Bohemian Military Parade
"You did great."
I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear.
"That sounds so much better, Yosha."
"It's awkward. Feels like I'm stark naked... no, just a feeling."
Who would've thought the mighty Franz Joseph would get this shy over a bit of casual talk.
I stroked the back of his head slowly, like soothing a child.
Got to be careful in front of others.
"You'll get used to it. Both you and me."
The review was in three days, right?
I've got to prepare a speech in Bohemian.
*
The Letná Plain in Prague was a sea of white uniforms.
Rows and columns aligned with ruler-like precision.
Standing stock-still... thank God I'm not down there.
"Impressive, isn't it, Empress?"
Yosha's face, peering out the carriage window, was brimming with pride.
"These are the shields of the empire. The Bohemian legions are especially renowned for their strict discipline and toughness."
"...Yeah, they are."
No way generals in my past life thought the same, right?
"Your Majesty, we've arrived at the reviewing stand."
The carriage halted, and the footman opened the door.
As the imperial anthem echoed, Yosha stepped down first and escorted me.
Along the path to the raised platform and the imperial box, elite grenadiers stood guard in rigid formation.
Up close, they look even more pitiful.
The young soldiers' necks bulged with straining veins. Frozen, barely breathing—it was heartbreaking.
'Looking sharp.'
I mouthed a silent word of encouragement, and the soldier's eyes shook like aspen leaves.
Did I just mess up...?
As I took my seat, Yosha vaulted onto his waiting horse.
Soon, a man in a plumed helmet wheeled his mount forward.
"Bohemian Garrison First Legion Commander, Eduard Clam-Gallas!"
His voice boomed across the plain.
"First Legion of Bohemia, total strength 25,000! Assembled for Your Majesty's review!"
Yosha raised a gloved hand in salute and advanced slowly.
I smiled faintly at his proud retreating back.
Okay, fine—a man in uniform is kinda hot.
As Yosha's horse passed the first infantry regiment, cheers erupted.
"Long live the Emperor!"
Soldiers roared themselves hoarse along his path, standard-bearers saluting sharply.
Something... different?
Maybe because I rarely see him at work.
The 10 minutes at the Hofkapelle dinner table?
If that even counts as work.
Otherwise, I've never seen him in action.
Yosha's more popular than I thought. Have I just been hanging out in Hungary and Italy too much?
From afar, he looked different from usual.
Straight-backed, unwavering gaze, reins in one hand, saluting with elegant poise.
Like he was born solely to be emperor.
A little unfamiliar, even...
Before long, Yosha finished the review and rode back to the platform.
His face flushed, breath ragged.
But the look in his eyes as he gazed at me—that was the Yosha I knew.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"No, that was amazing."
I've never seen a review like this. Being down in the ranks versus looking from above—worlds apart.
He moved straight to the podium for his address.
"Soldiers of the First Legion!"
His voice rang out deep and full, filling the field.
"You are the empire's sturdiest shield and sharpest spear. In the recent wars, and even now, Bohemia has steadfastly guarded the throne."
He read from the script Bach had prepared.
A stiff, authoritative praise in German.
Mid-address, Yosha paused and glanced sideways at me.
You're doing fine, Yosha.
I smiled at him, and he faced forward again.
Then, slowly, he set the speech down.
"Já vím."*
Hand on his chest, he continued in Bohemian.
"You are not mere shields of the empire—you are my proud subjects, the pride of the Habsburgs. Your valor guarantees the empire's survival, and the empire shall reward that devotion fittingly!"
The cheers that followed dwarfed all before.
"Sláva císaři!"*
Yosha shyly turned his head my way and whispered.
"Pronunciation wasn't off, was it?"
I slipped my hand under the bench to cover the back of his.
"No. It was perfect, Your Majesty."
After the long imperial anthem, Clam-Gallas drew his sword.
"Prepare to break ranks!"
"Hm-hmm-hmm."
I found myself humming unconsciously.
Radetzky March.
As the military band struck up its grand tune, the soldiers moved on Clam-Gallas's orders.
"Entire formation, right face!"
I never noticed as a soldier, but from up here? Damn, it's cool. No wonder Yosha had been hyped for days.
"Forward march!"
At his command, they moved as one.
Standard-bearers dipped flags toward the emperor; Yosha snapped a crisp salute.
I nodded beside him, receiving their respects.
His expression's definitely different now.
During the review, the soldiers' eyes were filled with tension and fear—the terror of messing up before absolute power.
But now, marching past? Exaggerating a bit, it's like frozen tuna came alive as mackerel.
"Sisi."
Yosha kept his eyes on the troops but addressed me.
"You were right."
I hid my smile behind my fan.
"About what?"
"...Nothing."
Boring.
Now the Hungarian nobles must be sweating.
They thought they were the emperor's favorites, but here's mighty Bohemia stepping up with his full backing.
Seethe, get desperate.
That's how I can shake Hungary up.
Yosha chose Bohemia and Vienna; Mother-in-law chose Greater Germany.
I'm their one lifeline.
The last artillery unit passed, dust swirling, and the frenzied breakup ended.
Clam-Gallas, drenched in sweat, rushed to the platform's base and drew his sword once more.
"Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empress!"
Perfect finish to the end.
We boarded the carriage amid the roaring cheers.
As the curtains fell, sealing us off, Yosha slumped into his seat.
"You worked hard, Empress."
Hmm, not quite.
I narrowed my eyes and veiled my mouth with the fan.
"...You worked hard, Sisi."
There we go.
"You too."
Even easy Bohemia took this much coaxing for Yosha.
How am I gonna handle Hungary, Galicia-Lodomeria, Venice, Croatia-Slavonia, Transylvania, Dalmatia, Tyrol?
"Yosha, so you'll use it, right?"
Ride this momentum straight to the coronation!
"That... I'll have to hear from the ministers first."
He still hasn't fully gripped Vienna.
Well, a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. Satisfied with today's gains.
***
Back at Prague Castle, an urgent wire from Vienna awaited.
Yosha's face hardened as he read the telegram handed by Count Grüne.
A letter from the Archduchess summoning him back to Vienna.
"Sardinia's movements are suspicious. Provocations continue at the border regions. His Majesty the Emperor is requested to return to Vienna at once and exercise command over the military."
— Archduchess Sophie
"What is it?"
Sisi's voice came from behind.
"Nothing. Just Mother sending a nagging letter. Says Vienna's empty, so hurry back."
Yosha didn't want to worry his pregnant wife.
'Autumn 1858.'
Sisi couldn't see the exact contents, but she knew the era.
Storm clouds over Italy.
Feigning ignorance, she changed the subject.
"Yosha."
"What?"
"We're alone now... still playing emperor?"
"Habit."
Yosha sighed inwardly in relief.
"Yosha, then you have to head back, right?"
"I'll need to prepare to leave. You should pack quickly too..."
As he answered, something felt off.
Wait. 'You have to head back'? Like talking about someone else?
"Sisi, you planning to stay here?"
"Of course. Vienna's a total construction zone right now."
Sisi leaned against the bed languidly.
"Ringstraße's kicking up dust everywhere. Constant noise on top. No good for the baby. And wouldn't I just rile Mother up more if I were there?"
Yosha couldn't argue, biting his lip harder.
Empire's crisis or wife's peace—forked path, but his heart was set.
He was Habsburg emperor.
"Prague is peaceful. Clean air, and you saw today—the people here welcome us."
"Forgive me, Sisi, for not staying by your side."
And so it was decided.
Yosha departed for Vienna at dawn next day with the guards.
Sisi watched him go until the carriage train vanished from sight, then snapped her fan shut.
"Chief lady-in-waiting. I need to write letters—have the reading maid standing by."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Russia's still recovering, so letters to Eugénie and Queen Victoria it is.