Alexander let out a contented sigh as he strode down the expansive hallway of the newly commissioned aircraft carrier, flanked by his contingent of Imperial Guards. The weight of the ceremony had lifted from his shoulders, and he could now focus on the pressing matters of state that awaited him back at the Winter Palace.

The significance of nuclear power was not lost on Alexander. It had been the weapon that leveled Washington D.C., the city still in the process of reconstruction. Many nations sought to acquire this power, but their progress was stymied by the Ruthenian Empire's monopoly on the talent pool of nuclear engineering.

As he made his way down the hallway, Alexander couldn't help but reflect on the vast resources that his nation had devoted to the creation of this state-of-the-art warship.

The Ruthenia Empire is the only one capable of constructing these giants and the rest could only watch as the power of the Ruthenia Empire grew. And yet, even with this magnificent vessel at his command. Alexander knew that the work of securing his nation's future was far from over. There were always new challenges to be faced, and new threats to be met, like the traitors within the Ruthenia Empire who were giving rogue groups Ruthenian weapons. But he was resolved to meet them head-on, with the full force of the Ruthenian Empire behind him.

As Alexander stepped off the aircraft carrier, a pack of journalists descended upon him, their cameras flashing like strobe lights. The Imperial Guards sprang into action, creating a perimeter to push the journalists away and shield the Emperor from the relentless barrage.

Undeterred, one of the journalists pushed his way through, brandishing a note with a question scrawled on it. "Your Majesty, please answer one of our questions. It will only take a minute," the journalist pleaded.

With a wave of his hand, Alexander acquiesced but warned the journalist to be quick. "What is your question?" he asked the edge in his voice indicating his impatience.

The journalist cleared his throat and read from his note, "How do you respond to criticism that the five billion rubles spent on constructing this aircraft carrier should have gone to developing impoverished regions of the Ruthenia Empire?"

Alexander's eyes narrowed as he considered the question. "Investing in our national defense is critical to the security of the Ruthenia Empire," he replied, his tone measured and firm. "We can't neglect our military and leave our citizens vulnerable to external threats."

The journalist pressed on, "But you developed new territories like Senegal more than the impoverished regions that are part of the Ruthenia Empire for a hundred years. Not to mention, it's a thousand kilometers away. If you can do it, why not do it here?"

"You see, there is something called a strategic location. Where that location is vital for protecting the interest of the Ruthenia Empire in the Atlantic Oceans. We have detailed plans to develop the impoverished regions that you just mentioned, but it doesn't happen overnight. Give me another five years and the impoverished region you speak of would be as rich as any other developed cities in the Ruthenia Empire like St. Petersburg and Moskva."

The journalist persisted, "If you have plans, do you intend to release it to the public?""Yes," Alexander said curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to."

He stepped into the motorcade, the door closing with a thud. The sound of the engine roared to life, muffling the journalists' voices as they called out after him. Alexander let out a deep breath, relieved to have left the chaos behind.

Alexander let out a frustrated sigh and spoke. "I keep getting that question over and over again. When will people learn that the Ruthenia Empire is the largest country in the world and that developing it would take decades?" Alexander complained.

Sergei chuckled softly, attempting to ease the Emperor's frustration. "Well, there's nothing we can do about it. You listened to their question and answered them accordingly. There are times that journalists exist to irritate us."

Alexander smiled at Sergei's words, knowing that he was right. But the Emperor couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance that the journalists didn't seem to understand the complex and multifaceted nature of developing a country as vast and diverse as the Ruthenia Empire.

As they got into the car and it started to pull away from the aircraft carrier, Alexander decided to let go of his irritation and focus on the future. After all, he knew that the development of the empire was a long-term project, and he was committed to doing whatever it takes to ensure its success.

Ten minutes later, the car glided up to a halt at the imposing Winter Palace. As Alexander prepared himself to exit the vehicle, he flickered his gaze to Sergei with a resolute stare.

"I need you to stay vigilant in the Command Ops. We've got a lead on the potential gun smuggling to the Communist forces in the Republic of China. The moment we uncover the culprit, I want to know without delay."

Sergei inclined his head in understanding. "As you command, Your Majesty."

Alexander's eyes sparked with fury. "When we track down those traitors, they'll rue the day they were born. I'll ensure they're thrown into the gulag for the rest of their pitiful existence."

Sergei's jaw tensed, but he nodded firmly. "I'll see to it that we comb every inch, Your Majesty. We won't rest until we've uncovered the perpetrator."

With a nod of approval, Alexander emerged from the car, his thoughts consumed by the traitors plotting against the empire. But his brooding was soon interrupted by the sight of his wife and two children waiting for him in the foyer of the palace.

"Papa, welcome back!" Anya's voice rang through the grand foyer of the Winter Palace, her eyes sparkling with delight as she rushed to greet him.

"Welcome back, my dear," Sophie's voice chimed in, her lips curved into a warm smile.

Andrei trailed behind with a more subdued greeting, his gaze fixed on a toy airplane he was fiddling with.

"Hello," Alexander greeted them, his smile spreading across his face.

The sight of his family brought a wave of warmth to Alexander's heart, and he couldn't help but bend down to kiss his children on the forehead and embrace his wife.

"It's good to be home," he said, his voice laced with tenderness.

Sophie looked up at him with a hint of concern etched across her face. "Is everything alright? You seem troubled."

Alexander hesitated for a moment but then decided to brush aside her concerns. "No, it must be your imagination. I am perfectly fine."

Sophie seemed unconvinced, but before she could say anything more, the sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention to a group of Imperial Guards led by Sergei making their way toward them.

"Your Majesty," Sergei leaned and whispered, "we have some pressing matters to discuss with you in the Command Ops."

Alexander's mind instantly shifted from the warmth of his family to the weight of his responsibilities. "That fast? Okay," he replied with a curt nod.

"Papa…are you leaving again?" Anya asked, her voice laced with sadness.

Alexander turned to Anya with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, my dear. I won't be long. I'll be back before you know it."

Anya looked up at him with big, worried eyes. "But I miss you when you're gone. Can't you stay with us?"

Alexander's heart twisted with guilt. He knew how much his children missed him whenever he was away on state affairs. "I wish I could, dear. But there are matters that require my attention. You know that."

Anya's face fell, but she nodded in understanding.

Sophie stepped forward, her hand reaching out to take Alexander's. "We'll be here waiting for you when you return. Take care of yourself."

Alexander squeezed her hand, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "Always," he replied, before turning to follow Sergei.