A husk of a man.

malnourished and grey as the country he created sits trembling in a corner of the grand
office, once shining from gold, now grey from all the dust. Once a great unifier of Russia, the regent of
the Holy Russian Empire, Taboritsky has now reduced himself to just a shadow of the man he once was.
A pile of documents lays just before the doors, some projects of his advisers who were to scared to
come in and confront the madman, no longer important to the regent. For he has been waiting for so
long, he spilled blood, ravaged land and ruined countless lives, he made his beloved country into the
state of perpetual midnight, the empire of nightmares, all to purify Russia, to make it ready for the time
it rightful sovereign appears...but he never did. With blood-read eyes he throws a crazed look to a
picture hanging on a wall, a young boy in the imperial army uniform. Holy Tzar Alexei, the autocrat of all
Russia. Slowly, Taboritsky stands up and walks on trembling legs towards the picture.

"Why, oh why, my lord..." he whispers.

"Why haven't you come yet? Why haven't you claim you rightful crown and thrown? Isn’t Russian poor
yet?!"

The regent slowly puts his hands on the walls right under the picture, looking at the majestic, almost
angelic image of the Tsarevich, as his eyes started shading tears, as did the whisper gave way to scream.

"Please, oh my lord, please tell me! I will do everything, I will spell so much blood the Neva will become
red, I will make the grand pyre of the lands of the motherland, I will build you a second thrown of sculls,
everything, but please my lord, I beg you as you most loyal servant, please return and claim you
Tsardom!"

The silence hang in the room, as the regent was looking at the picture. Heavy, suffocating silence. But
for the first time in many months, this silence was finally broken by someone other then Taboritsky
himself. A crack of an opening door made him look in the doorway, where hus advisors and generals
stood.

"Your majesty Regent". Said a general. "There is an important guest..."

As men walk to different sides, they give way to another person, who was standing behind them. A tall,
gray-haired mad in an old, tattered Russian uniform. Taboritsky looked upon him with unimaginable
shock. He knew every curve of the mans face, he knew exactly how his bright blue eyes look, even thou
they were standing in a dark room. Regent slowly comes towards the man.

"You...you are here...you are finally here..."

For the first time in years, the madman finally smiled, and as he fell to his knees he started crying again,
but now those were the tears of immanence joy, the joy only a man long lost, who has finally reached
the long searched for vindication can feel.

"Tzar Alexei..."

As this last words come from the regents mouth, he collapses to the ground. The man sits down next to
him and touches his right arm to check pulse, and after looks at the ministers and says "bring him to
Saint Petersburg and bury him close to his family. Even villains deserve some rest..."

"Will you attend the burial?" one of the men asked.

"I am afraid no." Answered Alexei. "There to much work to be done. The regency may be over, but
Russia is yet too far to awaken from this nightmare"