Catherine and the Black Emperor

043. Desert Eagle

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is my final message to you: please leave the room!"

Sergei gripped the sword on his left side with his right hand.

He was a courtier of Queen Elizabeth.

To be precise, they were palace guards.

If anyone thinks he's just a pretty face, they'd be sorely mistaken. To become a close bodyguard to the Empress of Russia, he wouldn't claim to be a top-notch lone wolf, but he was certainly one of the bravest among the noble scions.

"Ah! Sergei, do you want to take on my soldiers?" Peter wasn't angry at all; instead, he perked up.

Sergei stared coldly at the soldiers.

These soldiers, who were being fed and cared for by Peter, were just figureheads. Sergei was confident he could handle them all by himself, but if he made a move, things would escalate significantly.

He committed the act on the night of the Grand Duke's wedding; regardless of the outcome, he will bear the responsibility.

Even knowing the consequences, some people still stood with Sergei and, like him, gripped the hilt of their swords.

"Your Highness, your behavior today is extremely outrageous. If His Majesty finds out, we will also suffer. Therefore, it is necessary to stop you." Naryshkin looked ahead.

Peter was immediately worried when he heard that his aunt might be angry.

He got out of bed, paused for a moment, and then gave the order to the soldiers: "Get out!"

Holstein's soldiers left the bedroom.

Peter looked at Sergei and Naryshkin: "You two are such a killjoy! Now you can both get out!"

Upon seeing that he had reached his destination, Naryshkin immediately nodded and left.

Sergei looked at Ekaterina, who gave him a grateful look. Sergei did not respond, turned and walked out of the room. Matrena and Gemma closed the door from the outside.

Once outside, Naryshkin, who had breathed a sigh of relief, complained to Sergei.

"You're usually pretty smart, aren't you? Why didn't you use Her Majesty the Empress to pressure the Grand Duke today? I must say, that trick really works."

Sergei ignored the other person, gave Gemma a look, and left.

He declined Naryshkin's invitation to continue drinking.

At the corner at the end of the corridor, he saw a slender figure waiting for him. He and she entered a room, and he pushed the girl towards the table...

An hour later, Sergei left the Winter Palace and went to the Cittadella market to find Victor.

He took out a bright silver pistol from his waist, removed the magazine, and found that there was only one bullet in the magazine.

The bullet that was intended to be used.

Victor looked at the pistol with a tender and gratified gaze, as if he were looking at a junior whom he had painstakingly raised to adulthood.

"This is the most perfect work I've ever created!"

He couldn't understand this miniature pistol, which was much smaller than a flintlock pistol, even the magazine was so small, yet the details of the bullet patterns were so exquisite.

"Your next task is to produce it and it," Sergei said, referring to the pistol and bullets.

"No problem, it's my pleasure."

"Just make them according to the standard of this gun, but first we need to make one that is one of a kind."

Victor asked, "What kind of thing do you want to make?"

Sergei pondered for a moment, then looked up: "Pure gold."

Victor was surprised, but then his blood boiled with excitement. The pure gold pistol would be a priceless work of art, the pinnacle of his skill.

He readily agreed, and Sergei left him enough money, but told him not to buy gold; he would have someone deliver the materials for the pure gold pistol in a few days.

Before Sergei left, Victor called him back and asked the question that had been on his mind: "Your Highness, I really can't help but ask, does this gun...do it have a name?"

Sergei stood at the door, and after an unknown amount of time, he left a name and departed.

"Its former name... was Desert Eagle."

The following day at noon, Sergei arrived at the Winter Palace and met a tired-looking Gemma.

"After you left, Your Highness, the Grand Duke only stayed in the bedroom for half an hour before coming out. He and the Grand Duchess did nothing..."

Gemma told Sergei everything she had overheard.

For the newlyweds, Catherine was undoubtedly the one in control. Elizabeth repeatedly reminded her that she bore the heavy responsibility of producing a new heir for Russia, which was closely related to whether she could remain Grand Duchess.

But last night, Peter stopped Ekaterina from untying her nightgown and, in the room, practiced marching for half an hour, mimicking soldiers in training.

"I heard the Grand Duke say that once they have a child, the Empress will take it away, raise the child as the new heir to the throne, and then the Grand Duke and Duchess will no longer be needed. They will be locked up in a convent."

Sergei had anticipated this.

Historical records and his investigation of Peter both point to this conclusion.

Peter's upbringing was disorganized, and after his parents died, his uncle, Adolf Frederick (who was also Catherine's uncle), became his guardian.

But the other party was a lazy, kind-hearted man who entrusted the important task of training Peter to Marshal Otto Brummer.

Brummer was violent and often mocked and physically punished Peter. He also had dietary problems, which led to Peter's nutritional imbalance.

In Peter's words: "Brummer is a devil. Sticks and whips are commonplace for me. He often makes me kneel on dry, hard peas for hours on end!"

It was Brummer's foolish disciplinary methods—endless violence and the pleasure derived from tormenting the child who might one day become King of Sweden (Peter was then the heir to the Swedish throne)—that created Peter into a cowardly, liar, and two-faced man.

Such a person only treats servants as friends. His distorted aesthetic sense, coupled with Elizabeth's threats, has led Peter to regard Catherine as the embodiment of evil, causing him to feel disgust and dare not approach her.

"Go on," Sergei gestured to Gemma.

"This morning when Matrena was cleaning the room, she saw bloodstains on the sheets, but she also noticed that the Grand Duchess had a cut on her palm and that her eyes were red and swollen, indicating that she had been crying for a long time."

Because she was constantly monitoring the room, Gemma was certain that the two of them had not had sex.

In her words: Neither of them were even naked.

Sergei nodded.

It was a consensus between Catherine and Peter that they had slept together, regardless of the bloodstains on the sheets or Peter's half-hour delay in leaving the room.

Before leaving, Sergei gave Gemma a small bag of rubles: "Get your father a better place to live."

Gemma was a servant who lived in the Winter Palace and could only leave the palace a limited number of times each month. Felice, on the other hand, was different. He frequented the palace with gardeners, scientists, painters, and others, and had his own residence.

Sergei had visited Felice's residence once; it was exceptionally simple—the clown's salary was meager.

"Thank you, Your Highness!"