Regent Dikiy stood along the ridge, binoculars pressed to his eyes. The night was pitch-black, and he could hardly make out anything.
But that all changed with a flare gun's shot, bathing the field in an eerie red light. Dikiy could see the light glinting off the polished helmets of the Shturmoviki, as well as the tips of their bayonets. They charged forward out of their foxholes and bunkers in the night, toward the village that the damnable Asiatic Buryats had turned into a bulwark of resistance.
Gunfire started coming from the village, and some of the Shturmoviki fell, but the rest weren't deterred. They charged with no less valor than before, rifles held firmly, screaming war cries in the name of the tear and regent. For a moment. Dikiy forgot that the empire had fallen, and he was watching them crush rebels in the first Regent's eastward march all over again.
At last, the Shturmoviki reached the village, and they began cutting a bloody swathe through . The sound of screams and gunfire drifted across the air, and Dikiy couldn't help but feel his breast swell with pride.
"Maybe there is some hope for Russia after all"
YOU ARE READING
The Eternal Regency of Holy Russia
Historical FictionFounded as a reaction to the imposter Alexei II in Irkutsk, the Regency of Holy Russia is foremost a state centered around putting down any opposition to the true Regent - Andrey Dikiy himself. From a radio station in the Buryatian wilderness. Dikiy...
