"So... who is the Tsar now?" Alexandra looked at the envoy. "Alexander?"
"Yes, Your Highness." Count Molokov bowed his head.
Alexandra waved her hand dismissively, smiling, "Perhaps he should have done it earlier. Some of Father's methods were indeed not very wise; let him go fish at the Moika River—it's better than quarrelling with the ministers every day..."
"Your Highness," Molokov interrupted her, gritting his teeth, "Emperor Paul, he has passed away."
The girl's smile froze, "What did you say?"
"Your father accidentally fell and was impaled by a candlestick in the chest... It happened half a month ago."
"You're not joking, are you?"
"This is the truth, Your Highness."
Alexandra suddenly turned away, a low growl emerging from her throat, "That greedy and cold-blooded vulture! He couldn't even wait for the time to sign the abdication edict, eagerly pouncing to tear at his flesh! Even hell cannot contain his sins!"
