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Chapter 1180: The Coup

Alexander declared coldly, "Please step aside. There is nothing you can do."

Count Bobrinsky's pupils constricted. He shouted to the servants, "Stop them, including the Crown Prince! This is a coup!"

Alexander glanced at the seven or eight burly servants. These were elites chosen by Count Bobrinsky from the guards of the Gemini Trading Company, and they were formidable fighters. He couldn't help but frown; he knew his father could escape at any moment. He couldn't afford any more delays.

He suddenly drew his pistol and cocked the hammer, but instead of aiming at the guards, he turned the barrel toward his own heart. He shouted at Count Bobrinsky, "I was wrong. I will take responsibility for everything!"

Immediately, he pulled the trigger. A thunderous roar erupted, leaving everyone stunned.

Things had moved too quickly. In that instant, Count Bobrinsky's mind went blank, filled only with the thought that the heir to the throne was dead. He frantically pushed aside the servants blocking him and rushed toward Alexander, who had collapsed to the ground.

Just as he came within two steps of Alexander, the prince suddenly shot a meaningful look at the Captain supporting him.

The officer immediately let go of the Crown Prince, sprang up, and pressed his saber against Count Bobrinsky's throat.

Alexander stood up and pointed at the illegitimate son, addressing the servants who were still fighting his men. "Lay down your weapons immediately, or I will kill him!"

In truth, his pistol had not been loaded with a lead ball. He had originally intended to use the blank shot to frighten Paul I into signing the abdication papers, but he hadn't expected to use it here instead.

The guards from the Gemini Trading Company lost their resolve the moment they saw their employer was captured.

Alexander's guards efficiently disarmed them.

A Second Lieutenant immediately grabbed a pre-positioned axe and hacked through the door to the Tsar's chambers in a few swift strokes. The lone guard inside shrank into a corner, trembling under the threat of multiple gun barrels.

Alexander charged straight into the Tsar's bedroom.

As his men smashed open the bedroom door, he saw Paul I, dressed in a white nightshirt, attempting to open a secret passage door behind the bed.

"Stop him!"

Paul I glanced at the intruders in a panic and froze. "Is it you?"

Before his son could answer, the Tsar regained his senses and turned to flee into the secret passage.

Alexander's gaze hardened. Memories of his father's endless humiliation and corporal punishment flashed through his mind. If he allowed his father to enter that passage, a life even more terrifying than before would await him.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pointed at the Tsar and roared at the Captain beside him, "Fire! Now!"

Gunsmoke erupted along with a flash of flame. A spray of blood instantly splattered the entrance of the secret passage.

Alexander felt a chill wash over his limbs. He cautiously rounded the large bed, simultaneously dreading that he might see his father still alive and hoping that the shot hadn't hit a vital organ.

When his line of sight cleared the headboard, he saw his father, who had already stopped breathing.

There was a horrific bloody hole in the side of his chest, and his white nightshirt was mostly stained a brilliant crimson.

The Captain stepped forward quickly, pressed his fingers against the Tsar's carotid artery, and then turned to shake his head at Alexander.

The Captain who had fired the shot immediately knelt on one knee beside Alexander. "Your Majesty!"

The others followed suit, kneeling. "Your Majesty!"

Alexander kept his head bowed as he retreated from Paul's bedroom. He sat in a chair, dazed for several minutes, before finally looking at his subordinates. "Have Dr. Wylie handle the late Emperor's body. Pay special attention to that wound."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Alexander then slowly walked out of the room. He addressed Zubov and the others waiting at the door, as well as the Guards who had rushed over after hearing the gunshot. "The Emperor accidentally struck his head against a candlestick just now and has passed away."

The wound on the body was so large that there had to be an excuse. However, dozens of people had heard the gunshot; no one truly believed his words.

In a bit of a trance, Alexander commanded Zubov, "Have Count Pahlen come see me."

Half an hour later, Pahlen was listening to Zubov's trembling description of what had just happened in the palace when he saw thousands of soldiers rapidly approaching.

He soon identified the unit's banners by the torchlight. It was the Semyonovskoye Guards Regiment—the Crown Prince's personal loyalists. Or rather, the new Tsar's men.

This army was supposed to be stationed in the outskirts of Saint Petersburg. Their appearance here clearly indicated they had been mobilized long ago.

He suddenly realized he had been wrong. Alexander was not a "weak young man" at all; he was a predator.

Sure enough, as soon as he entered Gatchina Palace, he was immediately surrounded by several guards.

With disheveled hair and a weary expression, Alexander gave him a casual glance and said, "As of this moment, the Secret Police are abolished. You may choose between the Urals or Perm for your exile."

The following morning, the new Tsar Alexander I reviewed the Imperial Guards according to custom, but the location was the Winter Palace. These soldiers had already changed back into traditional Russian uniforms. They no longer carried halberds, and no officers were using rulers to measure the length of their strides.

At noon, Alexander I stood in the square of the Winter Palace and announced to hundreds of nobles that he would rule Russia in the spirit of his great grandmother, Catherine II. He immediately pardoned all officers who had been exiled or imprisoned by Paul I.

Thunderous cheers instantly erupted in the square, as if the old Tsar had never existed.

On the afternoon of the second day, Alexander I had a brief discussion with the Patriarch regarding his coronation before immediately convening a meeting with his senior civil and military officials.

"End the expedition to India immediately. Have Bakhov's corps garrison in Khiva," the Tsar said, speaking very rapidly. "Order General Gudovich to assemble his troops and set out for the Caucasus within a month.

"Please have Count Ostermann warn the British that if they continue to provide support to Persia, I will consider it a grave provocation.

"The army at Iasi must be reorganized. I fear the barracks there have almost fallen into ruin..."

...

In Western France.

Inside a dry dock at the Brest Shipyard, Sané, the chief warship designer, was explaining the features of his newly designed fourth-rate steam warship to the Crown Prince. "Your Highness, this ship will reach a speed of twelve knots. It only requires a very light breeze to maneuver.

"At the same time, due to the advantages in propulsion, its load-bearing capacity is superior. Therefore, it will feature a thicker hull than a standard fourth-rate ship, significantly improving its defensive capabilities."

Indeed, even before high-power steam engines had finished development, the Brest Shipyard had begun designing larger steam warships at Joseph's request. They were now reaching the final stages.

When Joseph heard "load-bearing capacity," he suddenly thought of the ironclads he had been planning for a long time. He turned to the designer and asked, "In your opinion, if we use a standard hull, would it be feasible to add a layer of iron plating to the exterior of the wooden shell?"