No One Can Be Trusted in This World
No one in this world can be trusted.
"Latour. I heard you've been put in charge of the crown prince's education from now on."
"I am deeply honored to receive Your Majesty's command and serve His Highness, the future of the empire. My shoulders feel heavy with this grave responsibility."
Our empire has a soldier like this for the first time.
"I'd like to hear about the curriculum you've planned for educating the crown prince."
"If Your Majesty permits, I will briefly outline my plans."
Latour took a moment to steady his breath before continuing.
"First, His Highness the crown prince is still too young to learn about war. So for now, he should learn judgment rather than command."
Right, trying to teach a seven-year-old kid like it's a battlefield.
"Every day, we'll read classical histories and recent war accounts together, and I'll pose questions."
"Why the classics? Armies have changed since Napoleon."
"You're right that things have changed since Napoleon. The scale and weapons of armies have evolved, but people haven't. They succeed the same way and fail the same way."
Latour carefully showed me a book.
"Why Alexander shouldn't have advanced further, why Hannibal lost despite winning, why Caesar obsessed over his legions' loyalty. You'll learn about those."
He could make a good teacher.
"So, you're teaching him the habit of thinking."
"Yes, I'll only ask questions. His Highness will judge for himself and explain the consequences of wrong judgments in words. One day, His Highness will issue commands. But before that, he must know when not to."
Questions only—he won't directly manipulate imperial power. Got it.
But what if.
"What if Rudolf makes a wrong judgment?"
"If His Highness makes the wrong choice, I'll pursue the outcomes to the end. What happens to the troops if he sticks to it, where supplies get cut off, when subordinates start doubting orders. And finally, I'll ask: Will you still give the command?"
"Isn't it human nature to justify wrong judgments as right? The higher the position of responsibility, the harder it is to admit failure."
Even Joseph consults bureaucrats to spread responsibility now, and I don't intervene directly in politics.
"Quite right, Your Majesty. No one enjoys facing their own flaws. For one who stands above all, the pain is even greater."
"But Your Majesty, I'm not teaching His Highness to admit he's wrong. I'm teaching him to recognize when the situation changes and issue new orders."
"New orders?"
"Like Archduke Charles, who won his first victory against Napoleon—I aim to cultivate that flexibility. When His Highness realizes his judgment was wrong, I want him to have the ability to adjust tactics."
"Good. That's enough on the classics. But modern tactics are important for Rudolf too."
He's fine as a teacher, but I need to check him as a soldier.
"What do you think of breech-loading rifles?"
"They have advantages in firing speed and cover fire. But if troop control, ammo supply, and officer training can't keep up, the line could collapse quickly."
"Introducing weapons doesn't guarantee change, is that it?"
"Breech-loader or muzzle-loader, what matters is the soldier's morale. If they feel the weapon won't protect them, they break in battle."
Technology's useless if commanders can't wield it properly.
"What if we adopt Prussia's Dreyse?"
"Much to consider. First, supply. The Dreyse uses paper cartridges, not metal. We can't use our stockpiled ammo, and production methods need total overhaul."
Plus the pre-stocked powder issue.
"Second, officers. Faster firing makes fire control harder. Finally, soldiers. Without supply, they lose faith in their weapons and follow instinct over orders."
Am I imagining it?
Listening to Latour, it doesn't seem like Sardinia—who scraped funds even ceding Nice and Savoy—changed weapons without thought.
The current prime minister is Bettino Ricasoli, since Cavour died of malaria four years ago.
"How long does military reform usually take?"
Whoops, misspoke.
"Just weapons? A year suffices. But including officer and soldier training? At least five years. Less is impossible."
I got lost in thought and slipped up.
Lucky Latour let it slide.
"Well done. I can entrust Rudolf to you."
I dismissed him.
"Thank you for your trust, Your Majesty. I will do my utmost not to disappoint His Highness."
After Latour left, I sank into thought.
I really don't get it.
My guess seems the only answer, but hearing Latour, it feels wrong.
Sardinia couldn't have prepared five years—did they just charge ahead?
Us too. Would Bismarck give us five years? No way. He'd stab us the moment we catch our breath.
"Your Majesty, a letter from the Duchess of Schleswig."
Why would the Duchess of Schleswig write to me?
"Hand it over."
Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Augustenburg... What a long name.
I know we granted the Duke of Schleswig that title to check Prussia.
But Prussia won't let go of Schleswig.
I see why she wrote.
Prussia's prime minister promised to return Schleswig to our house, but administration and military command remain in Berlin's grip.
We can't do anything immediately.
Even the Dowager Empress is just crown princess consort.
Alexander II continues pro-Prussian policy, nursing grudge from his father Nicholas I.
"Any letters from Count Buol about Britain?"
"None, Your Majesty."
The British said they'd guarantee Holstein independence if we free it!
No one in this world can be trusted.
"...After helping in the Crimean War."
Russia and France sold out to Bismarck.
And Britain, all talk no action as always.
Ottomans and Austria are like Britain and France.
Need to turn Sardinia's eyes south again...
Did Marie and Francesco reconcile?
My sister Marie Sophie. Unlike Neapolitan royalists' hopes, she can't do much.
Too much to think about...
I sipped the peppermint tea the maids brought and stood.
"I need to see Joseph."
The Imperial Chancellery corridor buzzed with tension.
The valet knocked at Joseph's office.
"Her Majesty the Empress requests an audience."
"Let her in."
Joseph's face was as impassive as ever.
"What brings you at this hour?"
"Missed you, so I came."
I entered slowly and shut the door.
"Why send so many physicians?"
"It's winter."
"You should send them to your mother."
Elderly need health care more in winter.
I settled naturally into my usual chair by the fireplace.
"...That's not the reason."
Joseph flipped papers without looking up.
"You only come at this hour for a reason."
Stress must be peaking. He's unusually touchy.
War's no child's play.
"Lots of paperwork."
"Winter's every year."
Joseph's hand paused briefly.
"What do you want to say?"
I turned to the fireplace.
"You'll hold a meeting."
"...Yes."
"But won't decide anything."
No answer this time.
"Joseph."
I called him in a deliberately low voice.
"You're the type who holds them to buy time. Whether that's enough... isn't for me to say."
I glanced at his desk.
"Just curious, though."
"About what."
"If you think the enemy will sit idle that whole time."
Joseph said nothing.
"You already know."
Any intel I have, he has too.
"Sissi."
Joseph rubbed his face dryly and turned away.
"Joseph, your eyes look weary today."
He's no fool. Just doesn't want to admit it.
I approached and covered the back of his hand.
"The empire's vast. Changing course takes too many people, too much time."
"I know. That's why you're struggling."
"War's coming again."
"Scared?"
"Always."
"But I know you won't run."
"Right."
"We promised in Milan, remember? I'm by your side."
"Send Ludwig instead of Albrecht."
Canceling Albrecht for the Russian visit and sending Archduke Karl Ludwig meant war was decided.
"Guess I'll head out again."
"Sorry."
... 'Sorry' from Joseph? Better check if the sun rises in the west tomorrow.
"Say 'please' in times like this."
"Please handle Italy."
I smiled back.
"Don't worry. You know how much the Venetians adore me?"
I don't expect Hungary to suddenly flip and help us.
So he wants me to shore up the vital south myself.
"The baggage train arrives in two months."
Just say you love me, for heaven's sake.
"Thank you."
I returned to my room and sent a letter to Marie asking her to come to Milan.