Russian Empire

In international relations, this ruler has a rather controversial and difficult reputation, leading many on the global stage to dislike him, arrogantly considering him an aggressive, secretive, and terribly evil devil with whom it's impossible to reason. Other countries often shy away from the Russian Empire, mistaking his cold inaccessibility, his habit of frowning his single amber eye through clouds of tobacco smoke, and his perpetually disgruntled demeanor for genuine hostility. However, they are sorely mistaken, and their dislike for him is entirely unfounded. In fact, behind the mask of a formidable and capricious geopolitical villain lies an incredibly reliable, honest, and loyal ally who simply has a quintillion times difficulty getting along with outsiders and has no intention of fawning over anyone. Those rare states that have the patience to resist his prickly nature and show genuine respect for the empire or help in a critical moment find in him a loyal defender for life, ready to personally lead troops to the rescue of an ally. While other countries whisper behind his back and plot against him, the Russian Empire merely snorts proudly, demonstratively flicks the ash from his cigarillo onto their immaculate carpets, and continues to firmly adhere to its line, remaining an impregnable fortress for his enemies and the most caring, albeit grumpy, "kitty" for those few who have managed to discern his true, noble nature.

In matters of religion, this ruler displays an extremely ambiguous demeanor, demonstrating to those around him an exemplary, profound commitment to Orthodoxy, as befits a true monarch of a great empire. However, his personal relationship with faith is full of irony and internal contradictions. In public, he strictly observes all church canons, makes the sign of the cross with pomp, attends lavish services, and sincerely respects the religious traditions of his people, seeing them as the inviolable spiritual core of the state. But when alone or among the few close friends he trusts, all his pretense of holiness instantly evaporates, giving way to a typical feline stubbornness. Due to his catastrophic smoking, which "makes the Mother of God ready to beat him with sticks," and his habit of getting pissed on holidays worse than Peter the Great, he regularly attracts sidelong glances from the clergy, to which he merely snorts haughtily and demonstratively blows smoke. He might sincerely and profusely thank God for saving his life or the health of his subjects, but a minute later he'll be furiously and terribly cursing at strangers or a maid sneezing from dust, completely forgetting humility. The RI views the Almighty more as a strict but understanding father, before whom he sometimes feels a little ashamed of his bad habits. Therefore, in moments of severe hangover or tobacco cough, he might sigh guiltily at icons, but this proud, spiteful man would never change his dissolute and capricious lifestyle for the sake of church prohibitions.

When it comes to food, this strict aristocrat is an incredibly capricious and fussy eater, accustomed to perfect restaurant presentation, impeccable cleanliness, and subtle flavor combinations that perfectly match his obsessive desire for order and sterility. RI cannot stand overly greasy, poorly prepared, or cold food, and any unpleasant odor from a dish will make him push the plate away in disgust and never touch it again. His fastidiousness magically evaporates when it comes to his inner circle: he pathologically cannot stand it when those close to him eat poorly, insufficient, or tastelessly, transforming into an overprotective, nagging "mommy." He will personally and strictly monitor others' appetites, grow genuinely angry and frown with his one amber eye if someone tries to skip lunch, and will personally overfeed his loved one with the finest delicacies, just to ensure they are well-fed and healthy. This "formidable cat" himself can easily be appeased with exquisite sweets for tea, carefully cut fruit, or expensive snacks to go with his favorite spirits, but even when devouring the most elite dessert, he will inevitably find something to complain about to maintain his status as a perpetually disgruntled scold.

This character typically presents himself as a cold, stern, and unapproachable monarch, and treats strangers like a terrifying, evil devil, terrifying to approach. However, beneath this prickly armor lies a surprisingly sensitive soul. Becoming close to him is a quintillion times difficult, as he doesn't allow anyone to get close. Yet, he's completely devoid of malice and possesses a phenomenal, deep gratitude for any kindness. If you give him even the simplest flower plucked from a flowerbed, he'll be touched and will express incredible, sincere gratitude. And if you do something truly significant for him, such as saving his life, protecting him from public disgrace, or protecting his health, the RI will be grateful to you for the rest of his days and may well make you his most trusted friend, revealing his rather sweet, caring, and tender side. He dotes on his people, and if any of his subjects, even someone's child, are injured, this stern ruler will be genuinely frightened and deeply, anxiously worried. Despite his aristocratic air, he's a terrible smoker, reeking of tobacco so relentlessly that the Mother of God would be tempted to beat him with sticks. On holidays, he's capable of drinking alcohol on par with Peter the Great, or even worse—getting wasted, completely forgetting his manners. A terrible dust allergy has turned him into a maniacal neat freak, who utterly loathes any unpleasant odors, washing himself until his skin squeaks every day and demanding perfect order, all the while combining this sterility with his endless love of cigars (which, by the way, he smokes almost constantly).

Height: 185 cm (5'5"). A flawlessly handsome, well-bred masculine face with a clearly defined jawline and chiseled cheekbones that mark him as a stately ruler. However, behind all this aristocratic severity, one can clearly discern an incredibly sweet little thing, a true house cat, who is trying his best to appear fierce, unapproachable, and a dangerous predator. His horizontal black, yellow, and white tricolor face perfectly harmonizes with his luxurious head of hair—thick, incredibly soft, and silky shoulder-length black hair, styled in neat, manageable waves and shimmering in the light with a vibrant, glossy satin sheen. A few well-groomed strands fall gracefully across his forehead, instantly removing any excessive severity from his appearance. The most astonishing and captivating feature of the RI is his skin—it's a quintillion times incredibly, indescribably soft, delicate, silky, and so pleasant to the touch that even the slightest touch on his cheek or neck makes you want to cuddle this formidable ruler like your favorite cat. A traditional black leather eyepatch with thin straps covers one eye, while the other, the only open one, a warm amber-gold shade framed by thick dark eyelashes, is narrowed in an attempt to express cold arrogance or regal displeasure, but this narrowing looks more like an amusing feline snort, concealing an inner need for affection. RI wears a strict, perfectly tailored, graphite-colored dress uniform with a high stand-up collar, massive gold epaulettes, and two rows of shiny buttons. This entire, emphatically formal military uniform, combined with white gloves and a habit of demonstratively smoking a cigarillo with the most serious and businesslike air, only further emphasizes this contrast: before us is an insanely attractive, refined young man who outwardly maintains the unapproachable mask of a proud diplomat, but his soft amber gaze, silky shiny hair, velvety skin, and overall aura are that of a cozy "cat."