Sacking of Perm

The dawning of 1940 was meant to bring news of good fortunes from the Russian front lines, yet instead it only brought more conflict to their doorstep. The western front was not losing ground, but had started to buckle against the joint advances of the North Atlantic Alliance. Meanwhile, the Anglo-Japanese Pact was running rampant in Siberia and Central Asia, and the failed Alaskan incursions against the Canadians had only managed to blunt their ability to counter-strike. Worst of all, the accidental bombing of the American city of Seattle had landed the Regency in a conflict they could not possibly contend with while they were being pressured from every corner of the empire. While decentralization of the government was largely to blame for the failures of the empire thus far, many blamed the incompetency of the Regent for not trying to bring the disparate regional powers together in the conflict, as powerful subjects could not be expected to follow a weak leader. Regardless of fault, the result of this blame game was the inevitable clash of powers internally, as the supporters of one claimant to the throne lashed out against that of Felix Yusupov’s regency.

The Miserable Mystic

Had Governor-Admiral Yanovsky had his way in the aftermath of Operation Chernobog, the sudden and unprompted erasure of Seattle from the map would have been quietly swept under the rug. This was clearly an impossibility however, as the American response was immediate, arriving in Moscow about as fast as the official report from the Russian American Company. Leadership from all across the empire were outraged by the massive blunder, with the general consensus being that Yanovsky was “a masterful and traitorous deceiver” at best, and “the greatest fool the world has seen” at worst. As if the situation was not bad enough, the official response by the Regent, Prince Yusupov, was as limp-wristed as many expected of him.

The colonial government of Alaska had been operating in Canada with the full authorization of the central government, as the previous dealings of the RAC had done well to line the coffers of the regency with little need for oversight. Yusupov sent a token delegation to attempt to defuse the situation with the Americans, but offered little in compensation for the destruction aside from resource-based reparations at the conclusion of their hostilities, effectively offering to rebuild the city they burnt down, but giving nothing for the loss of life. This was all going on as photos were released in the states of the captured Prince Alexander Sergeevich Obolensky, the figure at the center of the incident. Yusupov sought the release of the young man and the amnesty of all aristocrats involved in the scandal, while the American public was ablaze with demands for the immediate capture and execution of all parties involved in the attack, including the young man who was actively yet reluctantly being shielded from the populace by their own military. The Regent-Prince, not learning from the mistakes of his predecessors in the aristocracy, refused to negotiate any such exchange, and the delegation was dead in the water.

For many of the strongest powers in Russia, this refusal to put the needs of the empire in front of personal pride was the last straw. The Okhotsk Techno-Union, who were actively fighting the Japanese with minimal support from the government, ceased all transactions and dealings with the Regency until their borders were clear. Altan, the son of the Mongolian Khan, renewed claims on the Kazakh frontier, hoping to use the period of unrest to resolve internal struggles with their “allied” neighbors. The Sandroviks, composed of the former supporters of the late Alexander Mikhailovich, began stockpiling munitions, and abandoned their efforts to assist the government in their defense of Central Asia. Perhaps the most vitriolic voice in the aftermath however, came from the Metropolitan Bishop of Yekaterinburg. 

The former mystical advisor to Nicholas II, Grigori Rasputin, declared the incident at Seattle was yet another symptom of the overreach of a pretender king, who held no right to authorize hostile actions beyond the borders of Russia. The Regent-Prince Yusupov had plunged the entire nation into chaos, and it was up to himself to rally the people to topple this corrupt government in order to save what was left of the empire. On March 1st, he formally declared his intentions to lead an army on the capital, with the goal of restoring a legitimate ruler to the throne, and give direction to the aimless state.

Rasputin’s hatred of Yusupov was common knowledge to even the lowest of serfs; a product of his cohorting with the late Romanovs, and Felix’s attempted assassination of him in response. In his exile to the outer empire however, Rasputin had grown to be one of the most powerful voices in rural politics, his overall reach behind only Yusupov, Andrei Alexandrovich (the Sandrovik claimant to the throne), and the Metropolitan-Bishop of Moscow (who was merely a puppet to the Regent in his eyes). He had the local lord of Yekaterinburg, Count Igor Ivanovich Bambetov, firmly on his side, lending military might to the cause. What’s more was that he also held a candidate to the throne in his protection, the elusive Tsarevna Anastasia, who had garnered him much of his support in the greater Ural region. After all, was a regent necessary when a rightful heir was already present?

This material support for Rasputin’s Nastyeviks included the backing of the region's largest manufacturer of military equipment, the Demidov Corporation. Established by an aristocratic family with a mining background, they were responsible for producing many of the government’s light armored vehicles, including the BA-36 Armored Car. By backing Rasputin and Anastasia militarily, both the Demidovs and Bambetov stood to gain much both politically and monetarily, especially as their first target on their march against the Regency was one of geographic and opportunistic convenience.

The Handsome Prince of Perm

To the west of Nastyevik territory, an alliance of boyars rallied to the banner of one Prince Iessej Denisovich Stroganov, lord of the great city of Perm. The Stroganov family had risen to great heights over the past century, thanks in part to the family’s involvement with every major regime change in modern Russian history. Count Pavel Alexandrovich was present at Austerlitz, meeting a similar fate to much of the Coalition’s power structure when stray artillery eliminated the command tent. Pavel's son Count Alexandre led the house in supporting Konstantin I’s war against Poland, before Alexandre's son Sergei would later betray the tyrant to support Paul II in the 1860s. This led to the family’s ascension to that of a Principality, one that used its wealth to industrialize their seat at Perm. The family’s financial success was so great after one generation that Iessej’s grandfather Fyodor was a primary target of the Red Army, and was killed in 1917 amid the failed revolution.

Prince Iessej himself does not have nearly as much of a storied past; a man in his early thirties who spent most of his youth hunting for sport, carousing with the middle class in Permian salons, and testing out luxury flying cars from the HRE. Yet, he was thankfully gifted with an impressive air of charisma, which has allowed him to garner an unaware but well-meaning reputation. His social aptitude has kept the peace among the minor lords of his region, his sordid “alliance” more of a handshake agreement than a rigid, treatied agreement. They follow him not just because of his birthright, but because they genuinely believe in him, a rare sight in a Russia which finds itself now at war with itself. 

At the time of Rasputin’s declaration of war, Perm still upheld its allegiance to the central government, as the Prince was very much a firm believer in the aristocratic establishment. Iessej's alliance had a standing army of 30,000 men, 10,000 of which were pledged directly to the principality. Thanks to his direct ownership of Gruzinsky Munitions, his territory was well stocked with munitions. The success of Perm’s logistical industries was actually serious enough that it had become a point of annoyance for the Moskovskaya Group, who had in secret supplied the Nastyevik-aligned 12th Ural Motor-Rifle Division in the build-up to Rasputin’s invasion. Their hope was that the invasion would cripple the production of their greatest competitor, allowing them to more directly profit from the war. Of course the destruction of the regional capital was to be avoided, if Rasputin got his way.

The city of Perm was in an optimal position for staging the conflict in the capital region, with its heavy infrastructure primed for the quick conveyance of materiel westward. If captured intact, its industry could further fuel the war machine as the scale of fighting increased, cutting out the need to work with Moskovskaya. The Kama-Kazan Union, who agreed with Rasputin in the regard that the Regent had no authority to wage offensive wars, publicly announced their intention to stay out of any external conflicts until a Tsar was chosen, and they made it clear that if Rasputin’s forces were to remain peaceful they could pass through their territory unchallenged. With the stage set, the Nastyevik’s only obstacle, assuming they deployed fast enough, was the city of Perm itself.

The Tears of Angels

  On March 4th, the 12th Ural Division, commanded by one General Viktor Kartov, breached the border of the Perm Principality at Kliuchi, followed closely by an immeasurable massing of Rasputin’s “flock”. Witnesses from the city estimate anywhere from 15-40,000 could have been in this secondary invasion force, armed with what weapons they could acquire from Demidov, Count Bambetov, and the police armories in Yekaterinburg. While not in attendance in the initial push himself, Rasputin sent his most trusted confidant Theophan Bystrov along with eight of their beloved “Snowbringers” to guide their forces on their march to Perm. With a force twice of that garrisoning the city, the battle was poised to be a bloody one, and the Prince was not ready.

The first attack came in the evening of the 4th, when the Motor-Rifle Division’s advance forces tested the defenses of the city, which had only mere hours to prepare. Iessej’s men had hurriedly established some barricades along the city’s perimeter, just within the shield’s range, allowing them to return fire on the Nastyeviks from relative safety. While the shield gave them some relief, the city was lacking in armored vehicles, with only a complement of artillery trucks and a few walkers for heavy ordnance. The war was never meant to make it this far inland, who could ever expect this? Ultimately, minimal casualties were sustained in the initial bout, but the Nastyeviks had gathered much of the intel they needed.

General Kartov was certain that Prince Stroganov would have to rely on the use of his shield generator to defend in the absence of real armor, meaning that he would likely not risk any counter-attacks. The problem was that Perm had likely gotten word out to its allies in the north that the attack was coming, and if he attempted a protracted siege, the eventual reinforcements would turn the tide against him. If he was to capture the city, he needed to take it before they arrived, for which he reliably only had a couple of days. The answer he landed on was truly a dangerous one; he would have to assault them directly.

The 12th Division made camp in the outlying village of Lobanovo, waiting for the followers of Rasputin to catch up. While a majority of the forces within were barely trained, their command structure was made up of former military men who aged out of their previous roles, and had chosen to take up for a righteous cause in the name of Anastasia. They knew the fight that was ahead of them, but did not fear what might happen.  Many of these men met with Kartov, Bystrov, and the starets as they discussed the plans for the attack the following day. The assault was to be brutal, with a high potential for casualties among the believers, a fact that was to be mitigated by the special technology brought along in the possession of the priests. Bystrov made an important distinction when planning for the attack however that the city needed to remain as intact as possible in the fighting, especially the munitions plants in the southwest. The resources gained in this attack would offset the potential loss of life, as with better weaponry they could wage a smarter, more calculated war.

While the invaders schemed in the south, Stroganov was shoring up the lines in Perm. He pulled all reserve troops to the perimeter of the city, shoring up the shielded front as much as possible. He even commanded the artillery units to wheel the trucks to line up only one block behind the lines, sacrificing safety for a precious increase in range. If the enemy were to break through their barrier, the city would be lost either way. That night, the bulk of the city fled north of the Kama river, their safe passage a final blessing from their former Bishop who now opposed them.

The Essence of Samael

At the dawn of March 5th, the Nastyeviks prepared for the day of combat, with the professional combatants taking positions to the southwest and southeast of the city. The volunteer army was to push directly northward against the front in the center, using the cover of the starets’ weather machines to buy them precious time to approach. The scouting parties had already deployed to draw attention away from the center, as Bystrov was giving a sermon to his followers in the leadup to the march. 

As he gave his speech, gunfire could be heard in the distance as the scouting parties fought on. Amid the volleys, the unthinkable happened; the sixty-five year old Bystrov keeled over, a fatal heart attack overcoming him at the moment of truth. As the elderly man who had been fine a moment ago collapsed into the mud, a frenzied call from the crowd erupted, “Our Bishop has been shot!” Confusion and anticipation was overtaken by unbridled rage, as the acolytes and officers could not settle the crowd. The attack had begun, and it would not cease until Perm was theirs. The starets were forced to march with their flock onward to ensure the machines were activated, but no warnings of restraint were given in the chaos. Theophan Bystrov lay there dying long enough to watch his followers charge forward in his name, a martyr who had yet to die.

Prince Iessej sat in a church tower just behind the defensive line, watching the battle unfold on both of his flanks. An auspicious fog rolled in from the south, obscuring his ability to see beyond the shield. On a whim, he had one of his men fire a flare into the cloud. Through the glowing red light he saw the horde of the devil himself, closing in less than a kilometer from his position. The Snowbringers had done their job, masking the approach with weather machines mounted on their sleds. Those who were not on foot were closing in by the truckload, with as many as a dozen men aboard one vehicle. Without thinking, he ordered the center contingent to open fire. The maelstrom was upon them. 

As previously stated, the real number of volunteer soldiers that were present at the attack on Perm is not known. What is certain is that the number that lay dead on the outskirts of the city by the end of the day was in the many thousands. While it would be unfair to say that their advance was mindless (the cover of the weather machines made certain they had at least some protection), the sheer scale of attack was likened by Perm survivors to that of a stampede, the vigor of an enraged and devout populace being ample replacement for training and resolve. Those who made it into the shield were the most zealous, the ones who kept going even as shots grazed them in the advance. The Perm forces, while professional, were slowly pushed back into the interior, their artillery trucks proving ineffective quickly. The 12th Division had also done enough in distracting the outer flanks, and moved southward to support the push on the buckling center. The remaining defenders had only one logical recourse in this deteriorating situation; Fall back to the Kama river and prepare to cover the retreat northward.

The Prince’s contingent had escaped the initial clash, but they had sacrificed their artillery in the process. Their few walkers proved effective in slowing the advance due to their ability to shoot over the rooftops, but as the armored units flooded in they lost the advantage. Iessej himself had multiple close calls, as bullets flew past the few hundred men as they approached the bridge. His saving grace was the commandeering of one of the Nastyeviks’ cars, a maneuver that would have gotten him killed were it not for his personal shield. As the remnants of the center contingent fled across the river, he and the remaining fresh forces covered the retreat, the Prince himself manning the gun on his stolen ride. Of the ten thousand men he had started the day with, under four thousand had made it out in the end, but at least they could fall back to contest their foes again.

The forces of Rasputin meanwhile suffered more than twice the casualties, though the bulk of them were from the volunteer army. The assault, in spite of the death of Bystrov, was a success. Unfortunately, the loss of one of their spiritual leaders was met with a continued fury, even as the remaining defenders fled. Members of the volunteer army flooded the streets well into the night, raiding homes and beating remaining locals who hid in their homes. “If you were not rejoicing in the streets at your liberation, you clearly must fear the retribution of Rasputin!” Vandals did not just limit themselves to the residential quarters however, as many flooded into areas which may have more profitable loot. Yes, the entire city was open season for pillaging, especially the munitions factory, which their leader failed to forbid in his sudden passing.

While Rasputin had hoped to repurpose the munitions plant in Perm to fuel his ongoing war against the Yusupov faction, he would arrive two days later to find much of the city burning, the munitions plant an incinerated husk on the outskirts. In the feverish chaos, unidentified members of the volunteer army had started a fire in the industrial zone, which had been left uncontrolled through the first night. At 3:37, the fire spread to the plant, detonating a weapons stockpile that initiated a chain reaction within the complex. The prize the Metropolitan Bishop had yearned for was lost through bad luck and unbridled violence. The war would continue, but Rasputin would have to work harder to take down his rivals.

Additionally, Prince of Perm was still on the loose, regrouping with his rural supporters in the north. Rasputin had cleared the greatest obstacle on the road to the capital, but he could not advance further without watching his back. His best course of action now was to send Kartov forward with the 12th Division and the bulk of the surviving volunteers. The most experienced members of the mob would remain behind in Perm while Rasputin and his personal guard salvaged what they could from the ruins, the husk of the great city serving as the forward command post for the Nastyevik insurrection. The elderly holy man kept a watchful eye northward as he planned his invasion, anticipating a day the young Iessej would return for his seat. The city may have been largely destroyed, but the two were destined to clash at Perm once more.