"Whom God would destroy, He first makes mad."
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Grand Duke Shuysky left the Kremlin in a daze. He got into his carriage and told the driver to leave quickly. They had never seen Grand Duke Shuysky so distraught. Even when he was constantly suppressed by Regent Elena,
Shuysky had never been so uneasy. It was as if the person he was playing chess with tonight wasn't the young Tsar, but the once cautious and cruel Varisi III, the capricious and cruel emperor.
Like father, like son.
Shuysky's ominous premonition grew stronger. The gloomy-faced boy on the chessboard was no longer the child who could be manipulated by seven princes. His silent methods of eliminating threats around him far surpassed those of his father.
Back home, Andrei Shuysky was utterly exhausted. He didn't even want to think about the harrowing events of the day; the image of the executioner etched on the wall kept replaying in his mind. What would have happened if he had given the order?
Shuysky dared not imagine.
Fear drove dangerous thoughts to surface. The young Ivan IV was gradually slipping out of control, and Shuysky's gaze fell upon Ivan IV's younger brother, the mentally challenged Yuri Vasilynovich.
However, these thoughts were fleeting. Changing the emperor was no joke; the entire Shuysky family could be beheaded, and all the spies planted around Ivan IV would be eliminated. He had no chance to poison or stage an accident.
Grand Duke Shuysky sighed as he sat on a bench. Ivan IV's spies were watching him closely; his every move might be overheard.
Just as he closed his eyes to rest, Shuysky's second son, Dmitry the Younger, rushed into his room without any prior notice.
This youngest son, only two years older than Ivan IV, was Shuysky's most beloved and indulged child, so he didn't mind his son's rudeness.
Shuysky smiled, patted his son's head tenderly. At this moment, he was simply a kind father, not the ruthless strategist of the court.
Dmitry threw himself into Shuysky's arms and said to his father, "Father, Grand Prince Tuchkov is looking for you."
"Grand Prince Tuchkov?"
Hearing this name, Shuysky's previous drowsiness vanished, replaced by a solemn expression. Although he loathed this man from the bottom of his heart, he tried his best not to show any bad emotions in front of his son.
"He's requesting an audience at this time?"
"Yes."
Dmitry blinked and said, "I heard he has a gift for Father."
"A gift?"
Shuysky sensed something was wrong and stood up to meet this uninvited guest. Before stepping out of the room, he suddenly remembered something and said to his son, "By the way, Dmitry. These days, unless you have something to do, you'd better stay home and stop going out causing trouble with your cronies."
"Why should I?"
Dmitry was clearly very dissatisfied with his father's request.
Disturbed and agitated, Grand Prince Shuysky didn't want to offer any further explanation, rudely interrupting his son.
"No reason why, just don't go out! Stop talking nonsense!"
Shuysky slammed the door shut, leaving Dmitry behind.
He was in a terrible mood; if not for his exceptional mental fortitude, he probably would have died of fright in the Kremlin.
Especially when he saw Tuchkov's smiling face, his heart skipped a beat.
A deposed prince, now a lackey of the young emperor, was in a much better position than himself.
"Shuysky, long time no see."
Shuysky forced a smile at Tuchkov's insincere greeting.
"It really has been a long time. How long has it been? Yelena had only been dead for six months when I arrested the Imperial Scribe Fyodor, then exiled you to the countryside. Then I killed your cousin and allies. Do you know what my biggest regret is? It's not killing you."
Tuchkov remained unmoved by Shuysky's accusations. He merely offered a bland smile, as if past grudges were insignificant.
The more indifferent the other man's attitude, the more frightened Shuysky became.
"His Majesty Ivan mentioned something to me today,"
Tuchkov said calmly, standing still. "His Majesty said he vividly remembers Grand Prince Shuysky's tyranny, a fight that took place in the Duma. Andrei Shuysky and his followers, fists waving, pounced on Lord Vorontsov, slapping him, tearing his clothes, dragging him outside the palace, and striking him on the back with wooden sticks, attempting to kill him."
"His Majesty has never forgotten that scene, saying it cast a deep shadow on his young mind."
Shuysky's previously calmed heart stirred with unease once more. Ivan IV's mention of this at this time gave him a sense of foreboding. If it weren't for the fact that the other man wasn't accompanied by an army, he would have no doubt that Tuchkov had come to arrest him.
The prince could no longer fathom what the young prince was thinking. He was like a mystery looming over the minds of every courtier.
"So His Majesty Ivan instructed me to give you this. He also said that next time Grand Duke Shuysky needs to execute someone, don't be so rude, because he dislikes seeing bloodshed. This is a torture device he custom-made for Grand Duke Shuysky; I hope you like it."
Tuchkov stepped aside, revealing the cold Iron Maiden to Shuysky. The statue of the Virgin Mary on the iron box was particularly eerie in the dim light.
"What is this…"
Shuysky clearly had never seen such a torture device before.
Following Ivan IV's instructions, Tuchkov slowly opened the iron door of the Iron Maiden for him.
The moment the door opened, Shuysky's heart tightened.
Blood stained the sharp nails, forming a dark red pool. Scattered pieces of flesh hung everywhere. The stench of blood assaulted Shuysky's nostrils, and even the compassionate image of the Virgin Mary seemed to become grotesque. He quickly took a few steps back, looking anxiously at Tuchkov standing beside him.
Tuchkov shrugged and explained, "The last person to die inside was Natasha, a servant who attended to His Majesty."