Titania's Enchanted Forest
Franz Joseph wore a grave expression as he received reports on the front lines.
'Even without France involved, it's this bad.'
Just imagining Austria launching a preemptive strike and drawing in France or even Britain sent chills down his spine. Cold sweat trickled down his back, but Franz Joseph fixed the ministers with an even icier glare.
"Foreign Minister."
Count Buol, sweating profusely, replied, "Yes, Your Majesty."
He had boasted before the war that Sardinia was nothing more than a pushover.
"Is this the extent of your diplomatic insight? Didn't you claim we could end it as a short local conflict, occupy Turin before the great powers intervened?"
"Y-Your Majesty, that was..."
"I have no interest in excuses."
Franz Joseph's gaze shifted sideways.
"Count Grüne."
The man who had opposed his military reforms, insisted on outdated army tactics, and recommended that incompetent commander—his own closest aide.
"Didn't I warn you Jullei was unreliable? I told you I'd seen it with my own eyes."
"...I have no face to show you, Your Majesty."
A suffocating silence filled the conference room. The hardliners who had advocated for war hung their heads like criminals.
"Where are the mouths that kept yapping while I stayed silent?"
His sharp rebuke made their shoulders shrink even further.
"Didn't you brag that one week was plenty to cross the Ticino River and march to Turin?"
Bam!
Franz Joseph slammed his fist on the war map. The toy soldiers atop it toppled limply.
"So where is our army now? Two weeks since the war began, and they're still dawdling near the border! Has France joined without my knowledge? Or are they too scared of those Sardinian hicks to advance?!"
"Your Majesty, we apologize, but... according to General Jullei's report, supply line issues and bad weather have..."
As Grüne tried to make excuses in a crawling voice, Franz Joseph let out a hollow laugh. "Cautious? Are we fighting the Seven Years' War here? Crossing rivers only to retreat, halting for rain! Did Jullei go to war or on a picnic by the riverbank!"
Franz Joseph slumped weakly into his chair and waved them away with a cold tone, as if dismissing vermin. "Both of you, out of my sight. And summon Field Marshal Hess and General Benedek."
In frustration, Franz Joseph gazed at Cissy's portrait on the wall. 'Is Vienna like being underwater for you?''Sometimes. It feels suffocating.'
He opened a drawer and stared at the letter of credit from Turn und Taxis, a certain plan forming in his mind. 'If she hates Vienna... I could build her a villa in the fresh air of the woods.'
The imperial hunting ground, Lainzer Tiergarten. Encircled by high stone walls and off-limits to commoners, it was Vienna's quietest, most secluded forest. Precious even to him as a hunter, but for her who yearned to escape Vienna's stifling air, it would be the perfect refuge. A castle cut off from the world, just for Cissy. Imagining building a villa there, Franz Joseph lightly stroked an imaginary mustache with his finger.
"Not a bad idea."
If they won this war, he could squeeze massive reparations from those Sardinian bastards.
"We thank Your Majesty the Empress for her grace."
As Esterházy had said, I met the subjects behind curtains. She claimed silhouettes would show through—liar. It was an event to stage the empress sharing a meal with soldiers at the front in Bohemia.
"Your Majesty, the food has arrived."
The maid set down the meal on a silver tray before me. Completely different from what the rationed subjects were getting.
Hard black bread and thin soup, just like what the soldiers received.
They'd put a bit more care into mine, at least—it was still steaming warm.
I silently picked up the spoon.
Beyond the curtain, it was deathly quiet. More nerve-wracking than dancing in Venice....
I soaked the bread in the soup forever, but it stayed tough. I shoved every last crumb into my mouth and washed it down with warm milk.
"Tell them it was good."
The empty bowls and my voice carried beyond the curtain, and cheers erupted from the subjects.
"Long live Her Majesty the Empress!"
Though not even my shadow showed, they raved like devotees receiving a saint's revelation. Honestly, I still don't get pulling off events like this. Have you ever seen citizens cheering wildly because the president ate fish cakes at a market? ...No. Still, it felt good.
After the event, I slipped away quietly at Esterházy's signal, curtain still drawn. If I weren't pregnant, I could've met them face-to-face.
Back in my room, I went straight for the milk. "Black bread's this brutal, huh." Felt like chewing bricks. My jaw still hurts. I'd thought 19th-century food was decent compared to later eras because I'd only tasted palace cuisine.
The maids were setting the table in my room when—
"Your Majesty, a letter from His Majesty the Emperor has arrived."
Oh? Not a love letter, then? He always wrote those on separate paper so I could read them myself.
I polished off a plate of sauerkraut to sate my hunger. "Read it. I'm eager to hear it."
She hurried over and began reciting the letter. Wonder what it starts with today. My angel? My beloved child? My everything? The only one? Sweet Cissy?
"My adored Cissy."
Pffft.
"Your Majesty, are you all right?"
I choked back a cough with all my might. Another new move from him....
"Cough cough, I'm fine. Continue."
Irma gave me a worried look but cleared her throat and pressed on.
Today, while rebuking the ministers, I felt to my bones how incompetent they are. Staring at their stupid faces made me miss your clever gaze so much I could hardly bear it.
As you said, Vienna is stifling. Even I find it suffocating at times—how must it be for free-spirited you.
So I've resolved myself.
Once I lead us to victory in this war and return, I'll gift you Titania's forest.
Like the fairy queen's woods in your beloved Shakespeare play, I'll build a free castle just for you to breathe in.
So please, wait for me there. From your little husband.
This guy's lost it. It was a love letter!
The maids teared up in, and Irma clutched the letter to her chest in rapture.
"...Oh, Your Majesty. How can he be so romantic?"
Am I the only sane one in this room?
"I see."
I struggled to stay composed. He knew the recitation maid would read it...
Whisper it like that when we're alone. I cleared my throat and told Irma to fetch pen and paper.
"I need to write a reply."
"Shall I take dictation, Your Majesty?"
Irma poised the pen with sparkling eyes.
"Prepare it as an official dispatch."
Gazing at the fresh official stationery, I pondered briefly before uttering the first line.
"To my beloved Oberon."
Irma's pen hesitated.
"Oberon... the fairy king, Your Majesty?"
"Yes. Titania's husband can't be just a 'little husband'—he must be the fairy king."
I smiled faintly and continued.
I eagerly await the forest you've promised. Today, I shared rough bread with the soldiers and, for a moment, felt the weight you bear. Thanks to your letter, fresh air fills my heart. I always support your views. You alone are the empire's master, and your judgment alone is right.
So stand firm and claim total victory before returning. P.S. Irma read this with a deeply moving voice. Next time, please keep it dignified enough that even a recitation maid won't make my cheeks flush.
Your queen, Titania.
Finally, as if it were official correspondence, the double-headed eagle seal was stamped.
"Your Majesty, a letter from Her Majesty the Empress has arrived."
Franz Joseph brightened briefly, but spotting the official dispatch stationery, he turned back to the map. "Military chamberlain. Read it."
Grüne cut open the seal and began the first line—his eyes trembled from that instant. "Your Majesty, this is..."
As Grüne stammered awkwardly, Franz Joseph's brows furrowed.
"The situation at the front is urgent. Are my words not reaching you?"
Normally, he'd hand an empress's letter directly to the emperor, but now, little better than a criminal himself, Grüne couldn't defy the order. He squeezed his eyes shut and recited the opening.
"To my, b-b-beloved Oberon... Hic!"
The man he'd been berating as incompetent days ago now trembling as he read the empress's coquettish letter—it was torture for everyone. Shame too excruciating to lift their heads for the reader Grüne and listener Franz Joseph; for the generals swallowing coughs, the endurance to stifle laughter for the emperor's dignity.
"...Your queen, Titania."
With the letter's close, Grüne dropped his head in exhaustion.
Franz Joseph had been focused on the map's troop movements, assuming it was a war report or encouragement, which was why he'd ordered the aide to read—his downfall.
Field Marshal Hess fiddled with his mustache through a fake cough; General Benedek buried his nose in the map, shoulders shaking.
Franz Joseph's face flushed tomato-red.
He snatched the letter roughly from Grüne's quivering hand.
"...Ahem!"
With a loud fake cough, he deliberately commanded in a stern voice.
"Resume the meeting. Everyone... pretend you heard nothing."
But the conference room brimmed with the emperor and empress's sickly-sweet, mortifying vibe. He carefully pocketed the letter deep in his uniform's inner pouch, avoiding crumpling it.
'Cissy, this must be your revenge.'
He bit his lip hard, but couldn't stop his mouth corners twitching upward.
'Oberon and Titania. Telling me not to stray.'
Her coquettish concern made focusing on the meeting a Herculean effort.
"Now there's one more reason to end this war quickly."
Field Marshal Hess, once Radetzky's chief of staff, teased the distracted emperor with a playful tone.