War Breaks Out Ahead of Schedule
In the opening days of the war, “Sis, why are you so flustered? You were the one so sure there'd be a war.”
As Marie said, Sissi was indeed quite rattled.
Wasn't it supposed to happen next year?
August 15, 1865.
Prussia invaded Saxony, Hanover, and Hesse-Kassel, igniting the war.
“I never expected it to start this soon.”
What changed?
Sissi had pushed Franz Joseph from behind, but she had no idea he'd actually listened. In the original history, Austria had been gasping for breath under financial ruin, the Hungarian question, and the Venetian troubles—but not now.
Franz Joseph must have agonized over it for a long time, but he'd responded aggressively to her offhand words of encouragement. At least, that's what he'd taken them for.
Bismarck had played right into his hands, and war had erupted.
“Sis, shouldn't we head to Vienna?”
It was only natural to be in the capital when war broke out.
But Sissi shook her head.
“No, we need to stay here.”
“You said Sardinia would invade.”
“Exactly why we stay. It'll make it harder for them to escalate.”
Sissi figured there was a reason Franz Joseph hadn't declared war while she was in Vienna.
“He'd want me to stay here too.”
“Sis! You trust those bastards?”
To Marie, Sardinia was a nation that couldn't be trusted with war diplomacy.
“You know what they were like at Gaeta? They shelled hospitals—even where the queen was. Treaties mean nothing to those barbarians!”
Marie had walked the walls under a hail of shells, tending to the wounded.
“They'll cross the Ticino without even declaring war. Sis, you're the empress. If His Majesty thinks you've been captured, do you think he'll keep fighting?”
Sissi held firm anyway.
“I know. And this is Verona, with the Adige River flowing through it.”
Trust Sardinia, who've lost to Austria twice and are seething with rage? Of course not.
What Sissi trusted were two things.
One: the Quadrilateral fortresses that even Napoleon couldn't breach.
The other...
“It's not Sardinia I trust—it's General Benedek.”
Sissi hated explaining herself to others, which made her seem emotional, but no one valued her own safety more than she did.
“Sis... you think we can win?”
“No monarch starts a war thinking defeat. You fight because you must win.”
Prussia's a wild card... but Sardinia? We can beat them for sure.
*
The orders Benedek received were unexpected.
A command thick with intent to knock Sardinia out of the war before truce talks with Prussia even began, leaving them sidelined at the conference table.
“Yon, Sardinian forces?”
“Likely three corps deployed.”
Austria had two corps plus one for fortress defense.
“7th Corps moves to the Ticino.”
“Where for the 9th?”
“Reserve at Brescia and north Verona, defending south and north simultaneously.”
The 9th would block Sardinia's flanking maneuvers in the Lombard plain, support Milan if needed, and guard Verona's rail and supply hub.
“What about pushing the 9th further forward?”
“Speak.”
“Venetian merchants are recruiting mercenaries.”
“Not forward—support Tuscany to Naples?”
“The Apennines block it. Large forces can't move south quickly. Risk isolation in the mountains.”
Benedek studied the map quietly, then decided.
“7th Corps fixed at Ticino. No crossings allowed. Repel any attempts.”
“Pursuit?”
“Forbidden. Engage only those trying to cross.”
He moved his baton to Verona.
“9th stays on the Verona-Brescia axis. No full deployment.”
“Reserves only?”
“Detach one division from 9th. Mobile unit to southern Lombardy.”
“Rearward?”
“Supply lines, rails, couriers... sever any link between Sardinia's north and south.”
“How to relay objectives?”
“Sardinia can't drag this out. One falls, the rest follow.”
France couldn't intervene. The great powers might tolerate up to Sardinia, but French entry would shatter the balance Austria craved.
“Secure Sardinia's surrender before Prussian talks open. Relay that.”
“Understood.”
Austria's nature: defend every inch without yielding territory.
He offset the 7th's lengthening supply lines with the 9th's placement.
*
Vittorio recalled the humiliation of 1859, when Napoleon III turned his back, forcing him to abandon Milan within reach and retreat.
This time was different, he believed. Sardinia's bulk, swallowing the south, dwarfed that era.
“We're 200,000 strong. While they fixate north, we cross the Ticino, liberate Milan, race to Venice... the war ends in a month.”
“Southern recruits join, Austria crumbles. Chance to shut up Garibaldi and the republicans before they howl.”
Unification fever burned hot; fail here, and the mob's arrows would pierce the throne.
“But Alfonso, who's commanding Austria? Not Benedek coming down?”
“Sire, logically, Austria commits main force to Prussia. Benedek's their top general. Probably Archduke Albrecht for Italy.”
Alfonso La Marmora said it, but doubt laced his voice.
Benedek opposite? Soldiers' eyes would fill with dread, foreseeing defeat.
“...The empress is in Verona?”
“With that mad Bavarian woman, reports say.”
“Pressure Verona with some southern troops?”
“Verona, Sire?”
“Yes. Capture the empress as hostage, gain leverage at talks.”
Sardinia had done it before—wrapped violations in nationalist zeal, dodging international scorn.
No room for scruples now.
“Sire, Verona isn't taken by storming.”
Quadrilateral core, rail and supply nexus, Venice-Alps-Lombardy link.
Austria knows this.
Verona rivaled Milan in value.
Vittorio dubbed himself soldier-king.
In '48, generals cried unprepared; he struck anyway, lost.
In '59, banking on France, war opened—lost again.
“To claim Veneto, we must seize Verona.”
One strike here ends it.
“Main effort: Ticino.”
Generals nodded in relief.
“To Milan. That's fixed.”
But their faces darkened at his next words.
“Yet... war brings chances. Watch Verona. No rash assaults.”
To generals, that meant attack Verona.
Four days after first clashes in Bohemia, Sardinia crossed the Ticino with formal declaration.
*
“I told you, Sis.”
“What were they thinking, skipping even basic diplomacy?”
Austria isn't some Italian principality.
No ultimatum, demands, or neutral mention—just declaration. Unforeseen.
With the empress in Italy, no less.
Boom—!
Cannon fire shattered city peace.
Königseck peered from the window, reported.
“Your Majesty, from Lignano direction.”
“Sis, back to Vienna now.”
“If I move, Benedek's plan unravels.”
Her using war rails delays southern supplies.
“I can't move, not with soldiers counting on me.”
Sissi calmly stepped to the balcony, waving to citizens.
“It's fine. Our imperial army's loyalty... rivals any great power.”
It crumbled when Austria-Hungary formed dual army HQs.
“Marie, hospital alone today.”
“You?”
“My movement looks like flight.”
Marie Sophie was Gaeta's heroine; her visits fit perfectly.
“...Sis, careful. Redshirts might lurk among civilians.”
“Don't worry.”
*
Bohemia, near Liehenau.
Headquarters still quiet.
Morning report as expected.
“Left flank scouts contacted Prussian vanguard.”
“Size?”
“Unclear. Cavalry-infantry mix estimated.”
Clam-Gallas nodded.
“Within projections. Hold line. Avoid needless clashes.”
Orders calm, staff noted nods.
Prussians not main body yet.
Federal forces assembling; Saxon retreat in a day or two.
No need to rush.
Clam-Gallas's judgment.
Noon, second report.
“Right flank engagement.”
“Scale?”
“Not full line... but artillery support confirmed.”
Right: thinnest defenses.
“Artillery...”
“Prussian deployment faster than expected.”
A staffer ventured.
“If not main force, reckless advance. Intensify recon. No counterattacks.”
“Yes, Excellency.”
Still by the book.
Afternoon, reports quickened.
“Left flank comms severed.”
“Courier fatigue?”
“Possible, checking.”
“Hold positions till confirmed.”
Map markers unchanged.
Sunset, urgent staffer gasped.
“Excellency, rear rails cut.”
“Cut?”
“Junction attacked, seems.”
“Full war?”
“Not... conclusive yet.”
Not conclusive.
The phrase echoed.
Evening, air shifted.
Gunfire. Distant first, then clear.
“Excellency, right retreating.”
“Orderly?”
“...Yes.”
“Then fine. Reserves to steady line.”
Staffer hesitated.
“Hold till Saxons arrive?”
“Federal plan.”
Night deepened, reports shorter.
“Left fully pushed.” “Comms impossible.” “Rear roads confirmed cut.”
Clam-Gallas stopped map tweaks.
It had shifted slightly.
But war ignored maps.
Last question:
“Saxons?”
Staffer bowed head.
“Not... arrived yet.”
Clam-Gallas realized.
...Already severed.
He rose slowly.
“Maintain orderly retreat.”
“Excellency, to what line—”
“As far as possible.”
Practically final order.
Clam-Gallas signed, lit a cigarette.
*
“Archduke Albrecht.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Northern army commander appointment.”
“Will fulfill and return.”
Archduke Albrecht took the northern command with reserves, heading to Königgrätz.
September nears.
September rains would curb Prussian mobility.
Hold till then...