Mourning in Milan
“Awake already?”
Even after staying up so late with work yesterday, you're not tired?
“You're already buried in business.”
My back hurts…
“Today's the start of the Milan tour, right?”
This time, he couldn't ignore it like last time.
“It won't be empty like before. Lots of Tuscan nobles have come.”
The unification movement essentially carries the character of a liberal revolution.
That's the dilemma why Joseph can't do either Greater Germanism or imperial unification—it's a catch-22.
Nationalism stems from the people themselves, so it's like, you dare challenge us?
“I've heard the unification fervor among Milan's subjects has died down.”
Invading the Papal States means they won't recognize the Pope or the Church.
“What on earth are they trying to make Italy out of?”
That's intriguing, yeah.
“Out of Italian, obviously. Like those Paris bastards.”
So, do Italians even exist?
What they call Italian is really just Tuscan dialect. They probably use French more than Italian.
“The Paris emperor's been thrilled lately.”
With France intervening in the Second Opium War and Italian unification, things are falling into place smoothly.
“No dignity whatsoever.”
It's ambiguous whether it's a newspaper or just printed flattery for the emperor.
“Sissi, when do you plan to visit Galicia?”
Since they're gathered over the Polish issue, they want me to make a visit.
Galicia…
Honestly, I'm not that interested.
Unlike Joseph's anxiety, we'll never lose it.
Isn't it the result of self-determination after Prussia, Russia, and Austria all collapsed?
Besides, Poles can't abandon us anyway.
I remember more refugees crossing the border due to Russian and Prussian oppression.
We allow autonomy, recognize Polish language, and let nobles participate in politics.
“...I'll go last.”
With Italy and Hungary keeping me swamped.
Unless I had two bodies, it's impossible.
“Crossing the Carpathians isn't easy, is it?”
The distance is enormous, the mountains high and rugged, the roads muddy pits—not for nothing is it the empire's most backward region.
I slowly walked behind Joseph, who was reviewing documents, and hugged him.
“Don't worry. Like the Bohemians, they'll have no choice but to see you as their emperor.”
The Tsar seems to be softly wooing Poles and Balkan Slavs with Pan-Slavism.
Only the emperor doesn't realize we're holding the empire together with conciliatory policies. He thinks everyone else does the same.
They could never do it like we Austrians.
Joseph glanced at his watch and said to me,
“...We still have time.”
This guy, really. In a serious moment!
In the carriage heading to Milan, I grumbled at Joseph.
“Look what you've done to me.”
My back aches, my knees ache.
“At least you're wearing a comfortable dress.”
“Comfortable? This is even worse.”
Honestly, it's way too uncomfortable.
The dress I'm wearing now has no crinoline, using folds and decorations for volume instead.
The corset is simplified a bit… but is this really okay?
This feels even more suffocating.
I want to wear a uniform like Joseph.
“It's a bit more stifling than the old ones.”
When I met Joseph's eyes, I subtly asked,
“Didn't you like the Hungarian riding habit last time?”
He cleared his throat shortly and cut me off.
“Absolutely not.”
Hing.
“You're so unfair. You liked it then.”
I pouted and tapped my knee with my fan.
“We're almost there. Fix your attire.”
Joseph ignored my whining and checked outside the window.
The train slowed, and Porta Nuova Station appeared in the distance.
“Brother, sister-in-law. Welcome.”
“It's been a while, Max.”
Joseph's stiff expression softened a bit at his brother.
Say what you will, he does love his family in the end.
“Your Majesties, Emperor and Empress. Welcome to Milan.”
Charlotte was a bit cautious, probably because of the London incident last time.
“Now, to the carriage. The citizens are waiting.”
Our open carriage left Milan station and entered the city.
“It's quiet.”
Joseph nodded silently at my words.
As expected, the nobles still hated us.
The windows of the mansions lining the streets were tightly shut. I felt peeking gazes through the cracks, but no one showed themselves.
But unlike last time.
Unlike the haughty nobles, the commoners were reacting to us.
“We still need to be careful.”
Unfortunately, no revolution led by the masses has ever succeeded.
Revolutions that changed history were always led by the educated.
French Revolution, American Independence, Risorgimento, Russian Revolution, and even the future Great Compromise.
Successful revolutions were always elites directing the masses.
A headless body is just a riot, not a revolution.
The citizens on these streets are the body; the nobles behind closed windows are the head.
What we're doing now is a fight over who controls the body: the emperor or the Milan nobles.
“Long live the Emperor, guardian of the Church!”
“Long live the beautiful Empress!”
Joseph and I waved in response as we advanced, and before I knew it, La Scala theater loomed ahead.
Not completely silent, then.
Descending the carriage, the two groups of nobles were distinct: flashy Tuscan decorations versus plain dark Milanese attire without a single jewel.
“Feels like a funeral.”
“These guys should have been excommunicated too. Tsk tsk.” The Tuscans said loudly enough for the Milanese to hear.
The Pope was fervently calling for help from Catholic nations, but…
Unfortunately, the unification leader was Catholic France's firstborn; we're Rome's guardians but not eager for all-out war with France; Spain was busy with its own troubles.
I covered my mouth with my fan and whispered to Joseph,
“Don't mind them. They've just dressed in mourning for us in advance.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the funeral for the Italy they dream of is happening today.”
“I'll look forward to seeing how prepared they are.”
Joseph chuckled at my words and gripped my hand tightly.
As we took our seats in the VIP box, the conductor looked up at us tensely.
Joseph nodded leisurely, and the performance began.
The first musical.
Lively music echoed through La Scala.
Am I crazy? To let them stage operas like Nabucco or Lombardia that stir their patriotism?
So the actors this time were mostly recruited from Venice and Tyrol.
“Sancho! Look there! Don't you see those giant figures?”
“It's in Italian.”
“No one here doesn't understand anyway.” Lombard dialect, technically.
My instructions to Königseck were simple.
Not boring art, but entertainment to captivate eyes and ears right now.
“I'm worried. What if that impossible dream refers to Italian unification?”
Look at the other side.
“The Tuscans seem to think differently.”
That's why revolutions struggle to succeed.
Head and body must unite.
Only then can they defeat us oppressors, as they see it.
The defender just needs to block one.
Joseph's rigid, principled demeanor appealed more to rule-loving soldiers and officials than free-spirited citizens.
My beauty and charm were the strongest weapon to mask the empire's harsh rule.
If Joseph and I each handled the military and the people… the Milan nobles could only keep courting Sardinia and France.
“Even here, political thoughts tire me out.”
“Can't be helped as Empress.”
Honestly, I want to quit it all and live it up as Empress, but to keep this life going, politics it is.
About 300 years ago… no, that would be tiring in a different way. Toilet, bath, meals… now's better.
The musical ended triumphantly.
Everyone except the Milan nobles gave standing ovations; the isolated ones eventually clapped along reluctantly.
“Joseph, how was the musical?”
“Very good. I'm pleased.”
What an idiot I am for asking him. Crushing the nobles' noses feels great.
Hmph, I still remember the humiliation from our honeymoon.
Now, change venues for round three.
We moved straight to the theater's ballroom.
The hall glittered with chandelier lights, Tuscans and Austrian officers mingling.
But Milan nobles huddled in black in the corner, continuing their private funeral.
Not children of darkness or anything.
“Viceroy.”
Joseph called Maximilian.
“Remind the Milan nobles this ball celebrates the Empress's return. If they continue, deem it lese-majeste against the imperial family.”
“Brother, isn't that too heavy-handed?”
“I want to see how far they hold out.”
He's right, isn't he? That's why you're under suspicion, Max.
Better handle it before Joseph finds out.
Königseck's from Vienna, so maybe not…
“Hunyadi, go tell those black-clad noblewomen my words.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Say I want to comfort the grieving ladies.”
“Understood.”
“I trust your judgment.”
Bring the most elegant-looking one.