Russia.
Saint Petersburg.
Crown Prince Paul Petrovich stepped out from Catherine’s bedchamber, looking back reluctantly twice before finally striding towards the other end of the corridor.
He didn’t want closeness with his mother, on the contrary, he was filled with disgust towards Catherine, just as his mother was with him.
He was loath to leave his little angel, Alexandra.
Catherine never cared for his feelings. Ever since she noticed the growing resemblance between her and Alexandra, she had kept the little one by her side.
Paul could barely see his daughter once a month.
Before, he had taken his little angel to attend the King of France’s birthday, and he had finally spent a good two months with his daughter. But now, returning to Saint Petersburg, they were to be separated again.
As he walked up the staircase with a heavy heart, suddenly a figure darted out, firmly embracing his shoulders, and a familiar voice ca:
"When did you get back? My dear brother, how were the ladies of Paris? Did they make you want to stay forever?"
Paul imdiately broke into a smile and forcefully pushed his brother away, then pretended to scold:
"I don’t have as much money as you to spend on won, especially Frenchwon—they’re even more beyond my reach."
"Ha-ha, otherwise, what would we use the money for?" Alexei ca close again, "Are you going to drill the troops today? How about we go fishing instead? I’ve got all the gear and liquor ready."
Paul continued walking with his chest puffed out and head held high:
"Spare , I don’t want to end up drunk as a lord and swept away by the river."
He was referring to a winter a few years ago, when Alexei, while fishing, had insisted on betting who could finish a whole bottle of vodka first. In the end, Alexei fell into the icy river drunk. If it hadn’t been for the guards’ desperate rescue, he might have been swept away.
"Don’t worry, I’m setting out to sea tomorrow, I won’t drink too much."
Paul looked at his brother, who had obviously matured a lot, and slapped him hard on the back:
"Let’s go! To fish!"
Inside the Winter Palace, Catherine looked at her granddaughter with tenderness, devoid of the stern deanor of a ruler, and softly said:
"Little one, did you enjoy Paris?"
Alexandra sat upright and showed a happy smile upon hearing this:
"Yes, it was very interesting. Everyone wore beautiful clothes, and I even rode on a carousel. Do you know? Those wooden horses can really run!"
"Good, good." Catherine nodded with a smile and then asked, "Did you manage to accomplish the task I gave you?"
"Yes, Grandma."
"Then tell , what kind of person is the Crown Prince of France?"
The little girl tilted her head and thought for a mont, then replied:
"Hmm, he has a pair of very pretty blue eyes and is handso, especially when wearing that dark blue long coat. But he seems to be very busy; I only saw him two or three tis. Oh, and he is very popular. In the Palace of Versailles, you can hear people ntioning his na everywhere. It seems he did so very impressive things...
but I didn’t quite understand them, sothing about establishing a bank..."
Catherine stroked the little girl’s hair, listening to her sporadic storytelling for quite a while before suddenly asking:
"So, you have a good impression of him?"
Alexandra nodded earnestly.
Catherine also nodded and continued:
"Darling, would you like to live in Paris? I an for a very long ti."
Thinking of playing on the carousel every day, the little girl’s eyes lit up with joy:
"Really? That would be wonderful!" she exclaid, then seed to rember sothing, looked down at the Tsar, "Will you co too? I would miss you a lot if you didn’t."
...
North Africa.
Port of Sfax in southeastern Tunisia.
In a tall beige building, Eunice, dressed in a long red robe with a white turban adorned with a dark grey feather and a curved sword at his waist and European-style tight trousers on his legs, stood energetic, pointing to a sandbox in front of him, talking to his subordinates about sothing.
Whatever the topic, it elicited a burst of laughter from the group. Eunice’s gaze went through the arched window, glancing at the pier in the distance where a crowd of laborers was unloading cargo from a large ship.
He knew that the ship was carrying flintlock guns newly imported from France, as well as accompanying gunpowder and lead bullets.
The guards standing outside had already shouldered their Charleville muskets, looking formidable.
A sedan chair stopped below, and a man in his fifties stepped out, adorned with a sumptuous waist sword, he signaled to the guards, then hurriedly climbed the stairs and with excitent saluted Eunice, exclaiming:
"Pasha, I’ve persuaded that old De Olle; he’s brought 600 soldiers to join you!"
No sooner had he spoken than a middle-aged man beside him with a goatee frowned and objected:
"Imanzade, De Olle’s n are not the Imperial Guard; why would you allow them to join us?"
Eunice raised his hand to stop him, turning to Imanzade with a nod and a smile:
"As long as they are loyal to , I can bestow them with high positions and generous rewards, regardless of their origin."
Overjoyed, Imanzade saluted again, adding:
"Thank you, Pasha! I am confident I can persuade a few more forces in the Kaf district; they can provide at least 4,000 troops."
Eunice spread his arms graciously: "Go ahead, I will rember your contribution."
"Yes, my most venerated Pasha."
After Imanzade left, the middle-aged man with the goatee imdiately saluted Eunice respectfully:
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