"Good morning, your Excellency," said the ex-Sultan.
The heavy door to the Tsar's office closed behind him with a resounding thud.
"I thought I'd give you one more report before I return to my people," he said.
The Tsar studied a table-map of Europe with a rare somber expression. There were no more civilized worlds to conquer.
"You must go where you will be of most use, of course," agreed the Teal Tsar. "Get on with it."
Governor Jeroth smiled and approached the Tsar with a bundle of papers. Once he crossed an unmarked threshold, the Moscow guards drew their weapons.
Jeroth stopped dead in his tracks. The Tsar chuckled and casually waved them away. The guards drew back, and Jeroth carefully placed the papers in front of the Tsar.
"These documents confirm what I say," said Governor Jeroth. "I thought you'd appreciate my summary, given your schedule."
The Tsar was silent.
Governor Jeroth gulped.
"General Renaud de Thom and Lord Lamber have accepted your terms," reported Governor Jeroth. "They have began preparations for the coup, and have already began sending you tribute. I expect them to secure the Presidency within the year."
"Good," said the Tsar, moving a few pieces on his map. "Smart men. Foreign bureaucrats often don't pledge loyalty to me until it's too late."
"Unfortunate for them," smiled Jeroth. He knew he was most trusted of the Tsar's former opponents. Still, he slept with one eye open during these summons in Moscow.
"Tell Renaud his people will keep their homes so long as he acts as my faithful puppet," said the Tsar.
Governor Jeroth nodded, and wrote some notes.
"Governess Blooky is sending lower tribute from the former Ottoman regions," said Jeroth carefully.
The Tsar glared at Jeroth.
"There are reports of Italian guerrilla fighters harassing patrols and traders in that area," said Jeroth. "They seem to specifically be targeting caravans heading to Moscow."
"Pietro," growled the Tsar, grabbing the lone Italian piece on his map and squeezing it.
"Pietro has not yet been captured," admitted Jeroth. "However, Governess Blooky believes he will be caught soon. It's simply a matter of following the path of Czech bodies."
The Tsar opened his hand and dropped a pile of splinters onto the map.
A clock on the wall struck one. When the mighty bells of Moscow ceased ringing, the Tsar pushed Governor Jeroth aside and strode out of his office.
"Your Excellency," said Jeroth, following at a respectable distance. "You were going to have Public Appeal lessons with Liebwasser at one. Shall I reschedule your meeting?"
"Tell the 'beloved Kaisar' I will be attending, late," said the Tsar. "I have an odd craving."
Governor Jeroth shuddered. Only Governess Blooky was said to have stranger taste in...delights. Still, he was satisfied the Tsar would take likability lessons from Liebwasser. They were desperately needed, and Liebwasser's continued role in public service helped cement Germany's stability.
Soon Governor Jeroth was escorted to the car loaned him. Two Turkish servants greeted him nervously, and their journey to the troubles at home began. Being the first nation to come to terms with Russia was not a popular decision after their betrayal, but Governor Jeroth knew he made the right call. His people were at least not starving, and retained relative autonomy. Those slower to embrace the Teal Vision were much worse-off.
"This is a new car," observed Jeroth as he climbed into the back. As they drove, he noticed a few of the same model driving around the Moscow palace. "So the Tsar has begun importing American vehicles. So much for keeping his diplomatic adviser informed."
Governor Jeroth rubbed his temples.
"At least he and President Stealthy are opening trade," thought Jeroth. "I hope their relationship goes well. I don't wish to see another war in my lifetime."
The car drove on and Governor Jeroth continued to sigh deeply.
...
Meanwhile, the Teal Tsar made a rare appearance in front of a rarely seen cell deep in the Moscow dungeons.
"I am in need of your assistance," said the Tsar. "I am aware that you have skills many consider valuable. I will put them to use today."
"I keep telling you I'm ready to be useful!" smiled the Archduke. Shackles clinked as he excitedly moved his weakening arms. Captivity had not been kind to his health or appearance. "Been ready for months! And boy, are you going to be glad you let me be Archduke again! I'm very beloved, and really good at this politics stuff. You won't be sorry, you 'ol Teal bastard!"
"Release him," said the Tsar.
A guard moved forward and undid shackles. The Archduke's sole cellmate, the gyromaker expressed wordless thanks.
"Follow me," said the Tsar, walking away. "I'm getting hungrier by the minute."
"H-hey wait!" cried the Archduke, as the gyromaker carefully followed his new master. "I can make food too! A-and I can tell jokes! Russia still has court jesters right?"
The echo of footsteps grew fainter.
"Okay, I got one!" said the Archduke. "How many Russians does it take to light a candle? Wait, uh wrong crowd for that one. Okay um, why did the Italian...guys? Hey! Guys?"
The prison guard sighed and rubbed his temples. Truly, he was subjected to the worse torture.