01x08 - Meatballs at the Dacha

Episode transcripts for the TV show "The Great". Aired: May 2020 to present.*
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During the 18th century, Catherine the Great marries and Emperor and is forced to choose between her happiness and the future of Russia.
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01x08 - Meatballs at the Dacha

Post by bunniefuu »

Very good wheat yield in the Caucuses this year.

‐ Is all this studying going to make you dull?

‐ When I take power, I will know this country inside and out.

‐ That's good.

Door!

Husband. ‐ You missed breakfast.

‐ Yes. I did.

‐ I have something for you.

Wow.

‐ It's probably the biggest diamond in the world, and has an interesting story.

Forty‐two people d*ed finding it, digging it up, and transporting it from Siberia.

‐ From Siberia.

A vast Russian province encompassing Northern Asia.

Its terrain spans the tundra, coniferous forests, and is known for freezing winters.

But is a gateway for Russia through the Pacific Ocean, and therefore is vital to our future links to the Americas.

‐ Right. It is pretty, do you not think?

Thank you?

‐ For what?

‐ It's what you should say now, although me having to tell you is annoying, and speaks to me of what I suspected.

You're mad about me burning the serfs still.

‐ I disagreed. That is all.

‐ You disagreed publicly.

And filled yourself with pox pus. It cannot happen again.

Though I do not wish to quarrel, but agree you were wrong, and that the diamond is pretty, and move on.

‐ It is pretty. Thank you.

We shall be as one in public.

‐ Huzzah.

Shall I eat your p*ssy?

‐ I... have blood.

‐ Which I like in a sausage, but not a p*ssy.

Another day, then. Uh, where's that young serf kid?

The parachute boy.

‐ You b*rned him.

‐ Oh. Must go.

Door!

Hey. ‐ Good day, sir.

‐ Running?

Seven miles through the beautiful forest.

I feel better.

‐ You felt bad?

‐ Some melancholy.

Chekhov thinks I have yellow bile inside me, and must sweat it and bleed it out, which reminds me...

‐ I think all my biles are at odds.

Melancholy, rage, giddy joy, all at once.

I, I feel better. I...

The palace is huge, and it hems one in somehow.

‐ Sometimes you can feel the walls reaching for you.

And the guards at the doors, I often suspect, are actually dead.

‐ Right. Funny.

You're growing a beard.

‐ Forgot to shave.

‐ Ah.

Being the Emperor's best friend has its special perks.

‐ Indeed, it does. I have a magnificent estate, vineyards, carriages...

And I love him.

‐ Tha‐‐ That's the greatest part. ‐ My love for him.

And her.

‐ Are you okay?

‐ Aah.

‐ Dust storm. ‐ What?

‐ When I was a child. Never got the f*cking grit out.

Look.

‐ Wow. That is...

Ooh!

‐ Mm. ‐ f*ck!

You're right.

The trees are calming.

‐ I recommend we att*ck in a week, on the full moon.

With the, uh, Emperor's blessing.

‐ We will win.

‐ I actually received a note this morning, Emperor.

The Swedish ambassador wishes to come to court tonight for dinner.

‐ He is the enemy, and we have to throw him a f*cking party?

‐ We should focus on why he wants to talk.

It is a sign.

I have him on the ropes.

‐ Jesus Christ, fatso. That's how you fight?

Run.

‐ What? ‐ f*cking run.

Run!

The Church has poured so much money into the w*r against these Lutherans, and will continue to, of course, but the fact that Velementov cannot quite win...

I can f*cking win!

‐ I'm an admirer of faith, and yours is very moving, but starts to smack of delusion.

‐ Right. Orlo?

‐ I am on the fence.

Of course you are, lobcock.

This is what we will do.

At the banquet, we cut the ambassador's head off, fill it with meatballs, and send it back to Sweden.

‐ Personally, I f*cking love that.

‐ It is as witty and eloquent a "f*ck you" as I have heard.

Huzzah! I'm not sure.

To rile one's enemy and mock their national dish, it seems‐‐

‐ Velementov, shut up. You and Tartar Nick will work out the logistics.

It will be a joy for the court, and be spoken of in the villages. Humph.

‐ Hello. I've brought some wheat.

‐ Why?

Seriously? ‐ It is a fool‐proof pregnancy test.

The wheat blooms almost instantly.

Hmm.

I hope you're not barren.

That would not go over well.

‐ Sounds ominous.

‐ Not at all. Foolish of me to say it.

I will bring wheat every day, and one day, you will piss a crop of baby.

I feel your fertility from here.

‐ The Battle of Vladivostok.

‐ What? What?

‐ It is a battle my father spoke of.

A famous win.

The first you commanded.

He said you were a genius.

‐ Oh.

Long time ago.

‐ Do you believe in fate? Destiny?

‐ When you're young, you have hope and call it destiny.

When you're old, it becomes fate.

‐ I wish to show you something.

Look on my inner thigh.

‐ I, I am.

Indeed I am. I‐‐ ‐ This birthmark appeared on my skin.

Do you recognize the shape?

‐ I'm struggling with, um, a lot feelings.

Uh, the smell of jasmine seems to be in the air, so... focusing is a b‐‐ ‐ The shape!

Think of a map!

‐ It, um...

It is, uh... is Russia.

‐ Yes.

It just appeared.

It must mean something. Do you not agree?

‐ It, it is odd. Uh...

‐ Fates and destiny.

That's what it feels like.

In my heart, I am Russian.

I wish to help us.

Perhaps you can help me.

‐ In what way?

‐ Let's plan.

‐ It's f*cking stupid.

‐ Let's plan.

‐ What is it?

‐ The Emperor. He's, he's going to cut the Swedish ambassador's head off at the dinner, and fill his skull with meatballs, and return him to the Swedes.

‐ That is mad.

‐ I am no friend of the Swedes, but, um... it will make them a more determined and intractable enemy, and...

I should examine your, uh... map... more closely at a later date.

‐ You should just ponder what it means. ‐ Yes.

Indeed.

‐ We will talk further.

Emperor comes. They sit. You hold. I cut.

‐ Jesus Christ.

‐ I love this choir.

‐ The Chernobyl Girls' Choir is our finest.

They glow.

Thank you for the diamond. It is in my pocket.

‐ You like it? ‐ I stared at it all day in wonder.

At it. At you.

‐ Thanks. It's going to be a fun night.

‐ There is a whisper you are to cut the ambassador's head off and fill it with meatballs.

‐ Oh, it is supposed to be a fun surprise!

‐ I don't think many know.

It is a brilliant jape.

‐ Humph. ‐ And no doubt you will fill his eye sockets with lingonberry jam.

‐ Add a condiment. Brilliant.

‐ The Swedes have come to you.

That shows the court you are strong, and they are weak.

‐ Right.

‐ You negotiate a peace now, you will be victorious, and everyone will be relieved, and awed.

‐ Awed? That seems good.

‐ And no more orphans. Joy everywhere.

‐ Right. A‐and you?

‐ I will be awed, too.

‐ Hmm.

‐ No!

I mean no... to pomme dauphine without goose.

Sauté the potatoes, please.

Oh, Ambassador. We must talk.

I hear the king wants to meet.

Yes. Oh. Much to discuss.

‐ Are you okay? You were not at the dinner.

‐ Figured I would not be missed.

And was busy.

‐ You taste of‐‐ ‐ Plums.

Plum vodka. I made it.

‐ Delicious.

‐ Let us just regale each other with anecdotes of our day.

I went to Bezarov's wedding.

A lesson in doomed optimism, but almost sweeter for it.

Did a vodka testing with some chaps.

Then I ran the perimeter of the grounds four times, and Grigor sh*t a bird, and... seems odd.

You?

‐ Just duties.

‐ Fascinating.

Do not overload me with such detail.

‐ It is too dull to speak of.

How is your bile? ‐ Better now.

Ran it out and bled it out.

‐ Are you okay? ‐ Yes.

You?

‐ Is your tree dying?

‐ A little, I think.

Ah! Oh, birthday cake for Tatyana.

Oh! And a, a toast.

Oh! ‐ Huzzah.

Huzzah!

Thank you, Emperor. And look what Arkady bought for me.

‐ It is gorgeous. ‐ Oh. As are you.

It is not my blood diamond, but is nice in a bourgeois way.

Have I ever f*cked you, Tatyana?

‐ When we were young.

‐ Arkady, I may have to f*ck your wife sometime.

‐ And I may have to cut your f*cking heart out.

‐ So, you will meet the king, and end the w*r.

‐ How great that would be.

‐ They will capitulate, and no doubt he will cry a little bit.

I have a gift.

‐ Mm. For me?

‐ For the Emperor. ‐ Huzzah, Grigor. Bring it forth.

‐ I don't get it.

‐ It is your bird. The amazing one.

‐ The one I saw at the bird bath? The same.

I saw it and thought, you love it, you should have it.

It's not a jape, Arkady.

‐ Right.

Well, bravo. I mean, it's lost a little of its luster now it's filled with sh*t.

‐ My idea is you can put it up in your breakfast room next to the hog, or just grill it and consume it with some salt and pepper.

‐ Huzzah, friend. It's f*cking weird, but comes from the heart.

I am exhausted. I shall depart, as you and Georgina must ride into the night.

‐ Are you okay?

‐ Tippity top. I shall see you in the morning.

‐ Not much meat on it for grilling.

‐ Soup?

‐ Hmm.

‐ Hey, shall we breakfast in the woods?

Maybe we could run the forest. It's exhilarating.

‐ Alas, I have to go with Peter to the peace talks.

The Swedish king and queen are meeting us at a dacha to discuss the end of the w*r.

‐ Sounds fun.

‐ Maybe you could come.

I could talk to him. ‐ No.

Sounds serious, and I try to stay away from such things.

Have fun. I must run.

‐ Do not pretend.

‐ Of course.

‐ We are... strange.

‐ It's probably just me.

Yellow bile buildup. Walls closing in a bit.

‐ Leo? ‐ Yes?

‐ I love you.

‐ And I you.

And that, I will never run out.

He's been here all night.

You have him where you want him.

‐ This is not where I want him.

I wish to dazzle him with fate and destiny, and my knowledge of our problems.

‐ Sounds dull.

Put that diamond in your c**t and spread your legs.

That will dazzle him properly.

‐ Marial, I will not f*ck my way to support.

‐ It is nine o'clock. By 9:15, you can have Velementov and the m*llitary.

Albeit, you'll be covered in drunk sweat.

‐ No. ‐ May not even take that long.

9:05, including foreplay.

We can bathe you immediately.

This will not happen without sacrifice.

‐ And what about Leo?

‐ He will not know, and will one day benefit.

‐ And how do you suffer for the coup?

‐ My impatience for it eats away at me, as does my station.

‐ Let him sleep.

‐ In a way, it is bad for us.

Peace. It'll make Peter more popular.

Harder to dislodge.

‐ I'm going to pretend you didn't say that.

‐ Just giving you the unvarnished political reality.

It is called the long game.

‐ I am simply there to garner Velementov's support.

One other thing. I need to tell Leo of the coup.

‐ What?

‐ He's not a f*cking spy, Orlo. ‐ Too good‐looking.

I have said it before. And sweet.

‐ Because the perfect spy is an ugly one with no charm, of course.

‐ It is putting a wedge between us. ‐ No!

‐ Orlo‐‐ ‐ You swore a blood oath, as did I.

You made me cut myself, and it really hurt, and I fainted.

I am holding you to it.

‐ He is in pain. ‐ So that is a cost you must bear.

For if he is not a spy, his patience will be rewarded.

If he is a spy, his patience will be an asset in making you give in at some point. Possibly this point.

‐ I love him.

‐ He made me a posy of flowers on a walk the other day for my room.

He was very sweet.

‐ Women! Oh!

‐ Shall I punch him, or you?

Let's go.

‐ No. No, no, no. You‐‐ You promise not to tell him?

‐ I did. I do. Let's go.

‐ What do you want? Where's the Empress?

‐ I will ride with you.

Due to security concerns, you cannot ride together.

‐ Right. Annoying.

‐ I came to see you last night.

‐ You did? How sweet.

I was detained by reading.

You have 7,000 troops surrounding Hango.

It is a seaport vital for trade.

The Swedes cannot lose it.

But it would be a boon for us.

Looking at the map, it seemed a combination of infantry, and rolling cannons from the left front, would be the best bet on a thrust.

The way your mouth moves, silky and pert. Say more.

‐ Unnerving?

‐ Very.

‐ Excellent. Let's add the handshake.

‐ Ah, f*ck! Ow. Jesus.

‐ So, King of Sweden, you are smaller than imagined, but it is a pleasure to meet you.

We have spilled too much blood, and perhaps not enough wine.

Let us see if we can rectify that.

‐ Oh, sh*t. Uh, that, that's actually quite good.

‐ Oh. Arkady wrote it.

He is fertile of children, and word.

‐ The danger would be if the Swedes fell back into the market area, as they would be hard to dislodge.

So there is some sense in perhaps drawing them out somehow, with a feint of some sort.

A weak initial att*ck from the front... ‐ Your hair.

‐ ...that gathers them to a place we want them, ‐ The sun... dances with it... like nymphs.

‐ For if we are to win, you must have the support you need.

And I wonder whether you are well enough supplied if the action took us through to the winter, and whether‐‐ ‐ Your eyes...

They‐‐ ‐ What about them?

‐ Pools... so deep a man could drown in them.

But happily so. ‐ Stop.

I am not a pretty jasmine flower, with swimming pools for eyes, you fat f*ck.

‐ Oh, your fire. Your cheeks... bloom.

‐ I am terrifying.

‐ We've stopped.

‐ Is it an ambush? Use your body to shield me.

‐ I could not bear to be away from you.

‐ Of course you could not. Huh.

If you ever get a woman, Orlo, give her a diamond. That is all.

f*ck off out of our carriage.

‐ What is your strategy?

‐ Here he is. Huzzah!

‐ So, King of‐‐ ‐ Come here.

Oh. Hello.

‐ Huh. ‐ And Empress Catherine.

Glowing like the f*cking sun.

‐ King Hugo. Queen Agnes.

We just saw fish jump out of the water, and back in.

I mean, f*cking leaping fish!

We should get g*ns, and sh**t them as they're in the air.

‐ Brilliant.

‐ We've been talking for minutes, and no one's offered us a drink.

What do two kings have to do to get a drink around here?

‐ We have spilled much blood. It is time we spilled some wine.

‐ Huzzah! But please tell me you brought some proper Russian vodka.

I long for it. ‐ Ah, I'm sure we have.

If not, we shall cut General Velementov open and drink his 90 proof blood.

And then we'll cut General Ekberg open, pull out his liver and eat it, 'cause it's as fat as the finest foie gras!

‐ I love foie gras! ‐ Me, too!

This is great!

Fish!

‐ I admire your country very much.

‐ You do?

‐ You have the printing press, strong education, and some democratic process.

‐ Yes. All my brilliant husband's work.

‐ I hope we can learn from you.

‐ Aren't you sweet?

Be careful.

It has unleashed both beauty, and horror.

The full gamut of people's f*cked‐up‐ness and hate.

I see.

‐ I suspect they are now coming for us.

Will k*ll both of us and take the country.

And all because my idiot husband gave them knowledge.

A means to disseminate dissent.

And then some of the levers of power. Oh, sh*t!

f*ck! ‐ Oh. Right.

‐ Hopefully we can end this w*r. That will calm things down.

Oh, f*ck!

‐ Your husband is very handsome.

‐ Thank you.

‐ Would you mind if I...

‐ You mean...

‐ Many roads to peace. For a country, and a woman.

You hit him in the mouth.

‐ He said I have eyes like pools.

‐ Well, that seems complimentary, rather than a comment to elicit v*olence.

‐ If you were a woman, you would understand.

‐ Right. So...

‐ So, I will try again.

‐ And perhaps not hit him in the mouth?

A leader has self‐control.

‐ I will do the leading.

You continue arranging papers on the table.

‐ That is uncalled for.

‐ You have beautiful lips.

So plump.

‐ What, what are you talking about? ‐ And pretty hands.

‐ Be serious.

Ha!

‐ I see.

‐ With your pretty, amethyst‐like eyes.

I hate the first parade of the new recruits.

The worst.

Their bright, shiny faces all dreaming of the future.

‐ I salute them and imagine the ripped faces, and... broken heads and bleeding stomachs.

‐ The shocked look on their faces when they hit the front.

That "oh, f*ck" moment.

Well, now we've depressed each other. I shall depart.

‐ Cheers.

I shall sh*t and think on how I shall destroy you in Hango.

‐ I shall think how I can destroy you in Kyrol.

Sleep well.

‐ Never do.

Evening, General.

‐ Empress. ‐ Oh, don't get up.

I'm sorry I hit you in the mouth.

I want to be friends. ‐ No apology necessary.

A failure to take territory is second nature to me now.

I, uh...

I shall, uh... give up the idea of laying with you.

‐ Perhaps I will give you a different vision to hold onto.

Orlo apparently joked with you that he and I were planning a coup.

‐ Yes. Very funny.

‐ What if it wasn't funny?

What if it was real?

‐ You would be playing a dangerous game.

And possibly a futile one.

You are a‐‐ ‐ If you say pretty, I will smack you again.

‐ Not a leader.

I saw it when Peter was poisoned. Your legs went.

As if you were suddenly at sea.

‐ That is... true.

But I am different.

This place could be better.

You could be better.

You could win this w*r.

I know it. I see it in you.

‐ Well, if you do, it is a fading shimmer of what I was.

You know, my lust for you is not‐‐ It's not for you, in a way.

It's for your youth.

Your hope. Your, your aliveness.

I cannot find this in me anymore.

‐ I believe you can find them again.

‐ Because you are a delusional optimist. We have that in common.

But you are not a leader.

So drop this, and stay alive.

Anyone in this court could turn on you.

Including me.

‐ You won't. ‐ That's the thing.

You just don't know that.

Empress.

‐ What are you doing?

‐ I've called for 104 melons.

As Peter's best friend, it is my right.

‐ 104 melons. Why?

‐ I like them. I should have what I like.

‐ You haven't shaved yet.

‐ No. ‐ You must.

I know!

I'm now going to run in the forest.

I may have yellow bile, but also possibly green.

‐ Are you all right? ‐ I just told you I have yellow bile, and possibly green, so no. ‐ Okay. Sorry.

‐ Why can't you listen?

‐ I am. I am.

I'm worried about you.

The bird.

The beard‐‐ ‐ The bird was a gift.

I thought it went over well. I am fine.

I'm just going to run.

‐ Grigor.

I'm sorry.

That I didn't listen.

‐ It's quite all right. Banish it from your beautiful head.

On the bed.

‐ Anchovies, bread and butter. f*cking heaven.

‐ You ever have dreams where... no one will listen to you?

You walk through towns and villages and no one obeys you?

‐ Never. Sounds chilling. ‐ f*cking are.

How is it, now your father's gone, just being alone with everything?

‐ Well, I‐‐ ‐ For me, it's hard.

And it's been ten years. Honestly... he was better at it than me.

And the f*cking people are still always comparing us.

‐ That, that is what I have dreams about.

I walk with him, and no one sees me.

And then he turns, and he can't see me.

‐ And my father was not the enormous shadow yours is.

‐ Humph. ‐ I don't know how you do it.

Peter the f*cking Great.

At least my dad was Olaf the Okay.

Yeah.

It is a wait. Like the w*r.

No, I just wanted to kick off my reign with a big win, and instead, we're f*cking mired for years.

‐ I know. We've got to get out of the sh*t.

Huh? And enjoy wine, and food, and p*ssy.

‐ It is nice to talk to a fellow king. Huzzah.

‐ Let's go toss the Generals in the lake.

‐ We trialed the printing press for a short time.

‐ I know. ‐ You do?

‐ How else would we know you f*cked a horse?

‐ What?

I did not.

‐ Doesn't matter if you did. Now people think you did.

What we discovered, the first lie wins.

‐ Hmm.

I do like you.

‐ Hugo is a delight.

And Agnes, I need to f*ck against a tree.

‐ They are a fascinating couple.

‐ They will be our first royal couple friends.

He totally understands me.

‐ I think you will end this.

And be a hero to our people.

Thinking about your father?

The end of your first w*r. He is not here to see it.

‐ Yes.

How'd you know?

‐ You're my husband.

Good luck.

‐ Well, it's mostly wolf fur, with a leopard skin lining.

Let me see.

‐ Right? ‐ It's really nice.

‐ Yeah. ‐ Shall we?

‐ Yeah. ‐ Oh, God.

‐ I think we both want to put an end to the bloodshed.

Mostly because we want to go eat fried fish and drink white wine together.

‐ Huzzah. With a saffron aioli.

‐ Yes! Love aioli.


And as neither of these old fucks can win, nor do they seem able to lose, we should come to a deal.

‐ We are in a very‐‐ ‐ Shut up.

Agreed.

‐ You have sway with Poland, and with Denmark.

‐ Of course. They love me.

‐ I suspect you wish us to seek an end to the trade embargo with, uh‐‐ Was I talking to you?

Manage your people, for f*ck's sake, Peter.

‐ Orlo, shut up.

Yes, of course we can.

And you must f*ck off out of... You know. W‐where is it?

‐ Russia.

I will move my men out of Kyrol.

‐ This is capitulation. We own that place. ‐ Shut it, Anders.

Yes, f*ck off, Anders.

I thought this would be difficult, but actually, negotiations are easy.

Maybe I'm just good at it.

‐ Mm. ‐ You know, I say what I want, you say what you want, and we both agree.

‐ Huzzah. ‐ Huzzah.

And of course, St. Petersburg.

‐ What?

‐ St. Petersburg.

‐ I say again, what?

And you shall note the f*cking shift in my tone.

I know it seems big, but...

St. Petersburg was always Swedish.

For 400 years.

Until your father stole it from us 30 years ago.

Stole it?

He f*cking won it.

You f*cking lost it, and then he turned a sh*thole into a grand f*cking city.

‐ I know you don't want to live under the past glories and failures of your father.

Peter, honestly, as your friend, if you seek a clean slate as Emperor, the best thing for you to do is to give St. Petersburg up.

‐ Hugo...

Why are you ruining everything? ‐ Peter, that city is a monstrous shadow.

It's his city.

It's his victory. None of it yours.

All of it contextualizing you as a... puny leader of skinny achievement.

‐ Did you just call me puny?

‐ No, but when placed against him, of course it looks that way.

Ask your people.

‐ What? Ah‐‐ sh*t.

‐ I... You are... It, uh, ooh, and, you and he‐‐

‐ Thanks for making my point, blusterguts.

Now, you go to Moscow...

You make that your base.

That is the new center of Russia.

From there, you can be your own man. You can be your own Emperor.

And build your own Russia.

I'm doing you a favor, here. Hmm.

It's interesting. ‐ Yeah.

‐ Let me just think on it for a moment. Okay.

Here's your peace deal, you f*ck!

f*ck!

Yes! Suck on that!

You f*ck!

Ow! No! Ow! Ow! Ow!

Ow! That's my head! Bite me? You're biting me! Get off!

Ow! It's a girls' tactic! Girls' tactic!

Okay, fine! Fine!

f*ck you!

f*ck!

‐ It is frustrating to wait outside the doors, is it not?

‐ You would rather witness their idiocy?

‐ I would rather‐‐ f*ck you, you Swedish sh*t!

You're going to drown in the blood of your people.

‐ I'm sorry you feel that way, mama's boy!

You know my father f*cked your mother in the face after a state dinner?

In the face!

‐ There's 30 million of us, and only two million of you.

I don't care if four million of us have to die to k*ll two million of you.

We're Russian. We don't give a f*ck how many of us die.

‐ What has happened?

‐ Empress, your husband is a fuckwit.

If this is news, I apologize, although I doubt it is.

‐ Does this mean lunch is canceled?

‐ And me f*cking you against a tree, also canceled. We're leaving.

f*ck.

Oh, sorry. Sorry. I'm just...

You okay?

Vlad.

This f*cking place.

‐ I agree entirely.

A love letter? ‐ No. Uh...

‐ I won't read it. You have my word.

‐ Marial.

Well, it's either milky knit, or... silky clit?

You fucker. You're leaving.

‐ I am going home for a while. I have yellow bile, and‐‐

‐ She's‐‐ ‐ Tiring of me, and it is not something I wish to watch slip away.

‐ She's busy.

‐ Perhaps. But why now, and not before?

I don't get it.

The church, m*llitary, the regions, the court.

How to win each.

How to take power.

‐ She's... ‐ k*lling the c**t.

She will take it.

‐ Wow.

‐ You'll forgive her her distractedness.

She's a little busy trying to make life better for all of Russia.

‐ Get in. ‐ We cannot leave.

‐ I have decided what we are doing.

‐ You can win this.

‐ I will. In oceans of f*cking Swedish blood!

New plans immediately, Velementov.

I have extensive plans for a massive offensive in Hango soon, sir.

‐ My plan is we just grab a million people, they all walk into Sweden, and k*ll everyone they see.

That's the f*cking plan, fatso.

‐ We can do it strategically. To avoid so much bloodshed.

‐ I do not wish to avoid bloodshed.

What part of that plan do you not understand, you roly‐poly fuckhead?

What the‐‐? ‐ A mosquito on your face.

I do not want it to infect royal blood.

‐ Right. Thanks.

Anyway, f*cking terror is the new plan, so that every man, woman, and child in Sweden would rather run into the sea and drown than face us.

‐ You are going back with failure, then.

‐ What? ‐ The court has high hopes.

It will have drifted out to the people this is happening.

You go back with more w*r.

I don't want them to hate you.

‐ They don't hate me.

They don't. And when we win‐‐ ‐ They will have lost even more of their fathers and sons.

You're angry. Do not let that drive you.

Go back and try again.

For me. Please.

‐ I will not.

‐ If he will apologize, and you will‐‐ ‐ He won't apologize.

‐ He will.

And then you will lay out your plan for victory.

‐ The bloodshed plan? ‐ No.

You talked in your sleep last night.

And you had a brilliant plan.

‐ I did? In my sleep.

‐ You did.

Let me get him back in the room.

‐ All right, with an abject f*cking apology.

‐ Why are you trying to put this back together?

To give him a victory is... dumb.

‐ Your long game. ‐ Exactly.

You are still walking.

I am.

‐ Ah, Empress! f*ck off.

‐ You need peace more than we do.

‐ You've been on the cusp of defeat for two years.

One lucky break and we'll be pissing in the street in St. Petersburg.

‐ And what beautiful streets they now are.

You would barely recognize them.

‐ That's funny. ‐ Agnes...

‐ It's funny, Hugo.

You think if you bring St. Petersburg home it will wow everyone?

‐ It will. You need the embargo lifted, so your economy flourishes.

Because you languish now, and your people vent their displeasure.

‐ Did you tell her that?

‐ I like to chat. That's just me. ‐ Unbelievable.

‐ The freedoms you believe in are wonderful.

But you need a break, or they will wash your floppy blond self into the sea.

‐ She better mean my hair.

Or did you chat about that, too?

‐ You're under a lot of pressure.

Do the deal and I bet you could f*ck me against a tree.

I do admire you both.

Your courage.

You have lived dangerously, giving freedoms.

And with that, you need to convince them they still need you.

He does not care how many Russians die.

The numbers are simply not on your side.

‐ Understand this.

I am happy to die for what I believe in.

But I am also happy to not to.

Shall we go?

Here they come.

‐ I am... sorry.

‐ Sorry, the wind is rushing in my ears.

I didn't catch‐‐ ‐ No! Peter.

‐ If I hear the words "St. Petersburg,"

I will cut your heart out and grill it on that fire and eat it with a squeeze of lemon and some marsh weed.

Hango and Vyborg are both about to become long and bloody sieges.

Thousands will die, and it will drag on.

‐ I believe we will break them. ‐ As do I.

‐ Shut up, both of you.

Last night, the Emperor talked in his sleep, and he cracked what seemed impossible.

‐ I did? I did.

For the thing is, you must both leave here with a victory.

So we shall both have one.

There are two battles in stasis.

Instead of unleashing them, we both walk away.

Russia claims a massive victory in Vyborg, you in Hango.

We use the press and the pulpit to disseminate it.

‐ We have a free press.

‐ Idiotic.

‐ The first lie wins, I've come to understand.

‐ Pithy.

‐ We will use that for good.

Once you put out the story, it will be what people believe.

Any sniping at it will be unpatriotic.

We then announce the treaty. To each people, it looks like a win.

We each agree not to contradict the other, and each country only refers to the battle they won, and ignores the other.

The map reverts to its per‐w*r state, giving Russia back its land.

‐ Mm. ‐ We get the trade embargo lifted.

We put this behind us.

We are all winners.

‐ Except for the 118,000 dead.

‐ And 180 for us.

We cannot bring them back.

As the Emperor movingly mumbled in his sleep last night.

‐ He said that? I did.

This is my plan. I believe it works for both of us.

Do we have a deal?

‐ We do.

‐ Huzzah. Victory for all.

Humph. Who wants some fish?

‐ You seem in a mood.

‐ What an astute judge of character you are.

‐ Do you not wish a peace? ‐ I wish to win.

To make it worth the blood spilled.

‐ I can offer you what you need.

‐ More vodka?

‐ Redemption.

What if you had one more chance in your life, General?

One more.

‐ You hate w*r.

‐ Yes.

But I know it is often inevitable.

And when it is so, you fight it like a wounded tiger with blood in its nostrils.

‐ Well said.

‐ Join me.

Because you are a man with a good heart, who does not deserve to die with "fatso" ringing in his ears.

And a pointless body count in his dreams.

‐ Stop.

I just watched you do a deal that made the body count pointless.

‐ And saved adding to it.

‐ You're dangerous.

And... treasonous.

Sir.

‐ Aah. Fatso.

‐ Any vodka spare?

‐ I will not get in your way.

But I cannot join you.

‐ Why not? ‐ I'm done.

As a man. As a leader.

‐ I do not believe you.

We can change everything.

But most importantly, ourselves.

I will fight for my destiny.

And you will do it with me.

‐ Perhaps you are terrifying.

‐ Thank you. It is a compliment I appreciate.

‐ Who do you have so far?

‐ Orlo, and my maid, Marial.

‐ That's it?

‐ And now you.

‐ A maid, a bureaucrat, and a drunk.

‐ Yes.

‐ f*ck it. Yes. Why not?

Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter!

‐ Thank you.

‐ What for?

‐ I know I don't talk in my sleep.

Grigor?

‐ Huzzah!

Oh! Right. Ah!

‐ I'm telling Leo.

‐ No, no. ‐ It's not a discussion.

I cannot do this and look in his eyes with a f*cking lie in my heart.

‐ I, I think‐‐ ‐ It seems like you are about to start a discussion, when that is not what is happening here. ‐ I mean, you are... something today.

‐ Leading.

I am leading.

‐ All right.

We may all die, but apparently, feeling good about ourselves is more important than mitigating risk.

‐ Glad you understand.

Well?

‐ Huzzah.
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