That winter, spectators around the world had their fill of entertainment. The king-selection campaigns in six European countries had turned into no laughing matter—or rather, a spectacular farce—and everyone watched the commotion to their heart's content.
For instance, the people of Belarus marched and demonstrated, declaring that they did not want independence yet, much less that deadweight Grand Duke Mikhail as their king.
They held high the banner of anti-secession, leaving the League of Nations representatives in utter disarray as they fled in panic.
Nicholas II was pleased. There were still subjects loyal to him; not everyone had rebelled.
Of course, had he learned why Belarus opposed Grand Duke Mikhail's accession, he probably would not have thought so.
Nicholas II had already been hailed by Russians as one of the worst tsars in history. As for Grand Duke Mikhail, who was even more hopeless than him—did that even need saying?
Well, the backlash from his ruined reputation had arrived. What the people wanted now was a law-abiding king. Naturally, a rebellious king who loved stirring up trouble like him was unwelcome.
The Poles next door were no less restless. They wanted to establish the Greater Poland Kingdom and had secretly plotted for Austrian Poland's independence, only for the plan to leak at this critical juncture.
The Austro-Hungarian Empire refused to let them off, directly submitting the evidence to the League of Nations and demanding that it punish the Poles' illegal actions. The sides were still wrangling over it.
Regardless of the final verdict, the newly founded Kingdom of Poland had been left in a thoroughly embarrassing state, and much of the joy of independence had been washed away.
The three Baltic states were doing fairly well. With smaller populations came fewer conflicts, and at least no great farce had erupted.