Chapter Five - Russia Has a New Problem

CHAPTER FIVE

Russia Has a New Problem

AT FIRST, PEOPLE laughed.
A holy man? From where? Siberia?
What’s he smell like, firewood and feet?

But then Rasputin started sticking around.
Then he started showing up in letters.
Then he started getting people fired.

And just like that, the laughter stopped.
Because the Russian aristocracy realized they weren’t dealing with a passing fad.
They were dealing with a cockroach in a cassock and he had the Tsarina in his pocket.

Alexandra loved Rasputin like a human talisman.

She believed he kept her son alive.
She believed his visions were divine.
She believed his enemies were devils in disguise.

So every time someone said, “Hey, uh, maybe this filthy monk shouldn’t be whispering orders to the government,”

She’d double down.
Defend him.
Accuse his critics of treason or heresy.

He was “Our Friend.”
Capital O. Capital F.
And the moment you became anti-Rasputin, you became anti-Alexandra.

Which meant anti-throne.
Which meant: good luck with that.

Nicholas II was the kind of man who needed strong advisors.
Unfortunately, he married one who was deep in a Rasputin hallucination.

So while Nicholas was away running World War I into the ground, Alexandra was back home, writing to Rasputin about what ministers to appoint.

Ministers! Decisions that affected the army, the government, and the survival of the empire. All influenced by a man who couldn’t read, wouldn’t wash, and may or may not have been blackout drunk.

And the Tsar just… let it happen.

He didn’t trust Rasputin, but he trusted his wife.
And his wife trusted Rasputin.

So here we are.

The Nobility thought he was a scam artist corrupting the throne.
The Church thought he was a heretic, possibly the Antichrist.
The Politicians thought he was an unqualified maniac breaking their already-broken system.
The Press? Oh, they LOVED him. Couldn’t print rumors fast enough.

There were stories of Rasputin seducing women in the palace.
Rasputin taking bribes.
Rasputin drunk in the streets, cursing at priests.
Rasputin screaming at dinner parties and predicting death.

Most of them were probably exaggerated.
Some were absolutely true.
And Rasputin didn’t care either way.

The more they attacked him, the more “persecuted prophet” points he scored with Alexandra.
He thrived on controversy.
He needed it.

He wasn’t just a freak in the palace anymore.
He was a symbol of everything wrong with Russia, and yet, the palace still defended him.

The phrase “Our Friend” started appearing in royal letters.
Over and over.

Even when the empire was collapsing, even when the army was starving, even when ministers were begging the Tsar to wake the hell up, Alexandra’s letters kept talking about “Our Friend says…”
“Do not listen to the lies about Our Friend…”
“Our Friend sees things the rest cannot…”

It wasn’t subtle.
It wasn’t political.
It was cult energy.

And no matter how much people begged, accused, or threatened, Rasputin kept his place.

Because he had found the ultimate protection:
A mother terrified for her son.
A throne on shaky legs.
And a reputation powerful enough to defy reality.