‐ Why are you stopping?
What are you doing? I am close.
‐ Uh... I have been thinking.
‐ Well, unexpected, and ill timed.
‐ I have a few issues to table.
‐ The only issue is between my legs on this table.
‐ Witty, but I was thinking before you came in,
all week you have arrived for a good tongue lashing and I have provided one.
But you've also avoided me personally.
‐ I have not thought that is so.
‐ Mm.
Where is our marriage heading?
‐ Our what? ‐ Our marriage.
Am I to remain locked in this room?
‐ Yes! ‐ Yes?
‐ Asked and answered.
I have enjoyed our talk. Let us begin again.
‐ I enjoy your exquisite timing.
Um, but, for instance, when Paul comes?
I cannot be a prisoner while my child is wandering court free,
how do we explain that to Paul?
‐ I have not really thought that through to its conclusion.
I will no doubt come up with a brilliant and cunning answer.
Often, I think best during cunnilingus,
hence I suppose the word "cunning" within the word.
‐ Mm.
I am not satisfied.
‐ Nor am I.
But I could be.
‐ Would we not be happier if you just gave in to your savage longing
and admitted your love for me wholeheartedly instead of clitty bitty?
‐ Clitty bitty?
‐ Indeed.
I love you, you love me. I suggest you admit your love for me.
‐ Uh...
Peter, I am fond of you.
‐ I see, you are to toy with me longer.
It is a mean streak I do not appreciate, even though I appreciate them generally,
and it is dull, as we could be having more fun,
and much varied fornication and good times
eating chocolate‐dipped grapes while we bathe together and I toe‐fuck you.
Are you really to continue this pretense?
‐ Maybe this was a mistake.
‐ It is what you and your body want so how can it be a mistake?
Your head is the impediment.
I do not wish to quarrel but merely to have you give in to yourself.
Tell me the truth.
‐ You do not love me.
You think you do, but you do not.
‐ I know my heart. I love you.
‐ Stop saying it!
Yours is not a normal heart.
You are not capable of love.
Not real love.
Selflessness for another, tenderness, curiosity, intimacy.
‐ You fucking love me and I love you! That is the fucking truth!
‐ I don't love you.
I will never love you in the way you hope.
You killed Leo.
You are a violent person with a terrible French accent
who, while he eats pussy well and cares for his unborn child,
is still a mercurial maniac.
I am fond of you and that is why you still walk the earth.
Do not push me into a corner I do not wish to be in.
I am sorry to speak harshly.
Let us put it behind us, agree to our accommodations
as pleasing for all and finish me off!
‐ I knew you were ruthless, which I like, but I did not realize you were heartless.
‐ I have a busy day. Will you finish me or not?
‐ I will not.
‐ Then you may go.
I will no longer be needing your services.
‐ And I will no longer be giving them. Get the fuck out of my prison. ‐ It is my palace!
And I wish to finish myself off before I leave here.
Leave the room, or I will have you dragged from it.
‐ Well, I fear for Paul having a mother so heartless.
‐ Unbelievable. You're actually doing it.
‐ Amazing!
‐ Sorry, you're very distracting.
‐ That right? ‐ Always were.
‐ And yet I often walked into a room, and you did not see me.
‐ You were a serf.
I did not wish to embarrass you by bringing attention on it,
but trust me, I saw you.
I saw you every time.
Can I have my ball back, please?
Seems cruel.
‐ Unless it just means that's not the game you should be playing.
‐ It's just the game I was playing until the real game walked by.
‐ Don't follow me to my apartments, for I have no lock on the door
and am about to go lie naked on my bed.
‐ Right.
‐ Oh!
‐ Tea?
‐ Clearly not fucking tea. Thank you.
Is that an eye patch?
Sorry.
Mood's broken.
‐ Right.
Sure?
I could do some seductive talk or...
‐ No, I just‐‐ I‐‐ I have to do something I just remembered.
‐ Yeah.
‐ Another time. ‐ Yeah.
Seriously. Another time.
‐ That was quick.
I expected more from him.
‐ I need a walk.
Gosh.
That seems a kind assessment.
Distressing is mine.
Best look away before they shit in their hands
and then spend minutes perusing it for worms.
‐ And we make them nobles?
‐ Yes. Peter the Great instituted the idea.
He was worried the rise of the merchant class
and their pockets full of gold would start causing trouble.
‐ Seems a clever move.
‐ And lucrative to the state.
They pay five million rubles to be made noble.
You can pin a crown on a donkey, it is still a donkey.
‐ Are you a snob, Elizabeth?
‐ Of course all men are equal,
but that does not mean I have to retire my discernment about the individual men.
- Oh! - Girls!
I'm so sorry.
They have had too many marzipan cakes,
and also I suppose they have some issues around you.
‐ What?
Uh, girls, speak your truth.
‐ Will we be beaten?
‐ No. You won't be beaten. Or shot. Or tortured.
W‐When will people understand that?
‐ Rousseau says that there is a perfectness in nature
and that is our natural state
and instead we've created a society of repression and evil.
You were to fix Russia in line with Rousseau's vision, were you not?
‐ I am.
‐ Does not seem real.
You do not seem to be doing it.
Nadia!
‐ Um, let her speak freely, for that is what this school is about.
‐ Speaking freely? The espousal of ideas?
‐ Yes. ‐ But not the acting of them.
Are you not like a drunken father at a dining party
telling the world how it should change but doing nothing
but falling over at the end of the night in your own vomited and useless ideas?
‐ Oh, dear me. ‐ Gosh, you have a turn of phrase.
‐ As do you, Empress, but we're thinking that's all you have.
‐ Right.
Oh! ‐ Girls!
Go and stand over there and stare at art.
Sorry.
‐ Ow. The baby kicked.
‐ Kick back.
Bad joke.
‐ I am being attacked from all angles today.
Ah!
‐ Ah! I was just hoping to see you.
I have the proposal for the tariff reductions with Denmark.
‐ No time for the fascinating world of tariff reduction,
let us save it for when we are dead, which could be sooner than we realize.
‐ They were in order but not numbered, so‐‐
‐ Today!
What did I say?
‐ You yelled "today," even though I'm right here.
And y‐you have some cake‐‐
‐ Today! We do something meaningful today.
Look at our list, Orlo.
Our grand aims.
We took this country for a reason, so we must do something.
‐ You would like to make a splash.
‐ Free the serfs.
‐ Whoa. T‐The longest of, of long games.
‐ We free the serfs of the Russian Empire. In one stroke.
In one moment, 58 million people are freed from ownership and servitude.
Oh. That's a big morning.
‐ So is the civil war that follows.
‐ You exaggerate.
‐ It is unpicking the economic system of Russia.
Usually not done on the fly in a morning.
‐ But how electrifying if it was?
‐ Your passion and vision coupled with my caution and knowledge of Russia
got us into this room.
It can take us all the way.
‐ I did not do this to creep inch by inch, Orlo, and die after two inches.
Nor to seek the permission of all to enact fundamental reform.
‐ Let me finish our plans. I beg you.
You must till the soil before you can plant new crops.
‐ All right, fine.
‐ You summoned me?
‐ I have been a fucking fool.
‐ How so?
‐ She does not love me, will never love me, and the most head cracking revelation,
I do not fucking love her.
‐ Huzzah! ‐ I have been trying to change myself.
‐ When you are flawless. ‐ Exactly!
If it is love, why should I change? I should be loved for who I am.
‐ She's like your mother, mean to you,
and you throw your love into a dark empty hole.
‐ Well, fuck her, it is time to destroy her and move on with our lives.
‐ I love what I'm hearing.
‐ What have you been doing while you've rightfully left me alone to come to my senses?
‐ Ah, not much.
‐ Guards!
I want some crepes! And... something sweet.
Good day.
‐ You all right?
‐ Frustrated.
My reign is underwhelming, apparently.
And Peter is... hm, I hit him hard so...
‐ In the face with a knife, I hope. ‐ Not quite.
Perhaps too hard though.
‐ Oh, not possible.
I still don't understand, you have your pick of men at court.
‐ In the moment, it seems genius.
I have these moments where I just know what to do.
Or feel I do.
‐ Next time...
...resist.
‐ Why does your maid now have an eye patch?
‐ I don't know.
I couldn't ask because it will not be a happy story, will it?
There's no happy story involving the sudden appearance of an eye patch
and I do not wish to hear it.
She is a terrible maid.
‐ Well, where is Yula? ‐ Gone.
Shakey was in my room downstairs, and she... she drives me crazy,
but she's been moved from the house to the stables
and the next move will be a kick in the arse into the forest
to hunt for berries and squirrels to eat before being eaten by a fucking wolf.
‐ You feel for her plight.
‐ Exactly! And one should not.
I should be eating gold flecked raspberry cakes, gargling champagne,
and... being fucked hard on my impossibly soft bed.
‐ Do not be angry at yourself for feeling.
You lived their life. It has changed you.
‐ I do not want it to.
‐ It's what everyone should feel.
Shakey!
‐ Empress.
‐ How would you like to go to a banquet?
‐ What are you doing? ‐ Changing the world.
‐ I'm a bit nervous.
I look like a crazy person.
‐ You look like one of us.
‐ What happened to your eye?
‐ I saw the Prussian ambassador's wife had one last year.
I liked it.
So I stole it.
It's an affectation I suppose, but harmless.
‐ Fashion.
‐ Would you believe this bitch has an artistic temperament?
Everyone talks about her paintings. You should see.
‐ I would love to.
Where have you been?
‐ I was greeting my guest.
Orlo, Velementov, meet Lady Anastasia.
‐ Have we met before?
‐ Oh, perhaps in your dreams?
‐ Uh, it is unlikely.
Lady Anastasia abhors carriage rides and has never made the journey here.
Now, where are these soon‐to‐be nobles?
‐ This way.
Marial.
You must introduce us to the Empress's guest.
‐ This is Lady Anastasia.
She has been in Lisbon for years. ‐ Ooh.
‐ Wonderful. They have a port full of the most massive ships, I've heard.
‐ Indeed.
‐ Are they wonderful? ‐ Oh, indeed.
Beautiful.
As you are beautiful, madam.
Perhaps the prettiest at court.
I agree.
The rest of us are such trolls.
‐ Well, hello, new friend Lady Anastasia.
Sit by me.
‐ She seems half blind.
‐ How do you like Lady Anastasia?
‐ Um, she seems old.
Good, I suppose.
‐ She's Marial's maid. ‐ What?
Look at them, loving her.
She seems to be enjoying herself.
‐ What the fuck are you doing?
‐ Tilling the soil.
‐ What are you doing with Karine?
‐ Who? ‐ She also goes by Shakey.
That is recent naming though.
‐ Oh. You recognized her?
‐ One never forgets one's wet nurse.
Half the people in this room have drunk her milk.
‐ It is just a jape.
‐ My dear, I know you well enough that nothing is just a jape.
‐ It is a small jape to make a large point.
What makes us more noble than them?
‐ I love it.
Oh, look, she is making out with Doctor Smirnov.
‐ Ease up, you fucking whore.
‐ This is what you people do.
You're loose.
Just fitting in.
‐ Ladies and gentlemen.
I am new to these ceremonies,
but it has struck me as a wonderful way to gain new gifts and talents
to elevate our beautiful country.
As nobles we create ideas,
commerce, art, thought, politics.
But what of the human potential
that remains buried in the rest of our people?
The millions cast aside because of silly titles
that can so easily be changed?
What potential has gone unfulfilled here?
What could they gift to Russia?
For instance...
Lady Anastasia.
Rise please, Lady Anastasia.
She is a noble for today, dressed by me.
But she has spent her life as a serf.
Some of you know her as Shakey.
She has nursed, fed, cleaned for you for years.
But, ah, was that the best use of her talents?
What could she have brought to Russia? ‐ Fuck!
‐ What riches could she have added to us?
It is an interesting question and a fun jape.
I love you all. Good day.
Look at them, Marial. They are amazed.
‐ Some seem that way.
Others look more like you've just punched them in the face.
‐ Well, in many ways I have.
The amazement will come later.
‐ Brilliant.
‐ I know.
‐ Shh.
‐ Svenska, shall we call for tea later?
‐ Oh, I would love that.
But I will be busy hacking my fucking arm off because your serf touched it.
‐ A shame she didn't hug you, then.
‐ Hurry up, Yula.
Or shall I throw a stick ahead so you move a little faster?
A fun jape, my arse.
‐ That speech didn't sound like the end of an experiment,
it sounded like the beginning.
‐ An opportunity perhaps.
What's stronger?
The plans we don't know or the plans we can make up to scare people with?
‐ Second one.
‐ Then again, what if we had both?
"There are three principal means of acquiring knowledge:
observation of nature, reflection..."
This all right?
‐ I always found him a bit dry to be honest, but this is definitely more engaging.
‐ The intercourse or the discourse?
‐ Ah, coupled together and you, it is a different, somewhat heady experience.
‐ Sorry to interrupt.
We're here for your plans, Orlo.
‐ I‐I'm sorry?
‐ The Empress's plans for the serfs. ‐ She doesn't have any.
‐ Then what did you just side eye on your desk?
We're very happy to shoot you.
Though it seems a sad end to this strange, bookish love fest.
‐ I told her.
‐ Thanks.
Now put some pants on and come with us.
‐ Father Basil.
You have seemingly gone missing since publicly suggesting
the Empress was a demon woman sent to destroy Russia.
‐ It seems it has led to my undoing.
I have been relieved of my commission.
‐ So sad.
I think I'm tearing up.
‐ I feel I may have been played as a pawn by her.
And perhaps by you, as well.
‐ Basil.
You are a good man.
Your heart is pure.
‐ That is the aim, is it not?
‐ I suppose it is.
‐ I have enjoyed my time observing you, a brilliant man,
God's voice whispers in his ear, and yet...
something dark.
Is that just in you, or does the politics of court bring that out?
‐ Perhaps.
‐ Why should you serve them?
God is all and they should serve Him,
and yet your brilliance is spent
on finding a way to bring God to these fuckers.
‐ Indeed. ‐ You agree?
With a laugh. A joke.
‐ I do agree, but...
it is...
complex.
‐ You believe or don't, you are in truth or not?
‐ In some ways, perhaps,
your simple goodness has been a lesson to me.
I will‐‐ ‐ And what have you learnt?
‐ I don't like your tone.
‐ Are you a good man worthy of us?
‐ That did not feel pure, Father.
Pray on that.
Pure love.
That is God.
Who are you?
Goodbye, Patriarch.
It is difficult here.
Remember God's love always.
Why have we stopped?
‐ This one is yours.
‐ To clean?
‐ To have.
A gift from the Empress as thanks for the jape.
‐ My paintings!
Are you crying?
‐ Fuck off.
Will do.
‐ I am the happiest of men.
‐ It has been too long.
‐ Agreed. I feel like my old self.
Oh!
Oh.
‐ Oh.
‐ Empress! You no doubt have come for a tongue lashing.
Well, alas, my tongue is well lashed out. Is it not, Zasha and Vicki?
‐ Right. ‐ Ladies, have a crepe.
We will resume action once the Empress has said whatever incredibly dull,
self‐serving, heartless thing she has to say and then leaves.
‐ Mm. Well, it did not take you long to let go of your so intense love.
How deep and real it must have been.
‐ It was as real as a dog who is starved and beaten
and eventually dies of neglect.
Or perhaps it was a delusion, as you often suggested,
and as always, you were right.
So put that in your arrogant crown.
‐ Did he force you to fuck?
‐ I did not. They're not sex serfs.
I know you are hurt that you have lost yours.
‐ Oh, you are not my sex serf!
Serfs do not get entire rooms to themselves.
Or suckling pigs and French chefs cooking them fucking crepes.
‐ You know what is an ironie.
‐ Enough with the mangled French. It is unbearable.
What is an ironie?
‐ It is a fucking irony that you profess love for all humanity,
and serfs weirdly included,
as my maids did tell me of your fun jape at the lunch today.
‐ I am shifting the consciousness of the court to make a better Russia.
‐ By dressing Karine up like a puppet and mocking her and the nobles?
I mean what the fuck was that all about?
‐ It is fucking brilliant, is what it is.
It is to make us all think on the way we treat serfs,
and their position in our society.
Am I actually explaining this to you?
‐ Pointlessly I agree.
As there's nothing wrong with how we treat them.
They love it here.
‐ You. Serf.
Do you love having him shoot fruit off the top of your head?
‐ Oh, I'm not a serf, I'm a soldier.
‐ Mm. Right. Of course.
‐ You know us so well.
‐ Jean‐Pierre, do you love it
when he spits the food you have prepared back in your face?
‐ Oui.
How else will I know it needs work?
‐ Mm. Got to give feedback.
Communication is key.
Perhaps, as an outsider, you do not understand how it works.
They're like family to us.
‐ I do not spit at family.
‐ 'Cause you do not care for them.
If I did not care for Jean‐Pierre
and know that my happiness is his happiness and gave him nothing,
well, what a heartless insult.
Oui?
‐ Oui.
‐ Oh, fuck off.
I am changing this country, and the fact that you cannot even see what is wrong with it
is, of course, de rigueur.
‐ De rigu...?
‐ As completely fucking expected.
‐ Catherine? Two things.
Bravo on whatever was going on in there.
‐ Oh. It is not‐‐
‐ It is whatever your heart desires and none of my business.
I will let the fates play their hand.
Second, I think you'd best come to the state room with me.
The lunch seems to not sit well in some people's stomachs.
‐ What do they want?
‐ I don't know.
Any time one of them talks, the others start yelling.
I made them put their pistols in a bucket.
‐ It's times like these I am so glad you are my key military strategist.
Tread lightly, my dear.
We will be here if you need us.
‐ Gentlemen!
Do you have a representative?
‐ Empress. Empress. Forgive the mob.
We are here to object to your plans to free the serfs.
‐ Well, there's been a misunderstanding, then.
‐ Lying German bitch! You're going to break this country.
‐ We have no concrete plans.
Only an innocent jape that I hope you all enjoyed.
‐ So, you are telling us you have not thought any further than that? ‐ Indeed.
‐ You haven't written down, say, a 109‐page masterplan?
‐ Oddly specific, but no.
‐ Would you mind explaining these documents Orlo's given us, then?
They forced it out of me at fucking gunpoint!
‐ You set me up.
‐ Nothing personal.
Actually, that's probably a tiny bit untrue.
‐ A moment, gentlemen!
Are you all right? You seem a little red.
‐ I feel a little red.
Ow!
Everyone wants to kick me right now.
‐ Ponder that later. Act on this now.
You must explain that this is another of your experiments,
barely sketched out and open to change.
Forgive them their panic,
for it seems you wish to unpick the basis of everything they know.
You don't.
‐ If you could be quiet, I would like to explain.
‐ If you expect them to work for us, then someone's going to have to pay them.
Labor costs, the impact of which no one knows
other than to make our exports uncompetitive.
‐ The Turks will crush us on coal.
‐ We would figure all that out.
If we open our minds to it, I know we have the solution in this very room.
‐ We will be at the whim of those in‐breds.
‐ Who have rights.
Who are human souls with much to give.
‐ Oh! We run their lives!
Feed, house, instruct them, care for them,
and you think they want to do all of that for themselves
and in their down time, fucking contribute ideas of genius to Russia?
No offense, but it does sound like fucking madness when you add it all up.
Yes!
‐ Gentlemen, these papers‐‐
These ones?
Give us your word this will never happen, Empress,
and we will, of course, go back to honoring and supporting you.
‐ Gentlemen. Gentlemen.
Gentlemen! Listen or I'll fucking shoot you all.
I understand what you have read this evening seems alarming...
and upon reflection...
you are probably right.
I have been a lying German bitch.
Because I will be freeing the serfs.
Today!
And yes, I yelled that bit for effect.
And yes, you will pay them a wage, and they will buy goods and services
and create another economy
and they will strive for more and invest themselves in Russia
and the filthy stain of serfdom will be off your hearts
and unfortunately, you may actually end up richer.
But I actually don't care whether it costs you, it will be done!
And there's no amount of threat or spittle that you can aim at me
that will change my mind on that.
Get used to the future, gentlemen.
Because it's coming.
Ow! Who threw that?
Oh, God! Why are they throwing shoes?
‐ They hate you and I took their guns.
‐ Did that just happen?
Did you actually just free the serfs?
‐ I did.
I felt it was meant to happen today, and it has.
‐ What do we do? W‐What the fuck does freedom mean?
‐ We will discuss it. ‐ When? It's already been announced.
‐ Can I just make a comment?
We have the Ottomans on our doorstep
and instead of dealing with that, we're suddenly freeing serfs?
‐ It is why I am here. It's what I came to do.
Why else did we coup Peter?
‐ To get rid of him! He was a fucking disaster,
but at least Russia was a unified country.
‐ Velementov. Ease up.
‐ You cannot agree with this madness.
‐ Philosophically, I very much agree.
Obviously, the situation is not ideal.
‐ You knew my plans when we launched this coup.
‐ I... ‐ You what?
You believed I would not achieve my aims?
‐ I thought you would do more than most, which is...
It's...
not much, but...
you're better, I...
I've been drinking barleyed bourbon, it‐it affects me badly.
I...
M‐maybe I have overspilled my words.
‐ Your truth, you mean. Calmness is now called for.
Catherine, you have made your point, now it is time to draw breath.
‐ Agreed. The court has had a ripple of ideas sent through it.
Now best settle and think this through.
‐ The nobles will tear you to shreds if you do this.
‐ I have faith in people's hearts to be good.
‐ I have seen too much, as have all of us in this room,
bar one, to believe that.
‐ I'm asking you to trust me.
There is no such thing as comfortable progress.
These fuckers are too greedy not to make a deal.
Everyone will calm, I promise you, and in the morning, a new dawn.
‐ Oh, dear.
‐ Fucking understatement.
‐ Perhaps we should trust her.
She's had good instincts before.
‐ There's always a first time for a fuck‐up.
‐ She is mad and has played into my clever hands.
‐ We need to throw some logs on this fire. ‐ And then her, Orlo, and Velementov.
‐ Pugachev. ‐ The one and only.
‐ Lie in the bed as if you're sleeping.
‐ I shall.
Naked all right?
‐ No. Fuck me.
Animal.
Ah.
‐ People are fucking angry.
‐ A serf as a noble?
It's just... I mean, what a mockery that makes of breeding.
‐ Exactly.
Speaking of which, Count Millertil has married his sister,
but we're all to pretend they were actually cousins.
‐ Ah. Understood.
Oh, here he comes.
‐ She wants to change Russia, let us show her what a changed Russia looks like.
‐ Gentlemen, ladies, I give to you our one true Emperor.
At large, in the flesh.
Coming to our aid in our time of need.
‐ I have escaped!
Huzzah!
‐ And I have escaped because as the Emperor of Russia, chosen by God,
I must act when our Russia is threatened,
and when God sends an omen to me as well.
Yes, God's omen she killed,
basically kicking God in the balls
and proving herself an agent of evil bent on bringing our sunny,
fun Russia into a dark and boring era.
Fuck, haven't spoken publicly in a while.
Feels good, comes natural, but thirst making.
Oh. Always there, Josep. Good to see you.
Emperor.
‐ Let us talk about this fucking madness of bringing serfs into nobledom.
I mean, fuck me, apart from the sort of scattered,
illogical thinking only a pregnant devil could do,
and yes, I do now think she has a small crocodile in her and not a child.
So, let's put that "heir to the throne" shit to bed.
She is taking a squat on years of tradition.
The fucking serfs are as beloved as the most beloved of our pets.
And she would have them thrown into the world without us to care for them.
We feed and house them,
and when they need instruction, we use up our precious energies
to beat them into line so that they can serve us better
and be proud of their job and us.
Now, I see some who couped against me,
and I hope your eyes are open to your fucked‐up decision.
Now, do not beat yourselves on it.
She tricked me into loving her as she tricked you,
but our eyelids have been torn off and now we can all see.
So all is forgiven.
Except for you, Dimitri.
Don't show your cock to me and wank at me every time you pass my window, dickhead.
Now, where were we?
Josep, do we have hors d'oeuvres?
Merci.
Tomorrow morning, assemble in the halls protesting her rule.
Let her hear your voice.
Scream for her to abdicate and me to retake.
Dress nicely because we will have a party after,
where I will fuck any woman at court who demands it.
Huzzah! ‐ Huzzah!
Feels good, doesn't it? ‐ Mm. Forgot his power.
‐ Mm!
‐ Did he just say we will scream in the halls?
‐ Indeed. And he will fuck any woman that demands it.
‐ It seems an underwhelming plan given what she has put us through.
‐ I don't know. Seems all right to me.
‐ Madame Svenska? ‐ Serf. Stand, for God's sake.
‐ Ah.
I am so sorry, I‐‐ Do not argue.
For that is what you are, a dirty, old, rude serf
I recognized from the beginning.
If this is the Empress's message to us, then it is important we send one back.
Stab her.
‐ What?
‐ Am I unclear or are you dim? Stab her.
You are my serf, you will obey me. That is how it works.
Why have we all forgotten?
‐ I cannot do that.
‐ Fine then.
So lazy and so boring. I will do it myself.
Come now, Yula. I will need a bath.
For an old woman, there has been surprisingly much blood spray.
Hello?
Somebody help me!
You!
Take my shit!
‐ What? ‐ I cannot find my serf.
Take it. Now.
Wait!
Where are you going?
Lada?
‐ The serfs are on strike.
Un‐fucking‐acceptable.
‐ Arkady! Shit.
Come back!
‐ Come quickly. ‐ What is it?
‐ The serfs are on strike.
‐ We wait until we hear frenzied chanting and protest,
and then ideally, Arkady gets a mob to break down the doors
and bear me into the palace, and in a wave, we move through,
gathering force, killing if we must,
and finally, she will see she needs to acquiesce.
‐ And then you kill her. ‐ Imprisoned until Paul is born.
‐ You're a good dad.
‐ Ah. ‐ I'm starving. Where's breakfast?
‐ We're on strike, so I have the whole day to fuck.
‐ On strike? ‐ No breakfast?
‐ Brought you a blood orange.
‐ They've just stopped working. Or they're free, or fuck knows what.
Lada?
‐ I didn't announce anything officially.
‐ That's the thing about freedom, it lacks parameters.
‐ Ah! Don't look at me.
‐ What is the worst that can happen?
They have to butter their own bread and suck their own cocks for a day?
They can cry me a river and wash their own fucking clothes in it.
Marial, what is it?
This is my fault.
You didn't cut her throat.
I keep expecting her to sit up and yell...
and yell at me.
‐ I thought we were better than this.
‐ For a moment, so did I.
‐ Marial.
‐ Come here!
‐ Stop! Stop that!
Oi!
Look at their fucking contribution now, bitch!
‐ Back in the state room. Come.
‐ Fucking rude.
I have called up a battalion to put down the unrest.
‐ What do you mean "put down"? ‐ Are you all right?
‐ Shakey is dead. They fucking killed her.
‐ I heard.
‐ Velementov, you will find who killed Shakey,
and you will tear them limb from fucking limb.
‐ You threw her on the board, do not be angry when someone takes your pawn.
‐ Fuck you.
‐ It is done.
Now what is to be done next is your question of the moment.
‐ It's fucking clear what should be done next.
We must act to restore order. Now!
‐ I will not turn my guns on them.
‐ They are running amok. As are the nobles.
‐ Catherine, if you do not put a stop to it, what happens then?
I shall answer if it makes it easier. They kill us all, and you.
‐ Perhaps not.
P‐perhaps they vent rage until it's spent
and then we all get to look at each other and understand change must happen.
I lit the fuse and cannot back down.
Maybe chaos burns it down
and the new ground can have better built on it.
‐ The rebuilding will be on our graves.
It's not ideal, is it?
‐ I am with them.
Everyone sees what must happen.
‐ You are a noble, know that. They do.
‐ I am a human first. And I hoped you all were too!
We must think our way to a new answer.
‐ We were trying until your jape.
Chaos is unleashed,
and chaos is an uncontrolled storm with unintended consequence
and unimaginable damage.
‐ We cannot be afraid.
‐ We have given them nothing to hang change on, there is no structure.
‐ We can't let this happen.
‐ Catherine, you tried, but it is clearly not the time for this.
You must back away now.
You must side with the nobles and be seen to.
‐ I cannot.
‐ I heard chants of "Peter!"
‐ Catherine. Know when to step back.
‐ Am I being asked or told?
‐ You do not want to think on that question.
Just on the question at hand.
And on what you wanted to achieve
and if you die today, whether you will have achieved it.
‐ Everyone out a minute. W‐Wait outside the door.
‐ Time is of the‐‐ ‐ Go!
‐ All right, Josep?
‐ Emperor.
‐ Back to work, fucker!
‐ The moment is here. Back room, to the state room.
Go take her.
‐ It's all gone horribly wrong.
‐ I know.
‐ Shakey is dead.
‐ Fuck. Nice woman.
Fuck off, Arkady.
‐ Have you come to take it off me?
‐ Not today.
‐ Oh. Ah.
It's Paul kicking.
Velementov.
Do it.
Lock me in.
‐ What the fuck happened?
‐ It's hard to explain.
Will you be needing tea, Empress?
‐ Hello. May I borrow that?
‐ Is that you, Yula?
I asked for tea. I am a famously patient woman, but‐‐