I Became the Last Princess of the Brown Bear Kingdom

---

For a while in Iran, I devised a specific founding plan for the Islamic-Hellenism Federation through the alliance of Iraq and Iran.

Bizarrely enough, I became the focal point of it all.

Due to a terrorist incident at the mosque, everyone followed me without a single complaint.

I also strengthened my ties with the White Army generals and the Iranian-Iraqi military officers.

“The steel wave of Russia has swept through Europe in the blink of an eye.”

“Indeed. Our Russia strikes hard, even when beating a dog. Much less against the Arabs, who are the birthplace of ancient civilization and currently play a significant role in the world, deploying tanks and bombers, while also mobilizing fleets at sea. They might even launch nuclear attacks.”

“Truly, truly. Was it your genuine intention to accept us as friends?”

“Yes, ha ha ha ha!”

I couldn’t help but wonder why they were so cheerful.

The Iranian and Iraqi officers were like that too. You’d think they’d have some grievances, yet here they were mingling and making a fuss.

Of course, it was only natural since I had eliminated the resisting factions, leaving only yes-men behind.

“General Zhukov. Haven’t we received any updates from the Greek Army?”

“I just heard they’ve entered Afghanistan.”

Entering Afghanistan.

So, the Greek Army has finally stepped into the Empire’s grave. What could possibly happen next?

The report from Beria must be a few days old, so the Greek Army must have advanced a bit more.

“Sigh. Isn’t it a bit late?”

They should hurry up and engage in battle. I’m curious about what will happen.

The Empire’s grave, huh? That invincible army, calling itself the New Hellenistic Army, is now crawling into the Empire’s tomb?

I really can’t help but wonder what will come of it.

“Still, we should see good results soon, right?”

“I’m quite curious about Afghanistan.”

Very curious. Incredibly curious.

Could it be that those Greek warriors, almost like deities from Greek and Roman mythology, would appear to help obliterate Afghanistan?

“Do you think Afghanistan can really hold them back?”

Honestly, I think they might manage. After all, why would Iran and Iraq try to drag an incapacitated Afghanistan into their plans?

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Panjshir, just how difficult could it be? It’s a place where even the Soviets couldn’t conquer with all their might.

In the real world, the Afghan people’s resistance front had managed to beat the Taliban in Panjshir.

Of course, it was quickly raided by the unexpected intervention of Pakistan or whoever, but still.

I honestly don’t know if it’s possible here.

As I vacillated between nervousness, anxiety, and irritation, the Iranian queen, Soraya Espandiaribahhtyari, seemed to find the men’s war chatter quite bothersome, so she took the time to speak with me.

At just over her early twenties, she was a vibrant and lively woman.

She was born to an Iranian father and a Russian-German mother.

I didn’t quite understand how she became connected to the Iranian king; I assume it follows a similar pattern to history.

I hadn’t seen much change in human relationships, except for the marriage of Vladimir and Friederike.

“So, you have fought in wars since your girlhood?”

Soraya seemed deeply interested in my experiences in battle.

“That’s right. Going by the term ‘noblesse oblige’ back then, it was more a matter of leading the White Army to survive.”

It was a time back when I relied solely on invincibility.

You can just see it that way.

“Well, seeing as you’ve witnessed your family’s corpses, it’s unavoidable.”

“I intend not to leave a single communist in this world. Hence, I executed them all, including Lenin and his communist cronies.”

Ah, I’ll never forget the thrill of that day.

The White Army certainly wasn’t innocent either, but the reds must not exist under any circumstances.

Some said that the existence of reds led to a shift in societal perceptions towards workers. The one who survives is justice itself and is the ideology itself.

It’s ridiculous to think of Lenin seizing power for lessons learned from communists. Seriously.

And regardless of the Soviet Union’s fall, the German reds existed. They failed more severely than the Soviets did in history.

“Thus, this is how those who adhere to communism end up, huh?”

“Yes. Of course, in Iran, as long as the Rome Treaty is upheld, there won’t be any communist revolution. But I worry about potential religious issues.”

I’m still concerned about extremists, now for different reasons.

For example, look at me now.

I’m being treated like Allah, and I’m curious about how the Islamic aspects will change in the future.

“Really? But…”

“What are you curious about?”

What in the world could our queen be curious about?

“It seems you mainly wear military uniforms.”

Even though I see myself as a woman now, I still find pants comfortable.

Dresses feel so airy, like I’m not wearing anything underneath, and it bothers me.

“Well, when I’m in the palace, I dress comfortably, but pants are still the best. Ah, I think because I experienced that horrific civil war as a child, I’ve always felt the need to remain vigilant.”

At that, Soraya looked at me with sympathy.

Feeling pity? If she was born in the ’30s, she’d have a thirty-year age gap with me, right?

It feels a bit peculiar to gaze at me that way.

“I understand. That’s only natural. By the way, I have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“How can Your Majesty be so youthful? You’re younger than I am.”

“Well, I’m a saint. Since I’ve been recognized by God, I do not age. Just kidding, I have no idea.”

I thought being too straightforward about being a saint would ruin the mood, so I said it that way.

“But it’s really strange; you can’t say you’re not a saint.”

“You could consider me non-human.”

I am not a human. That should suffice.

“Speaking of saints, may I ask you something?”

“Feel free.”

I feel quite nervous at times like this.

Look at those bright eyes of hers. She seems eager to say something.

Her face screams, “Please predict for me!” in that moment.

“The thing is, I’ve been concerned about not having children.”

In simple terms, she’s saying she can’t get pregnant.

Hmm, didn’t Pahlavi II have three queens?

I understand she’s the second queen now, but is it due to children?

I’ve never heard of any stories claiming she died.

It would make sense. Perhaps she’s infertile. That’s why she might have taken a third wife for lineage’s sake. If she’s been barren for a few years, that could happen.

Though I don’t know much about this culture, royal unions are usually for the sake of heirs.

If so, they must have tried hard every night. Should I just ask her?

I looked at her with a serious face.

“Can I speak frankly?”

“Is it possible I’m infertile?”

She probably already felt it herself.

At the very least, she should have sensed she wasn’t in a condition to conceive.

“Yes. So, you need to start preparing.”

At my words, she hesitated, then finally spoke up.

“Should I get a divorce? But I love my husband. The king.”

“Right. Love. That’s nice. They really seem to love each other.”

It’s obvious they share a cozy bond.

So, what to do? I don’t know how history will change moving forward.

“Well, if it’s truly serious, you’ll have to follow European methods.”

“You mean European methods? What could that be?”

European methods are simple.

Just look around at how the current civilizations are led by the Rome Treaty.

How are the monarchies under the Rome Treaty doing now?

In Russia, I’ll become empress, Britain is soon to have a queen, and Germany will have an empress. Turkey may not have a complete Sultan, but it has a Caliph.

That means Europe has become a prime environment for indulging in harem fantasies for the future.

“Europe is now the era of empresses. For starters, I’m Anastasia, and soon there will also be Victoria Luise of Germany, and Turkey has a female Caliph. England’s Elizabeth will also soon reign as queen, largely thanks to my influence, it’s become the era of empresses.”

Do you understand what I’m saying?

Yes. It implies that the next generation can be established as an empress.

“So, if I were to set my daughter apart as a successor.”

The queen, who caught the meaning of my words, gulped.

“That’s not a bad idea. The queen is closer to the European side than to Iran, isn’t she?”

It’s obvious she carries a European vibe.

It could be due to her marriage that she talks about Iran’s Islam or whatever, but still.

To my eyes at least, this woman feels more European than Islamic.

“Yes. Iran feels a bit strange to me. I love my husband, though.”

“Then, I shall support you, queen. I will personally endorse you as the Roman Emperor, who is exalted as Allah among the people of Iraq and Iran.”

The support of the Roman Emperor carries weight.

This isn’t just about appeasing a whiny woman who’s lamenting along the lines of the next generation being female! It’s adding the serious weight of the Roman Emperor!

Is there any force within Iran that could possibly rival the Roman Emperor?

I’m regarded as Allah in Iran, aren’t I? Could they dare to defy me in such a situation?

It just doesn’t make sense.

“Then I can make my daughter the queen of Iran.”

“Yes. Wouldn’t it be difficult for even the European great powers to elevate a woman to a monarch?”

“But we must consider the internal situation in Iran.”

Indeed. With all sorts of reasons tied to Islam, there may be opposition to crowning a daughter as queen.

Maybe even her husband might betray her.

But you know, that defiance is what matters.

Look at me. I revived the decayed Russian Empire. And the White Army, nostalgic for the old ways, attempted to resurrect either the Republic or Empire into a united country.

Ah, of course, I’m a Tanghulu now.

But we must say it straight. Unlike me, this woman only has the issue of the throne at stake.

“Indeed. But the prime minister faction was obliterated by the Greek invasion, and the royal faction will need the help of the Rome Treaty, won’t they? It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Are you sure you can help us that much?”

“Why not? Though I’m merely the Roman Emperor, I’m still just another woman like the queen. We must support each other.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

My underlying thought is that by supporting the queen, I’ll elevate a woman to empress in Iran and someday be able to exploit that favor.

“Now, let’s stop with the heavy discussions for today and toast to the eternal friendship between the Rome Treaty and Islam!”

“Cheers!”

Yeah. Up until that point, everything was going well.

That night, until awful news arrived from the Far East.

“Your Majesty, something big has happened in Japan.”

Beria appeared with the most troubled expression I’d seen recently.

“What on earth happened? If it’s just an issue for Eastern Japan, you wouldn’t have called me.”

If it’s Eastern Japan, the Americans would handle it, it wouldn’t be something significant with them.

I had instructively told nations like the Balhae Federation and public rights states to refrain from provoking the Americans.

However, it seems something far more severe has occurred.

“Yes, Your Majesty. It’s news from Western Japan.”

“Then do you mean Mutaguchi Renya?”

“It’s a message coming directly from Mutaguchi Renya to Your Majesty.”

What could it possibly be? Damn it.

“Damn, are we in a situation where we must invade Eastern Japan? No way, isn’t it too soon for this newly rebuilt position?”

It seems the communists in Western Japan incited a riot to save Eastern Japan.

Does that even make sense? This is odd.

“There seems to be considerable support among the Southern Manchuria Army too.”

That makes sense. The Southern Manchuria Army is essentially a puppet army.

They’ve been under Mutaguchi Renya for a long time. Any forces against him probably joined the dispatched troops or are intoxicated by the same hero-induced pride under his command.

“Shit. This is serious. But what can we do? We’re cornered now.”

Trotsky, that bastard, is putting us in this damn mess.

“Mutaguchi Renya has been running the country like this, huh?”

It’s a bit tricky to blame it all on Mutaguchi Renya. He’s stuck in a bind himself.

Still, he is a hero, Mutaguchi Renya.

Because he’s a hero, he didn’t turn away the Eastern Japanese crossing the borders.

While Eastern Japan was lost, the Yamato people from Eastern Japan are still Japanese. The hero Mutaguchi Renya may not be able to directly rescue them, but he had to accept those seeking refuge crossing the border.

In that process, if the communists pour in, it’s going to be tough.

“It’s not Mutaguchi Renya’s fault.”

It was simply a stroke of bad luck.

Actually, it could just be my fault for not anticipating that Trotsky would stir things up like this.

“What should we do now?”

“Hmm. Uhmmm.”

We do have several choices.