Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 90 The Pinnacle of Power
"Good heavens, Your Excellency, I truly admire your vast knowledge. You can tell at a glance that these artifacts are not genuine Eastern porcelain." A woman's sweet, coquettish laughter echoed once again in the spacious hall.

Irina used her nail-painted fingertips to pick up a corner of the tableware in front of her, playfully rubbing the thin layer of nail polish on it.

"Excuse me for being blunt, but Italian goods are practically synonymous with counterfeit products. My cook used to often use inferior Sicilian olive oil to impersonate Spanish olive oil."

“From the 14th century onwards, Venetian merchants monopolized the supply channels for Oriental porcelain. Not satisfied with making a lot of gold coins, they even tried to imitate it themselves.”

"As a result, a bunch of counterfeit and shoddy goods were produced that were opaque and prone to fading, and the low prices attracted junior civil servants to buy them."

"It's not just these; Turkish carpets, French wine, and Eastern tea—there's nothing these profit-driven guys don't fake."

“These Italians are just like Jews… I’m sorry, Mr. Harry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

At the host's small tea party, 19-year-old Mrs. Irina single-handedly took control of the conversation, effortlessly launching topics from even the smallest snack or a piece of porcelain tableware.

Qin Hao was slightly surprised. This royal "canary" was not the simpleton he had imagined. In some respects, she could even be described as knowledgeable and with a good memory. However, she probably focused her attention on clothes, jewelry, luxury goods, and the style of afternoon tea.

He spent all his skill points on enjoying exquisite vases.

This is how Qin Hao described the woman before him.

Moreover, it was quite obvious that this large vase had an illogical "interest" in him; most of the conversations at the tea party revolved around him, and her flirtatious eyes would intentionally or unintentionally sweep over him.

“Father Pugin, I’ve been feeling quite uneasy lately. Could you spare some time to give me a private confession when it’s convenient for you?” the young woman whispered in the black-robed priest’s ear as she left, deliberately avoiding her husband.

This is clearly flirting in person!
Qin Hao quickly understood the woman's motives, as his status in the Winter Palace began to rise rapidly.
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A few days later, Alexandra summoned him alone without any attendants.

The table in front of me was filled with strange and unusual things.

Scattered tarot cards, ivory oracle plates, used bullet casings, feathers of unidentified birds, strangely shaped dolls, and even an oriental tortoise shell—all these were used for divination.

“Father Pugin! My Father! I can only rely on you!” Alexandra hysterically got off her chair and grabbed the sleeve of the man in front of her.

"Someone wants to harm Alexei! Someone wants to destroy this country!"

"I can't trust anyone else, but now only you can be my shield!"

"Please show me the way, I beg for your protection!"

After saying this, the dignified empress of the country, like a country bumpkin, actually crawled and supported herself at the feet of the black-robed priest, and her words were somewhat hysterical.

Qin Hao glanced at the woman in front of him, his mind racing.

The poor woman must have been brought down by the suspected assassination attempt on Alexei. This woman, who held the highest power in Russia, must now be suffering from serious mental problems.

She's pinning all her hopes on me now, since I "stopped" the assassination attempt a few days ago.

There is no logic to it; strictly speaking, Alexandra's behavior of seeking divine guidance and divination was the same as that of seriously ill patients in later generations.

Unfortunately, despite knowing some of what would happen later, the wheels of history cannot be stopped by a few words of "prophecy".

“Your Majesty, please forgive me for being unable to grant your request; I am not a diviner.” The priest in black robes pulled out his sleeve and slowly shook his head.

"My God! Do you doubt my piety? I could even build a church just for you, grant you sainthood, and gather your followers around you..."

"You've lost your composure; you really shouldn't have said such things to someone like me."

After speaking, the priest in black robes casually picked up a bullet casing, glanced at it, and tossed it onto the table. He then bowed to the Queen and left the room alone.

A woman's sobs could be heard in the darkness, sending chills down the spines of anyone listening in the corridors of the Winter Palace.

After the black-robed priest's figure completely disappeared, a hidden door opened, and the head maid walked out.

Unwilling to see her close friend in such a state, Anna chose to avoid her.

“You shouldn’t have said those things to him.” The head maid helped the Queen up, her words sounding both comforting and reproachful.

"But there's no other way. Every time I close my eyes, I seem to see Alexei covered in blood. I really don't know who to trust anymore." Tears streamed down the Queen's face.

"No!" "No!" The Queen suddenly wiped away her tears and rushed to the map.

“The priest won’t ignore this! He must have left some enlightenment, just like before!” Alexandra almost hysterically knelt before the map. Meanwhile, the bullet casing the black-robed priest had just dropped landed in Warsaw, knocking over a soldier's doll, which chipped off a corner and fell to the ground near St. Petersburg.

"The revelation is right here! The priest must still be testing my piety!" the queen exclaimed, grabbing the head maid's sleeve.

"You're tired, so don't think about it too much for now. Leave the rest to me." The head maid half-dragged, half-pulled the Queen out of the house.

She thought the Queen was just having a short-term mental breakdown and would recover after a while, but two months later, Alexandra's condition became more serious.

Because she finally understood the priest's revelation.

In May 1915, the situation in East Prussia deteriorated, and the Russian army abandoned Warsaw on the front lines.

In June of the same year, the Russian army suffered a major defeat on the Eastern Front, and more than 1 million wounded soldiers were transported back to St. Petersburg by train. Hospitals were overflowing, and the wounded were housed in train stations, churches, and other public facilities.

It was summer, and many soldiers' wounds were festering and infested with maggots. At this point, the soldiers' discontent had reached its peak.

The conflict erupted a month later when a soldier who had lost both legs and a medic who tried to help him were beaten by police in the street, sparking a large-scale riot among wounded soldiers. During the riot, bandages for wounded soldiers were discovered being sold on the black market.

The riots quickly spread, with 500 wounded soldiers smashing up pharmacies in Palace Square and looting alcohol for pain relief.

Two days later, the riots spread to the Admiralty building, and wounded soldiers even beat officers with their crutches.

The Winter Palace was now in complete chaos.

"We don't want medals! We want morphine! We want bandages!" The fervent slogans outside repeatedly assaulted people's eardrums, and everyone inside the Winter Palace wore a tense expression.

The Tsar was away from his residence as he was personally at the front lines, and the Empress, who was in charge of state affairs, was in complete panic.

"I should have known..."

“I should have known… The priest had already revealed it to me…” Alexandra was still pacing around in circles, completely lost.

"Your Majesty, soldiers of the Pavlov Regiment of the Imperial Guard have openly refused to carry out the order to suppress them, claiming they do not want to fire on their own people!" a messenger reported in a panic.

The head maid rushed in with a group of people. "Your Majesty, we don't have enough troops to suppress the rebellion. We only have 300 policemen from the Ministry of the Interior and two Cossack cavalry companies at our disposal. You must leave here first!"

A guard stepped forward, and the head maid led the others to begin changing Alexandra's clothes.

The Queen had already stepped out the door when she suddenly cried out in panic, "Father Putin! Where is Father Putin?! I must take him with me! He is our only hope; I can't leave him here!"

"Your Majesty, you must go first. The priest will be fine!" Anna forcefully pulled the Queen into the prepared carriage.

"No! I watched the priest leave with me! Since he made the prophecy, he must have a way!" The queen was unexpectedly stubborn at this moment, grabbing the threshold and refusing to leave.

Just then, another commotion erupted outside. The head maid pulled the Queen aside and ordered those behind her, "Stop those rioters from coming in! You may fire! You may fire!"

Upon receiving the order, nearly a hundred guards outside the window raised their weapons, while before them lay thousands of wounded soldiers.

A conflict was imminent, and it seemed that blood would soon stain the Winter Palace square.

Outside the window, a black carriage was stopped by rioting soldiers. The carriage stopped in the center of the square, and a figure with black hair and a black robe stepped down from it.

In an instant, all eyes were on him.

Crows flew across the sky, cawing loudly.

The priest in black robes and with black hair walked towards the wounded soldiers, then turned around and spread his arms to block them.

Someone in the crowd recognized him.

On August 12, 1915, the St. Petersburg riots, triggered by the issue of the treatment of wounded soldiers, were finally quelled by the triple intervention of the army, the limited compromise of the royal family, and the involvement of religious forces.

On someone's advice, Queen Alexandra forcefully assigned tasks to local nobles and temporarily raised a batch of funds and supplies to appease the soldiers. Although the riot was eventually quelled, the conflict between the Queen's party and the traditional forces became increasingly acute.

From then on, the Queen listened to "her Father Pugin" without question, and a certain man in a black robe suddenly found himself able to influence the policies of this doomed empire.

(End of this chapter)