Scent - Reprise
I finally felt like I could breathe.
I sank deep into the chair.
Grüne seemed a bit flustered by Joseph and my altered demeanor, but he quickly composed himself.
"According to the report from the Kraków border guard, there's been a sharp increase in cases of Polish rebels fleeing into Galicia armed, pursued by Russian forces. The Russians are demanding border closure and the handover of the rebels..."
"Stop."
How am I supposed to get through all this if he reads every single word?
"To sum up: Russia's pissed, and the Poles are seeking asylum here to survive?"
"Yes, that's correct."
Yeah, that's why you give crisp summaries.
Ida here excels at that.
"What does the police ministry suggest?"
"Considering relations with Russia, they recommend sealing the border and handing over those who cross."
They want to quash it before it gets noisy.
But shoving the refugees back into the jaws of death will stir unrest in Galicia.
"Tell them to let them in as immigrants—no, agricultural settlers. Say Galicia needs hands for land reclamation. Russia won't have much to say about that."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
"And don't forget to confiscate their weapons."
Immigrants showing up armed? Suspicious.
Plus, what if a revolt breaks out in our Polish territories? I've invested in those oil companies there.
"Next are the finance ministry's documents for approval. They request signatures by morning."
Let's see. Why are our financials looking like this?
The deficit, marked in red ink, was far larger than I'd imagined.
Joseph always boasted, "The empire is sound," "Don't worry about money."
"The Frankfurt conference hosting costs and the emperor's entourage expenses have overrun the budget. The report requests approval for bond issuance or extending the Rothschild loan."
Uh, um...
So the emperor's been living on overdraft to keep up appearances.
Still, it's better than the original story. There, we'd lost Lombardy and paid massive reparations.
But now Lombardy holds strong, and reparations from Sardinia funded the railroads.
Right—if you can pay it back, debt's an asset.
If he'd just posed without investing in the future, I'd rip him now.
Problem is, cash is tight right now.
Sign it for now.
As soon as I finished signing, Grüne handed over the next stack.
I listened to his reports and signed repeatedly, dozens of times.
"Count Grüne, this doesn't look like it'll finish today. Is there really such a rush?"
I tried to call for a break and tea time.
"These are all today's tasks."
His reply crushed me.
"This many?"
"Yes. They need approval by today for the ministries to move tomorrow morning."
So I have to read and sign every report today?
And he's done this every day?
I flipped through a few reports.
"Streetlamp replacements and junior officer leave approvals go to His Majesty?"
"Yes."
I reached for the petitions next.
Lieutenant Hans of the 7th Regiment here. I have a beloved woman, but lack the marriage deposit. Please grant me Your Majesty's mercy to wed.
"Grüne, how does Joseph usually handle these?"
"By regulation, denied without deposit. But if the reason's compelling, His Majesty sometimes covers it from his private funds."
So he's been shelling out his own money for this crap?
"Just approve it."
「The regimental commander objects because she's a merchant's daughter.」
What, no love marriages allowed?
Approve.
Next.
「My neighbor the baron splashed mud on me from his carriage and won't apologize. Permit a duel or punish him.」
Is this a courtroom?
"Send this to the courts."
「Our family made a fortune this time. Could we add 'von'? We've donated generously.」
"Hold this. I'm not the emperor."
「My play Lovers of Vienna got censored. The emperor sneezing was deemed irreverent—please lift it.」
Sneezing's censored?
「Wounded veteran from the Italian war. Pension three months late; can't even afford gruel. Save me.」
"Show this to Her Majesty the Empress Dowager."
Mounds more petitions piled up after that.
Vienna State Opera casting disputes, court servants' sick leave requests, rural village streetlamp placement squabbles, and so on.
Is this the imperial court or a neighborhood hall?
I scrawled my pen across the next one.
Request to mediate sign size dispute between bread shop owners in Vienna District 3.
Thud.
I set down the pen.
I couldn't stomach it anymore.
"Count."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"From now on, handle this trivia at the ministry level. Does he think the emperor's office is a village complaint desk?"
"But His Majesty wishes to hear every subject's voice directly..."
"That's not hearing—it's wasting administrative power. Tell them missing big issues is the real sin."
I dumped all the petitions into the rejection bin.
"Reject them all. That's what we pay ministers for."
Ah, but just in case.
"Bring back only the truly critical ones the emperor must see, sorted."
Grüne didn't argue much.
He's only stood in for about three weeks as regent proxy, and never expected the empress to handle each one personally.
Lunchtime already.
I rose and headed to the empress's apartments.
Hmm.
I'd mistaken it for room odor earlier, but arriving at the empress palace confirmed it.
"Count Grüne. You smell just like His Majesty the Emperor."
"Pardon?"
His composed facade shattered; his voice cracked in panic.
"Not that I'm seeing you as a man."
"I didn't think that, Your Majesty."
I entered the room and called to Grüne outside the door.
"Count Grüne. Come in."
The door's open anyway, and maids are here.
"Stand in the middle there."
I placed Grüne in the room's center and circled him slowly.
"Stay still. Why do you keep turning your face?"
"Your Majesty the Empress, this is... too close."
"I said stay still. You're scattering the scent moving like that."
His Adam's apple bobbed sharply. Ignoring it, I brought my nose near his uniform shoulder.
Sniff sniff.
"Strange. It's definitely this smell."
A subtle violet soap scent, layered with something heavy and indefinable.
Joseph's scent, for sure.
"Königseck, bring perfumes—heavy ones."
I dabbed Königseck's perfumes on test strips and sniffed.
Viennese perfumers and Paris gifts.
"Odd. Behind the soap, that heavy... dry grass burning smell."
"Your Majesty, perhaps it's old paper from the emperor's study clinging to him?"
Grüne offered lamely.
"Hm, could be. He handles paper all day."
I set down the bottle and went to the vanity.
Screw empress dignity—my ears were about to fall off.
Regent or not, tiara, necklace, earrings, bracelets, brooch.
I stripped off the full parure and waited for lunch.
"No audiences today?"
"No, they're paused while His Majesty is away."
Good.
"These are heavier than they look. You wouldn't know, Count."
Today's lunch!
White wine-blanch asparagus, main of butter-grilled trout with lemon-herb potatoes!
"Count Grüne, eat with the maids."
I savored slowly, blissed out.
This is it.
Dessert: milk pudding!
"Urp."
"Your Majesty, are you all right?"
Ate too much?
I've been dieting lately...
"I'm fine. Just overdid it after so long."
"Shall I fetch the physician?"
"Peppermint tea only."
I waved it off, but Esterházy ordered Königseck separately.
"Königseck, to the kitchen for peppermint tea now, and natron from the apothecary."
Königseck rushed out.
Why though? Undercooked trout?
Word of my indigestion paled the head chef; he entered white-faced.
He dropped to his knees, forehead to floor.
"I deserve death! Your Majesty!"
My head throbbed; it was just noise.
It's mere indigestion.
I lacked strength to reply.
That's why I eat light—to avoid this mess.
Not just the chef—look, tasters and cupbearers prostrate too.
"Urk."
Hot bile surged up.
Esterházy paled, unfolding an envelope hastily.
"Königseck, when...?"
Oh god.
I clamped my mouth with one hand, gripped Esterházy's arm with the other.
"Your Majesty!"
I shook my head, biting my lip—no reply.
Vomiting before servants and maids? Worse than death.
Cold sweat soaked my back, but I gritted teeth, straightened.
"Your Majesty, vomit here! Holding it spreads the poison!"
If poison, you'd be gone already—your head rolling.
The chef wailed; I endured calmly.
"...Dismiss everyone. Now."
"Your Majesty!"
"Now!"
I ordered dismissal, yet more gathered?
Grüne back mid-meal, breathless.
No choice—move to another room.
Supported by Esterházy, I headed to the bedroom.
Door shut, eyes gone—then I retched with held breath.
Frankfurt, Thurn und Taxis Palace.
The so-called Federal Palace hosted monarchs in heated conference.
"Your Majesty, urgent wire from Vienna."
Joseph frowned.
Bavarian King Maximilian II was ranting on German Confederation reform.
"Later."
"It's about Her Majesty the Empress."
At "empress," Joseph signaled pardon and took the wire.
Her Majesty the Empress collapsed from severe vomiting during luncheon. Physician confirms pregnancy. Currently resting.
Pregnancy? She's with child?
Joseph had confessed onanism as sin but never abstained fully.
A blessing from God... or punishment?
As if mocking his efforts, God bestowed new life.