Reincarnated with a Country Creation System

In the opulent halls of the Winter Palace, the seat of power for the Ruthenian Empire, tension hung heavy in the air. Tsar Ivan Alexandrovich paced back and forth in his private study, the soft click of his polished boots the only sound in the otherwise silent room. The Tsar's patience was wearing thin, and every minute that passed without an update only deepened the furrow in his brow.

A knock echoed through the room, breaking the tense silence. "Enter," Ivan commanded sharply, not bothering to slow his pacing.

The doors swung open, revealing Mikhailov.

"Mikhailov, you have news?" Ivan demanded, his voice a razor's edge. The Tsar had been waiting for the outcome of the latest engagement with the Valorians, and the delay in receiving any word had already put him on edge.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Mikhailov replied, bowing his head before stepping forward. "A report from Admiral Volkov's fleet has just arrived via coded transmission."

Ivan stopped pacing and turned his full attention to the officer. "Speak plainly, Mikhailov. How did our forces fare?"

Mikhailov swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the dossier in his hands. "Your Majesty," he began, "our fleet engaged the Valorian Navy near their northern coast. Admiral Volkov reports that while we inflicted significant damage on the enemy, the engagement resulted in heavy losses for us as well."

A vein in Ivan's temple pulsed as he listened. "What losses, exactly?"

Mikhailov hesitated for a fraction of a second, then steeled himself. "The battleship Ivan the Terrible has been confirmed lost, and the Catherine the Great sustained critical damage. The carrier Stormbringer remains operational but is heavily compromised. Our forces were forced to retreat to avoid complete annihilation."

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. The Tsar's face darkened, his eyes narrowing as if Mikhailov himself was to blame for the catastrophic news. Ivan's fists clenched at his sides. "And Admiral Volkov?" the Tsar demanded through gritted teeth.

"Admiral Volkov remains in command of the fleet," Mikhailov explained quickly, his voice tinged with anxiety. "He has ordered a tactical retreat to regroup and repair before planning another assault. He reports that while we managed to sink two Valorian ships, including one of their heavy cruisers, their defenses were stronger than anticipated."

Tsar Ivan slammed his fist onto the ornate desk, causing the crystal decanter sitting atop it to tremble. "Stronger than anticipated?" Ivan hissed, his voice dangerously low. "I do not pay my admirals to be caught off guard. I pay them to crush our enemies!"

Mikhailov flinched but held his ground. "Your Majesty, Volkov requests immediate reinforcements and resupply. He believes that with additional forces from the Black Sea Fleet, they can break through the Valorian lines and secure a beachhead."

Ivan's eyes narrowed. "So, you mean to tell me that our proud Ruthenian Navy, supposedly the most formidable force in these waters, is begging for reinforcements to handle an enemy that should have already been crushed?" His voice dripped with sarcasm and disdain.

Mikhailov kept his eyes on the ground, not daring to meet the Tsar's fiery gaze. "Admiral Volkov assures us that with the requested reinforcements, he will be able to deliver a decisive blow. He has already begun preparations to fortify his position and launch a renewed offensive once the additional ships and resources arrive."

The Tsar took a deep breath, attempting to rein in his temper. Failure was not something he was accustomed to, especially not from his most trusted commanders. But the setbacks in Valoria were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, and he knew that the eyes of his court were watching closely. Any sign of weakness, any admission of failure, could embolden his enemies both within the empire and beyond its borders.

"Very well," Ivan said finally, his voice cold and measured. "Authorize the reinforcements. The Black Sea Fleet will rendezvous with Volkov's forces. But mark my words, Mikhailov: if Admiral Volkov fails me again, he will not live to see another sunrise. Do I make myself clear?"

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Mikhailov bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty. I will see to it that your orders are carried out immediately."

Ivan dismissed him with a wave of his hand, turning away to gaze out of the tall windows overlooking the snow-covered palace grounds. As Mikhailov exited, the heavy doors closed behind him with a thud, leaving the Tsar alone with his thoughts.

For a moment, Ivan simply stood there, staring out at the bleak winter landscape. He had placed his trust in Volkov, a seasoned admiral who had proven himself time and again. But trust was a fragile thing, easily shattered by failure. The Tsar's mind raced as he considered his next move. He would crush Valoria, but it seemed he would have to be far more ruthless than he had initially planned.

Reaching for a nearby decanter, Ivan poured himself a glass of clear, potent vodka. He took a slow sip, the burn of the alcohol doing little to soothe his anger. No, this was not over—not by a long shot. If Valoria thought they had gained even a moment of respite, they were gravely mistaken.

The Tsar's eyes narrowed as he set the glass down with a decisive clink. He would approve the reinforcements, but he would also send a trusted emissary to Volkov—someone to ensure that the Admiral understood the consequences of further failure.

In the corridors outside, Mikhailov hastened to relay the orders to the Imperial Naval Command. The Tsar had made his decision, and now it was up to the officers and soldiers of the Ruthenian Empire to see it through. But Mikhailov couldn't shake the feeling that they were being driven to the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from disaster.

After all, if they lost the naval battle against the Valorians, their position as the world's dominant superpower would be irrevocably weakened. That is something that they can't let happen. They can't lose to a country that just appeared out of nowhere. Their pride won't allow it.