The Great (2020) s01e08 Episode Script

1
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 died 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 pussy?
I
have blood.
Which I like in a sausage,
but not a pussy.
Another day, then.
Uh, where's that young serf kid?
The parachute boy.
You burned 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 fucking grit out.
Look.
Wow. That is
Ooh!
- Mm.
- Fuck!
You're right.
The trees are calming.
I recommend we attack 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 fucking 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?
- Fucking run.
Run!
The Church has poured so much money
into the war against these Lutherans,
and will continue to, of course,
but the fact that Velementov
cannot quite win
I can fucking 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 fucking love that.
It is as witty and eloquent a "fuck 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.
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 fucking 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.
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 shot 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 fucked you, Tatyana?
When we were young.
Arkady, I may have to
fuck your wife sometime.
And I may have to cut
your fucking heart out.
So, you will meet the king,
and end the war.
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 shot.
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 fucking 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 war.
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 cunt
and spread your legs.
That will dazzle him properly.
Marial, I will not fuck my way
to support.
It is nine o'clock. By 9:15,
you can have Velementov and the military.
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 fucking 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, fuck! 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, shit.
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 attack from the front
- Your hair.
- that gathers them to a place
- The sun
- we want them.
- 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 fuck.
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.
Fuck 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 fucking sun.
King Hugo. Queen Agnes.
We just saw fish jump
out of the water, and back in.
I mean, fucking leaping fish!
We should get guns,
and shoot 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
fucked-up-ness and hate.
I see.
I suspect they are now coming for us.
Will kill 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, shot!
- Fuck!
- Oh. Right.
Hopefully we can end this war.
That will calm things down.
Oh, fuck!
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 violence.
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, fuck" moment.
Well, now we've depressed each other.
I shall depart.
Cheers.
I shall shit 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 war.
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.
Fucking 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.
- Fucking 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 fucking 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 Fucking Great.
At least my dad was Olaf the Okay.
Yeah.
It is a wait. Like the war.
No, I just wanted to kick off my reign
with a big win,
and instead,
we're fucking mired for years.
I know. We've got to
get out of the shit.
Huh? And enjoy wine, and food, and pussy.
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 fucked 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 fuck 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 war.
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 fuck's sake, Peter.
Orlo, shut up.
Yes, of course we can.
And you must fuck 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, fuck 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 fucking 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 fucking won it.
You fucking lost it,
and then he turned a shithole
into a grand fucking 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 Shit.
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 fuck!
Fuck!
Yes! Suck on that!
You fuck!
- 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!
Fuck you!
Fuck!
It is frustrating to wait outside
the doors, is it not?
You would rather witness their idiocy?
- I would rather
- Fuck you, you Swedish shit!
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 fucked 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 kill two million of you.
We're Russian. We don't give a fuck
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 fucking you against a tree,
also canceled. We're leaving.
Fuck.
Oh, sorry. Sorry. I'm just
You okay?
Vlad.
This fucking 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, military,
the regions, the court.
How to win each.
How to take power.
- She's
- Killing the cunt.
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 fucking
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 kill everyone they see.
That's the fucking 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, fucking 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 war.
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 fucking 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! Fuck 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
fuck 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-war 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 war.
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.
Fuck 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 fucking 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.