The Beginning of the Rift
"I can't go."
Franz Joseph gave me a troubled look as he spoke.
"Why not?"
He continued without even pausing his spoon midway through sipping his soup.
"I don't want to ruffle the feathers of our allies."
The Great Game was in full swing right now. Guess there's no helping it.
"Besides, the empire's situation isn't great either. Hungary's still restless, and Lombardy-Venetia is only quiet for the moment—who knows what might happen if I leave the empire unattended."
He wasn't entirely wrong.
"So, you're not sending anyone at all? You know everyone else will be doing diplomacy at the Expo."
"...We'll send a minister."
"France is sending the emperor and empress in person. They're already cozying up to Britain. A minister alone won't cut it."
"But I can't go."
Franz Joseph looked at me with a pained expression.
"Then, how about I go instead?"
"You?"
"If the empress herself goes to promote Austrian arts, the British press will take notice. Even Queen Victoria couldn't snub me outright."
"It'll be tough. You sure you're up for it?"
"Don't worry. I'll go, hold my head high, and show them the Habsburg dignity."
I managed my expression and flashed an elegant smile.
"Take Maximilian with you."
"With the Archduke?"
"The Archduchess too."
Hm, not a bad idea.
It was right around when Britain would start building ironclads after seeing Crimean War steamships.
Charlotte and I ignored each other, but she might even get a warmer welcome in London than me.
"Got it. Oh, Franz Joseph, one favor."
"What is it?"
"Can I create a new position?"
He chuckled softly.
"As long as it's not adding to my guard officers."
"It's a woman."
"Who is this woman who's captured your heart?"
"A trainee hairdresser at the Vienna Court Theater."
"The madam?"
"No, an apprentice."
Franz Joseph dabbed his mouth with his napkin and nodded.
"Handle it yourself. Appointments in the empress's household are your domain. Just leave the background check to Baron Bach, alright?"
"Of course."
My steps were light on the way back to my room after dinner.
The heart of the Industrial Revolution—and the Crystal Palace, which wouldn't exist in the future!
I regretted missing the Eiffel Tower last time in Paris, but this was different.
A limited-edition tourist spot from the future!
I should do some shopping while I'm at it.
Not Vienna's stuffy dresses, but the latest British fashion trends.
Maximilian would be holed up at the shipyards, and Charlotte busy with tea time at Victoria's—practically a vacation for me.
Still two years away, so I had time to think about what artwork to exhibit.
"Your Majesty, a telegram from the Queen of the Two Sicilies has arrived."
On my way to see the children, Countess Esterházy-Lichtenstein stopped me, and I had to read the dispatch from the Two Sicilies.
"From the Two Sicilies?"
Archduchess Maria Theresa of Austria-Este.
Albrecht's younger sister, whom I'd chatted with before.
Not much connection to me.
What could she want?
To my beloved sister.
Ferdinand II has passed into eternal rest.
With Father-in-law gone, my husband has ascended the throne, but my mother-in-law watches our every move.
She interferes in state affairs as a given and nitpicks at every turn.
— Your sister, Maria Theresa
What the...?
"Isn't she the Queen of the Two Sicilies?"
I read the telegram again.
"Ferdinand II has passed away. My sister has become queen."
Ah, so her younger sister became queen.
The contents sounded a bit like my own situation.
I turned around and headed back the way I'd come.
"Franz Joseph."
"Sisi? What's wrong?"
"Fancy a cup of tea together?"
Count Grüne couldn't hide his displeasure, but according to what Countess Esterházy-Lichtenstein had heard, he'd already fallen out of favor with Franz Joseph.
"Didn't you just leave?"
I pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.
"A telegram came from the Two Sicilies."
"The Two Sicilies?"
With its strong ties to Lombardy-Venetia, which Franz Joseph was most concerned about right now, it naturally piqued his interest.
I placed the telegram on his desk for him to see.
"Ferdinand II is dead. My sister is now queen."
Franz Joseph's face hardened in an instant.
"Lord Chamberlain."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"What was your analysis of Francesco?"
"He's said to be mild-mannered, never defying his father's will—a dutiful son...."
Grüne hesitated a moment, glancing at Franz Joseph before continuing.
"But the prevailing view is that he lacks decisiveness as a monarch. There are also rumors he devotes himself more to prayer than governance due to his deep piety."
Franz Joseph clicked his tongue in disdain.
"Italy right now is a powder keg with Sardinia eyeing unification and those Red Shirt rabble-rousers running wild. And you're telling me a monk has taken the throne instead of a king?"
He glanced at me briefly, then shook his head.
"Don't even say you want to go."
...How did he know?
"Your eyes give it away—you were thinking exactly that. It's only been a week since your purification rite. Prague to Naples? Out of the question."
Damn, he's sharp.
"You approved London, though."
He gently pushed my pouted lip back in as he replied.
"That's still two years away."
"I'm worried about my sister."
"I get it, but your health comes first. The physician might faint if he heard."
Franz Joseph drew a firm line.
"Besides, Naples is dangerous right now. The Expo is a peaceful festival, but Naples is a ticking time bomb. I can't send you into the lion's den knowing that."
"Alright, I'll give up on going then."
As I backed down easily, relief washed over his face.
"Good thinking. Your health is the priority."
"But write one letter for me."
I propped my chin on my hand and looked at him.
"Do you know who's pulling the strings behind that weak-willed Francesco II?"
"Don't tell me—you want me to write to your aunt?"
"Exactly. Dowager Queen Maria Theresa. Our Habsburg aunt."
Franz Joseph furrowed his brow, looking troubled.
"That noble Archduchess of the Habsburgs has my freshly crowned sister-in-law in a chokehold. Interfering in politics is standard, and she nitpicks everything."
I shot a glance at Grüne.
"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
It had to remind him of how his own mother, the Archduchess Sophie, had treated me.
"Aunt's got a strong personality, sure. And she's conservative."
"Franz Joseph, if Francesco is weak, then his queen needs to step up with some backbone."
Like how he holds the center, and I win the people's hearts.
"But if the mother-in-law crushes her daughter-in-law's spirit and keeps her son wrapped in her skirts, what happens to the Two Sicilies?"
"The Papal States will be hemmed in north and south. Lombardy-Venetia will be next."
I nodded.
"But won't it look like meddling in internal affairs?"
"She's the stepmother, isn't she?"
Francesco II wasn't Maria Theresa's biological son. And Franz Joseph seemed to grasp the implication.
"...I see. Grüne."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Franz Joseph took a breath, calmly composing the letter's contents in his mind.
"If the king's authority wavers in the eyes of the court and abroad, busybodies might harbor irreverent suspicions that the Dowager Queen favors some successor not of the true line. This would tarnish not only the Habsburg honor but even question her noble piety. Please convey that she should bolster the king and queen to prevent any such needless rumors."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
I quietly set down my teacup and rose.
I'd done what I could for my sister. Lingering would just hinder his work.
"I'll head out now. I've kept you too long."
Franz Joseph paused his pen and looked up.
"Already?"
"The empire's top civil servant needs to work without a pest like me in the way."
I leaned over the desk and planted a light kiss on his cheek.
"Keep up the good work, my emperor."
He smiled faintly, squeezing my hand briefly before letting go.
"We can have dinner together tonight too."
"I'll be waiting."
In stark contrast to the raucous festivities in Prague, a heavy gloom settled over Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna, muting even the joy of victory.
"Your Highness, Count Buol has finally been dismissed."
Baron Bach's voice trembled slightly.
Archduchess Sophie silently scanned the personnel file for the new foreign minister that Baron Bach had presented.
Alexander von Hübner.
Her eyebrow twitched.
"That lowborn Metternich lackey as foreign minister?"
A commoner of dubious origins, risen by sheer ambition. Far too coarse to handle the noble Habsburg diplomacy. It was an outrageous appointment Franz Joseph would never have made on his own.
Someone's influence was undeniable.
"Hübner has taken the empress's hand."
Sophie tossed the papers onto the desk.
But something nagged at her.
"What's this with the self-proclaimed liberal empress?"
Baron Bach shared her doubt.
"Indeed. Making conciliatory gestures toward Hungary and Italy while appointing Metternich's disciple as foreign minister is ideologically contradictory."
Pondering deeply, Sophie arrived at her own conclusion.
"No, not contradictory. It's one of two things. Either to bolster Franz's imperial authority simply, or..."
To cast aside Vienna's nobility and remake the multi-ethnic empire.
Sophie saw through what the empress desired.
"Or perhaps she doesn't want to let go of either."
Her hand gripped the armrest tightly.
"The empress is turning Franz from emperor of the Germans into father to those mongrel ethnicities—isolating our Habsburg foundation in Vienna."
To Sophie, who prized Austria's identity as head of the German Confederation, Sisi's multi-ethnic embrace seemed a perilous gamble shaking the empire's roots.
That's why she chose Hübner. He can only breathe by clinging to the emperor and empress's power.
"The empress has found herself a starving hound eager to wag its tail. A fierce dog that can't snag a scrap without her."