A Flower for Concorde
Concorde Square. Sigh… It’s already been a month.
This place feels even more exhausting than Vienna. At least there, I just had to dodge my mother-in-law.
Though the moment I meet the Archduchess Sophie, Vienna will probably feel even more tiring.
“I should’ve brought Franzchi along…”
“Even if you had, Your Majesty couldn’t have gone riding.”
Ferenc replied to my musing.
“I just wanted to at least feed him.”
He looks scary, but he’s actually sweet once you get to know him.
“I heard Count Buol is going hunting today…”
“No, Your Majesty.”
When did Esterházy get back?
“How about going somewhere else instead?”
Somewhere else?
She pulled a small note from her bosom and showed it to me.
“Lady-in-Waiting Basano asked me to pass this to Your Majesty.”
Elisabeth, I’ve heard rumors that you enjoy riding. If you’d like, shall we take a promenade through the Bois de Boulogne tomorrow afternoon? — Your friend, Eugénie
Hmm… She didn’t look well.
“Doesn’t the Russian Empress dislike riding?”
As far as I knew, she was a bookworm.
If I’m the introverted type who enjoys solitary outings, Empress Maria is the introverted type who hates going out at all.
“It’s just a promenade, after all.”
Yeah, yeah, sure, let’s go with that.
A promenade is basically like a drive—riding in a carriage and enjoying the scenery.
“I can’t refuse an invitation from the hostess.”
The next afternoon, as I was getting ready to head out, Esterházy offered me some advice.
“Your Majesty, the Russian Empress probably won’t come.”
“Why not? She must have received an invitation too.”
Esterházy finished slipping on my gloves and said,
“She did receive one. But the Russian Empress will have politely declined.”
“Why?”
“The surface reason is exactly what I mentioned yesterday.”
Health issues, I suppose.
She fastened the buttons to keep the gloves from slipping and continued,
“Empress Maria has said that the true power of art lies not in novelty, but in eternity. And Empress Eugénie has declared the newly renovated streets and squares as her greatest interest.”
“The Bois de Boulogne is the very symbol of the novelty Eugénie talked about.”
“Precisely. In Empress Maria’s eyes, it’s not a true forest imbued with eternity—it’s just an artificial garden filled with Parisian vanity.”
Esterházy added one final reason.
“This invitation is a declaration of war from Empress Eugénie, who lost the battle of bloodlines. She’s shifting the battlefield to her own stage of style. And she’s deliberately excluding the Russian Empress from that stage.”
“Just as I said.”
“Yes. Empress Maria knows it too. If she accepts, it would mean acknowledging Eugénie’s stage and descending to the level of yesterday’s defeated foe.”
Esterházy straightened the brooch on my chest and concluded,
“There’s no reason for Empress Maria—who yesterday affirmed the gap in bloodlines by calling her the Empress of the French—to play sidekick on that baseless stage.”
Honestly? She’s right.
Empress of the French, after all.
“Eugénie must be pretty obsessed.”
“I heard it while buying flowers for Your Majesty’s bath yesterday.”
This time, Ferenc spoke to me.
“They said the minister who staged a coup with her didn’t do it just to marry her off to some high-class whore.”
…Oh.
At least I hadn’t heard that one.
“If Archduchess Sophie were here, she’d have fainted.”
Roughly speaking, that’s probably why Eugénie and Napoleon are so obsessed with bloodlines—constant gossip and daily battles.
That’s why having good bloodlines is great.
No one—except my mother-in-law—calls me an uneducated brute for my lack of learning.
They just say it’s Bavarian free-spiritedness shining through.
“I already miss His Majesty the Emperor.”
“We pray he takes care of his health and remains safe.”
…Why bring that up now?
Focus on childbearing age, huh…
“In the end, even Empress Eugénie changed her tune once she bore a crown prince.”
“Looks like the second one’s harder than the first.”
The first was a one-shot success.
“You should’ve seen Sophie walking, Chief Lady-in-Waiting.”
In the mirror, Ferenc and Esterházy exchanged glances and shook their heads.
They liked it at first.
“All done.”
Finally, she removed the cucumber slices from my cheeks.
“Let’s go.”
“Chief Lady-in-Waiting.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“…Why didn’t you tell me it was a calèche?”
“You rode in the same carriage during the wedding.”
I thought it was only for ceremonies like weddings or coronations.
I had no idea they’d drag it out just for a forest stroll.
“If I’d known, I would’ve faked being sick.”
Not even our Viennese subjects—just becoming a spectacle for the Parisians?
Too late to back out now… Fine, think of it as acting. A play with a big stage and a huge audience.
“Empress Elisabeth.”
She appeared today fully armed to the teeth.
Her lavish light blue dress sparkled in the sunlight, proclaiming her the true mistress of Paris.
I swallowed a sigh inwardly.
My bloodline was a yoke that oppressed me in Vienna, but for Eugénie, it was the foundation she so desperately craved.
As we boarded the carriage and passed through the palace gates, a huge crowd had gathered.
“Elisabeth, look. This is Paris’s vitality.”
“This isn’t just a simple promenade. It’s a passionate Parisian parade.”
Just give it some vague praise and move on.
Eugénie was using this parade to show off to the Parisian citizens.
Two things: the newly transformed Paris, and her legitimacy—enough to stand beside the Habsburg Empress.
But Eugénie.
Do you know how much money I’ve poured into this appearance? It’s not for showing off to the Parisians.
If I flashed a smile at Joseph, he’d pretend to die on the spot.
…Maybe not that.
Anyway.
Is it some instinct buried in my DNA?
Why does my stomach churn every time I see these Parisians?
“Ah, I get it now.”
“What?”
I flashed Eugénie a brilliant smile.
“It’s because this is Concorde Square.”
For a split second, Eugénie’s face stiffened.
Eugénie, you’ve brought me to the very spot where Marie Antoinette met her end.
“Not at all. It’s just the way to the Bois de Boulogne.”
I know that.
Concorde Square is merely a gateway showcasing the new Paris. I don’t think Eugénie meant to put me in an awkward spot on purpose.
“But if I pass through like this, what will the Austrians think? You understand, right?”
I asked Eugénie, but I wasn’t expecting an answer.
My hand, which had removed the flower brooch from my chest, unhesitatingly tossed it toward the square.
“It’s the only flower I have.”
Count Buol smiled contentedly at the treaty’s contents.
Nothing has changed.
He signed his name at the end of the treaty document without hesitation.
The Russian delegate across from him did the same.
He skimmed the treaty once more.
Despite spilling tens of thousands of lives in Italy, they had held the line.
Britain had poured in massive war funds but failed to disarm Russia’s Black Sea Fleet.
France, as the conference host, sought the glory of Europe’s mediator but ended up with empty pomp.
Count Buol carefully tucked the treaty into his leather case, lest it vanish.
As expected… the masses are dangerous. If Austria and Russia had listened to their citizens’ voices like that, we couldn’t have achieved this outcome.
For the first time, war correspondents had appeared, living in the trenches with the soldiers and writing articles criticizing the horrors of war and the high command’s incompetence.
Britain couldn’t overcome public opinion; the cabinet resigned en masse, and anti-war sentiment surged.
“To the new peace of Europe.”
France’s foreign minister forced a bright smile. Count Buol raised his glass with a beaming expression. I heard the Empress caused a scene, but that’s why I’m here—to handle things like that.
“Her Majesty the Empress conveys her deepest regret.”
The horseback ride with Eugénie in the Bois de Boulogne had been fun.
“I’m fine. I’m just worried it might strain our friendship.”
She and I shared similar hobbies.
Losing a riding buddy is always a shame.
“If she’s truly sorry, please tell her to reply to the letter I sent.”
“Understood.”
The French lady-in-waiting withdrew, and I savored my free time once more.
I’m really going home now…
It felt like a lightning bolt struck my head.
“…Chief Lady-in-Waiting.”
Esterházy seemed to sense something too.
“…Yes, speak, Your Majesty.”
“I think… I’m pregnant?”
“…I suspected as much, but we’ll need an examination from the court physician once we return to Vienna to be certain.”
It feels about right.
I hadn’t had my period for over a month in Paris.
“So it wasn’t just because French food was so tasty.”
I’d felt hungrier than usual.
Even the sachertorte last time—I’d normally just take a few polite bites.
“Chief Lady-in-Waiting.”
“I’ll prepare a comfortable dress right away.”
Yeah, yeah.
Empire style, like last time.
Artist style doesn’t quite fit formal occasions yet—etiquette issues.
Plus, it’ll block any political attacks aimed at Eugénie.