Paul Shuvalov's face darkened slightly. What was going on? Of course he knew: the conflict between nobles and commoners, the consolidation of land into fewer hands, and the peasants' ruin, forcing them to leave and seek a living elsewhere.
But he couldn't say that. Wouldn't it disgrace his own country? Smear his homeland's good name? Though it was already black as soot, Russia still had its pride!
He smiled as he improvised, speaking with a touch of arrogance. "Your Highness, you may not be aware, but the Russian Empire now has a population of more than 120 million. A little movement of people is perfectly normal!"
What he meant was: don't make such a fuss. A mere few tens of thousands meant nothing to the Russian Empire. We're not like your Bulgaria; these are trivial matters.
Ferdinand smiled, showing that he understood. That's hardly a little! In the ten short years from 1891 to 1901 alone, more than 900,000 people had emigrated from Russia to other parts of Europe.
Ferdinand could practically drool at the sight of those numbers. And that was only what had been recorded. Who knew how many had gone undocumented or died along the way?
Most importantly, Russian and Bulgarian languages and cultures were similar. They could manage everyday conversation, and shared so much in religion and folk customs. They would be easy to assimilate!
"Count Paul, you know Bulgaria is short on people, while your country has abundant manpower. We could cooperate in this area!" Ferdinand said, feigning difficulty.
Paul Shuvalov understood what Ferdinand meant and did not refuse. To him, it was a trifling matter. A mere handful of commoners were nothing to worry about.
Still, out of diplomatic habit, he paused and pretended to hesitate. "Your Highness means to set your sights on