuckled lightly. "Relax. My wolves are outside playing in the snow."
Yurovsky visibly relaxed upon hearing that and cleared his throat. "Shall we begin, Your Highness?"
"Of course," Alexei replied as he shifted slightly in his chair to make himself more comfortable.
Yurovsky immediately opened his bag and began removing document after document. Before long, the bag was completely empty, and several thick folders were spread across the desk between them. After setting the bag aside, he carefully organized the documents into neat piles before selecting one of the folders and handing it to the Tsarevich.
"We should begin with our profits from last year, Your Highness," Yurovsky said. "Our accountants finished tallying the figures earlier than expected. They gained a great deal of experience from last year's work and have improved considerably since then."
Alexei accepted the folder and opened it.
"Tell me the final number first," Alexei said without looking up from the report. "You know I prefer hearing the good news before the details."
Yurovsky couldn't help but smile. "Of course, Your Highness."
He adjusted his glasses before opening another folder.
"After accounting for all operating expenses, employee salaries, transportation costs, printing expenses, and taxes, our total profit for the year exceeded our projections by a considerable margin."
Seeing that the Tsarevich merely nodded while reviewing the papers, he continued. "The total profit for last year amounted to one hundred seventy-three thousand rubles. That is more than three times the total profit from the previous year. A large part of this increase was due to the fact that we did not undertake any major expansions this year. Of course, this is also thanks to your excellent storytelling, Your Highness. Your pen name has gained many loyal readers, and we continue to receive a great number of letters addressed to you."
That finally got a reaction out of Alexei. He looked up from the documents and asked, "Is that the total profit from all the factories as well as the publishing house?"
Yurovsky nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."
He glanced down at his notes before continuing. "Approximately seventy-seven percent of our total profits came from the publishing house, while the remaining twenty-three percent came from our factories."
He paused for a moment. "Would you like me to elaborate on the profits from each country, Your Highness?"
Alexei shook his head and set the document aside. "No. I can read through the details myself later."
He shifted slightly in his chair before continuing. "Tell me about our operations last year. Did we encounter any difficulties?"
"Not at all, Your Highness," Yurovsky replied with a shake of his head. "Our businesses operated smoothly throughout the year. Everything remained in order, even during my absence while I was inspecting the markets in the East. Neither the publishing house nor the factories encountered any significant problems."
"That's good to hear," Alexei replied with a satisfied nod.
Even though the profits were still rather modest in his opinion, the steady growth was encouraging, especially since he had deliberately slowed expansion in favor of consolidating what they already had and waiting for the results of Yurovsky's inspection of the eastern markets.
"Speaking of your travels in the East," he said, leaning forward slightly, "how did they go?"
Yurovsky set his notes down before replying.
"It was..." He paused for a moment. "It was not as good as I had hoped, Your Highness. The travel time alone was exhausting. Reaching the countries in the East took far longer than I expected. I had to change trains multiple times and undertake several sea voyages whenever the railways could no longer carry me farther..."
Alexei listened patiently as Yurovsky continued describing the hardships of his journey. After a while, however, he felt he had heard enough. Clearing his throat, he interrupted gently. "Ahem..."
Then he smiled slightly at his publisher. "I am sorry for what you had to go through, Yurovsky. And I am genuinely glad that you returned safe and sound, as always. I truly am."
He paused briefly before continuing. "But can we move on to the part concerning your feasibility study? Specifically, whether it would be practical to establish distributors there and translate our works into their local languages?"
Yurovsky immediately adjusted his glasses, partly to hide his embarrassment. In his enthusiasm, he had forgotten the actual purpose of the discussion and had instead begun rambling about the difficulties of his travels.
"My apologies, Your Highness," he said. "I got carried away."
Alexei waved a hand dismissively. "It's alright. I understand the hardships you've been through."
He then gestured for him to continue.
Yurovsky picked up his notes once more. After flipping through several pages and locating the correct section, he straightened in his chair and began his report.
"In my opinion, Your Highness, only a handful of eastern countries can become profitable markets for our books in the near future. Most of the regions I visited are still colonies of the European powers, and because of that, literacy rates remain relatively low compared to Europe. The number of people who can both read and afford to purchase books is still limited."
He glanced up from his notes and, seeing that the Tsarevich was listening intently, continued.
"However, there are exceptions. Japan, in particular, caught my attention. Since the war, the country has continued to modernize rapidly. Literacy rates are increasing, newspapers are widespread, and there appears to be a growing appetite for literature among both the educated classes and the emerging middle class."
Alexei silently nodded. That was more or less what he had expected.
"What about Qing China?" he asked.
Yurovsky hesitated slightly before answering.
"Qing China is... complicated, Your Highness. The population is enormous, and the potential market is unlike anything else in the world. However, the country remains politically unstable, and distribution would be difficult. Infrastructure is poor in many regions, and finding reliable partners would require considerable effort."
He turned another page. "Still, if we are willing to be patient, Qing China may eventually become our most valuable market in the East."
Alexei decided then that entering the Qing market immediately would be unwise until the end of world war two. The potential profits were enormous, but so were the risks. Better to wait until the war and revolutions that were about to happen ended.
Then another thought crossed his mind. Wait. Why was he already thinking about events decades into the future when World war one had not even begun yet? He did not even know whether the future would unfold as he remembered it, or if the Russian Empire would still exist by then.
Shaking the thought from his mind, he focused on Yurovsky's report once more.
"British India possesses a large population as well," Yurovsky continued. "But literacy rates remain relatively low outside the educated classes. Furthermore, English-language publications already dominate much of the market. Entering it would be possible, but success would require translations into several local languages and cooperation with local distributors."
He paused before adding, "Frankly speaking, Your Highness, the cost of translating our works into multiple Indian languages alone would be substantial. So I suggest we only cater to the English readers at the moment."
Alexei nodded. That was another issue he had anticipated. "What about Southeast Asia?"
Yurovsky consulted his notes again. "The situation there is similar. Most of the region remains under colonial administration. Literacy rates vary greatly depending on the territory. Some ports and cities possess a growing educated class, but the overall market remains small compared to Europe."
He looked up from his papers. "If we were to prioritize, I would recommend Japan first, China second, and India third. The rest can wait until our operations become larger. During my travels, I met several merchants and publishing contacts who expressed interest in foreign literature. They would be willing to discuss distribution agreements if we choose to proceed."
Alexei leaned back slightly in his chair. "Let me think about it first. I'll tell you my decision later."
Yurovsky nodded. "No problem, Your Highness."
"Is there anything else you'd like to report, Yurovsky?" Alexei asked.
Yurovsky checked his notes before replying. "I believe that's everything, Your Highness."
Alexei thought for a moment before opening a drawer in his desk and pulling out a document. He slid it across the table.
Yurovsky picked it up and looked at it curiously. "What is this, Your Highness?"
"An invitation to the automobile show that will be held this spring," Alexei replied with a slight smile. "And I want you to attend."
The moment he mentioned the motor show, Yurovsky looked puzzled.
"Who knows?" Alexei continued. "Perhaps we'll expand into automobile manufacturing one day. It's better to experience an automobile exhibition now than try to understand the industry later without any prior knowledge."
Yurovsky's eyes widened. "Truly, Your Highness? But I'm only a publisher."
Alexei laughed. "You already oversee several of our factories in addition to the publishing house, Yurovsky. You are no longer just a publisher."
He leaned forward slightly. "Besides, even if we eventually enter automobile manufacturing, you would only be responsible for the business side of things. Don't concern yourself with the engineering. I'll find people to handle the manufacturing itself."
For a few moments, Yurovsky sat speechless. He wasn't quite sure whether he should be pleased by the growing trust his employer placed in him or terrified by the ever-expanding list of responsibilities.
Eventually, he gathered himself and nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."
"Don't worry," Alexei said with a chuckle. "You still have plenty of time to learn about the automobile industry, and I'm still looking for the right engineers and mechanics myself. Breathe, Yurovsky. We aren't in a hurry."
Yurovsky finally let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Thank you, Your Highness."
With that matter settled, Alexei moved on to the next topic.
"So..." he said, folding his hands atop the desk. "Let's talk about the bonus you're due this year. How much do you think you'll receive?"
The moment he heard those words, Yurovsky struggled to suppress the grin threatening to split his face in two.