The Empress Must Shine (2)
As the chief lady-in-waiting had instructed, after a brief wait, she returned carrying documents listing all the court officials and their family backgrounds.
Thinking back on the situation, there were probably rules for how to read them or even sit down.
I didn't say it out loud—it just swirled in my head—but the chief lady-in-waiting acted as if she'd read my mind.
She carefully set the papers down on the massive mahogany desk, then turned toward me and indicated the chair with her palm.
"Your Majesty. Naturally, there is a procedure for sitting and reading as well."
She's being awfully sarcastic.
The chief lady-in-waiting spoke with perfect calm, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.
"The chair is a vessel that holds Your Majesty's authority. Thus, you must not sit carelessly. First, approach from the left side of the chair. The right side is reserved for His Majesty the Emperor."
Something feels different... what is it?
I moved like a robot following her commands, positioning myself to the left of the chair.
"Very good. Now wait until the lady-in-waiting pulls the chair back. Your Majesty must never touch anything yourself."
I watched as another lady-in-waiting approached silently and pulled back the heavy chair.
And just as I was about to sit—
Her voice halted my movement.
"You must not lean your back against the chair back, displaying weakness. Your Majesty is one of the two pillars of the empire. Always keep your posture straight, with space for a fist between your back and the chair back. That is the dignity of the Habsburgs."
"Then why bother with a chair back at all?"
A brief silence followed, then she replied in the exact same tone.
"Your Majesty. What you just said takes the form of a question, but it was nothing short of rude and vulgar."
When was I ever rude or vulgar?
"Every word from the Empress's mouth must carry the weight of the empire. You must refrain from remarks that mix emotion and shake the foundations of etiquette."
Ah, so ignoring etiquette was the rude and vulgar part.
"Then how should I ask a question?"
"Rather than a direct phrasing like 'Then why bother with a chair back,' simply voice your doubt as 'I wonder about the practicality of the chair back.' A subordinate will then discern your intent and explain."
...She's being subtly kind now?
"Now, allow me to teach you how to read the documents."
Her tone changed!
The chief lady-in-waiting picked up a long, slender rod that looked expensive from beside the stack of papers on the desk and placed it in front of me.
"Your Majesty's hands are the empire's treasure; they must not be sullied by ink and paper made by mortal hands."
I'm no immortal... what mortal hands...?
"You must not laugh so frivolously either."
Ahem.
"Use this rod to point to the sentences as you read. Once you've finished a page, silently move the rod to the upper right corner. That signals to turn the page. The attending lady-in-waiting will turn it for Your Majesty."
I alternated glances between the documents in front of me and the ivory rod.
"And most importantly, Your Majesty."
She changed into clean gloves, then gently lifted my chin.
"No matter what is written in the documents, you must never reveal your expression. The Empress's face must embody the empire's tranquility itself. Surprise, anger, joy—none are permitted."
She stepped back and bowed at the waist.
"Now, please begin."
Think of it as extending a company contract—this is just part of the job.
I've done stuff like this in the military, right?
I was about to read the first word when—
"Where is His Majesty the Emperor?"
"Their Majesties are not included in this list; they reign above it. Searching for His Majesty the Emperor among the subordinates' roster itself disrupts the empire's order."
Ah, I see.
"Moreover, Your Majesty's question just now mixed personal emotion, which is improper for an Empress. Rather than 'Where is he?', the correct form is to command, 'Explain why His Majesty the Emperor's name is absent.'"
I started to nod, then caught myself and glanced sideways at the chief lady-in-waiting.
I think I did it right this time.
Keep your head always haughtily high.
But where was the personal emotion... I was just asking.
I felt a bit wronged.
"No emotion must show on your face."
You think that's easy? I'm human too.
I schooled my expression again, stiffly raised the ivory rod with my rigid body, and pointed to the top line.
The first thing that caught my eye was the title.
Obersthofmeisterin Ihrer Majestät der Kaiserin und Königin
Chief Court Marshal of Her Majesty the Empress and Queen
What a grandiose title...
And slowly moving right revealed the name.
Sophie, Countess Esterházy-Lichtenstein.
My instincts screamed that this was the woman who'd just been schooling me.
The Sophie Archduchess hadn't assigned me some mere chief lady-in-waiting from the start—she'd placed the head of the Empress's household court right here.
I tried not to show it and, as instructed, moved the rod's tip to the upper right corner of the paper.
No comment... so I did it right?
Good, just like this...
Countess Sophie Esterházy-Lichtenstein stood like a statue in one corner of the office, silently watching the new Empress seated at the desk.
The Empress read the documents in a rigidly stiff posture.
Once she finished a page, she silently moved the rod to the upper right corner as taught.
The lady-in-waiting who saw the perfect signal approached soundlessly and turned to the next page.
A faint spark of positive emotion budded in the Countess's heart as she observed this mechanical obedience.
'She said she grew up free and never learned etiquette, so we were greatly worried.'
She recalled the face of the Sophie Archduchess who had secretly summoned her a few days ago to assign this mission.
As a longtime friend, she knew how deeply the Archduchess loved her son the Emperor, how full of distrust she was toward this young Bavarian Empress he'd chosen, and her anxiety over the Habsburg future.
Thus, as the mother of the empire, the Archduchess desired a perfect Empress.
'Yes, just like her.'
And for that grave task, she had chosen Sophie Esterházy.
'Make the Empress the empire's hardest gem, Sophie.'
The Archduchess's voice still rang clearly in her ears.
At first, the Countess thought the task nearly impossible.
The fragility of collapsing at the wedding, a temperament devoid of any formality.
But upon closer inspection, it was a bit different from expected.
'Of course, at first she nearly committed the rudeness of asking a lady-in-waiting's name. But it seemed less rebellion and more the innocent curiosity of a child knowing nothing.'
Even when she awkwardly used the word "command," it was the look of someone who didn't grasp its weight.
Most importantly, once taught the proper procedure, she followed without protest.
'Honestly, even the Sophie Archduchess didn't endure such a prison-like environment as a child.'
During the painful instruction of minute rules, she never voiced a single complaint. That alone showed potential.
'A blank slate is sometimes easier to work with.'
The Countess thought.
A pure canvas with nothing drawn on it might be better for painting the picture she desired than a flawed noble lady full of bad habits.
'The Sophie Archduchess's worries are entirely natural, but perhaps a touch excessive.'
This young Empress might be better material than expected.
Of course, the road was still long. She had to instill imperial dignity in those free eyes and burden those frail shoulders with the weight of the Habsburgs.
"—Therefore, my opinion is that we must moderate the tone of the ultimatum to Russia, Your Majesty."
Foreign Minister Count Buol's voice echoed.
Franz Joseph idly shifted his gaze over the documents.
He couldn't focus.
The ministers' reports washed over him without sinking in, circling endlessly in his mind.
Russia or Britain and France.
The empire teetered on a tightrope atop the worst choice, where both would eventually turn their backs.
Five years ago, when the Hungarian rebellion nearly toppled the empire, it was Russia's Nicholas I who sent troops.
'I have to stab in the back the man who treated me like a son. Traitor.'
Could he avoid that label?
But siding with Russia meant war with all Western Europe.
No right answer.
Franz shook his throbbing head.
Then, amid the gray reality, a pink thought squeezed in.
'Sisi woke up today.'
That news alone had shifted the court's atmosphere in an instant.
The old nobles who'd clamored to annul the marriage using her collapse as pretext had all shut their mouths. That alone felt refreshing.
'Sisi...'
On their wedding day, those deep brown eyes looking up at him, trembling with fear.
She seemed from a world apart from this exhausting political game.
Unrelated to the Russian Emperor's rage, France's arrogance, or the empire's finances.
Thinking of Sisi alone let the twenty-four-year-old young Emperor breathe, if only for a moment.
"...Your Majesty? What are Your Majesty's thoughts?"
Count Buol's voice ended his brief escape.
Franz Joseph slowly raised his head. The human anguish from moments ago vanished from his face, leaving only the emotionless expression of the empire's sovereign.
"Report again from the border military movements."
The endless meetings concluded. The sun had set; the day was ending.
For once, perhaps a bit quicker than usual, Joseph headed to the couple's bedroom.
As the sun set and candles were lit, I felt the tension drain from my body.
The hellish education from Esterházy had ended, and she and the other ladies-in-waiting had withdrawn for dinner.
I winked at the one young lady-in-waiting left, signaling her, and she nodded with a smile.
Leaning back against the chair back, resting for a moment—
Suddenly the bedroom door flew open, and Esterházy Countess and the others rushed back in urgently.
"Your Majesty! You must prepare immediately."
"What's going on?"
My question violated the etiquette she'd taught, but apparently something more important had arisen.
"His Majesty the Emperor is coming this way! Hurry and prepare."
The Emperor?
The Emperor? Am I the Empress?
Wait... we're married, right?
An emergency siren blared in my head.
"Clear the table! Bring Her Majesty the Empress's evening dress, and you two, help Her Majesty change."
I was suddenly seized like a doll and yanked up from the table.
Two ladies-in-waiting rushed in, unlacing my current dress, while another fitted me into a gorgeous yet comfortable-looking blue silk evening gown she'd brought.
This is their serious mode, huh.
"We will now conduct an abbreviated evening ceremony, the Coucher. When His Majesty the Emperor opens the door and enters, Your Majesty must rise from your seat and perform the deepest Hofknicks, the court curtsy."
One foot drawn deeply back, both knees bent almost to the floor.
A curtsy?
"At this time, your gaze must be fixed on His Majesty's feet, and you must not raise your head until he extends his hand. After His Majesty kisses the back of your hand and says, 'You've had a hard day, my Empress,' Your Majesty must reply, 'It cannot compare to Your Majesty's labors.'"
Her rapid-fire instructions, like a rap, ended just as a voice came from outside the door.
"His Majesty the Emperor arrives."
"Now, Your Majesty. Just as we practiced!"
With Esterházy's final whisper, the bedroom door opened.
Heart pounding like it might stop, I shot up from my seat.
What was I supposed to do again?
I clumsily mimicked the Hofknicks she'd shown, fumbling to bend my knees.
Does the Emperor speak first? Or me?
What were we supposed to say anyway?
"Uh, welcome, Your Majesty."
...I'm screwed.