Why Budapest? Head Before Heart
I wondered why it had to be Budapest. Gazing across at Pest from Buda Palace, that thought crossed my mind.
Right now, the Hungarians call it Pest-Buda, so why does it become Budapest later? More people live in Pest, and commerce is way more bustling there too. Shouldn't it be Pestbuda, then?
"What a charming view, isn't it, Your Majesty?"
Andrássy Gyula popped in unexpectedly.
"It really is. So full of life—it's a sight for sore eyes."
I gave a short reply and turned my gaze back across the river.
Pest on the far side of the Danube was worlds apart from this Buda. Dense clusters of buildings, carriages and crowds in constant motion, countless trading ships plying the waters.
Well, Buda's the one with the royal palace, so it makes sense for it to come first.
"Your Majesty seems quite taken with it over there."
Taking my silence as agreement, Andrássy stepped closer and leaned on the railing.
"We Hungarians often quarrel about it—what to name the city."
So they're pondering it too, huh.
"Most Hungarians prefer Pestbuda. They believe the fierce heart of the plains beats across the river in Pest."
Andrássy pointed with his long fingers at the majestic Széchenyi Bridge spanning the Danube.
"Before that bridge was built, Buda and Pest were like different worlds. Past and future, nobility and commoners, silence and clamor."
A languid smile spread across his lips as he glanced slyly at me.
The Hungarian maids say he's always been like this.
"But I see it differently."
"Which side are you on, Count?"
I asked out of politeness. His eyes were sparkling like he was just dying to say it.
"I'm for Budapest."
As if he'd been waiting, he turned to face me squarely.
"Unexpected. I figured a lover of Pest's freedoms like you, Count Andrássy, would lean that way."
He's a revolutionary at heart. A man who's lived in London and Paris, putting Buda first?
In response to my doubt, he shrugged.
"I won't deny that vibrant Pest is Hungary's torso, of course. But Your Majesty..."
His gaze drifted slowly—agonizingly slowly—from Pest's panorama to my face.
Like he was savoring a painting. Intensely so.
"No matter how vigorously the heart beats, without a head, it's just a beast, isn't it?"
Ugh, so cheesy.
This feels familiar from somewhere...
"Her Majesty the Empress stands here in Buda now—the head of Hungary, the only one who can bestow reason on wild Pest and crown it."
Ah, so that's the buildup he was laying for this line.
"So Buda must come first. Wherever Your Majesty is becomes Hungary's beginning... and end."
Andrássy continued in a romantic tone, like whispering sweet nothings in a lover's ear, melodic and dreamy.
Ha, now I remember.
Just like that mustachioed fox said back then—minus the overly flowery flair.
That passionate fervor when wrapping his ambitions in romantic rhetoric.
But right now, even that gaze of his feels endearing.
"Amusing."
I snapped my fan shut and tilted my head toward him slightly.
"Go on. I want to know more about Hungary."
At my brief permission, Andrássy's eyes sparkled like stars.
He gestured toward Pest across the Danube, ablaze with lights.
"Unbridled freedom is mere indulgence, passion without order is madness. So Buda must lead. Only when this place where Your Majesty stands becomes first can Pest across the way truly gain value as part of the 'kingdom.'"
He whispered it like reciting a love poem, in a hazy, honeyed voice.
"Your Majesty is the only one who can crown the wild Hungarian plains with dignity."
Overly generous praise.
In Vienna, they finger-point at me as some Bavarian who doesn't know etiquette.
Yet here in Hungary, the men lift me up like a goddess.
So what if it echoes Napoleon's bluster? If that bluster shields me from the high nobility, I'll gladly play along.
I even liked their rough sincerity.
I gazed quietly across the river.
Glamorous, glittering Pest; serene, elegant Buda.
"Budapest... nice ring to it."
That was enough.
"An honor."
He bowed deeply.
"The Danube will remember this moment forever."
I smiled wordlessly and unfurled my fan again.
By the way, that line: 'only when this place... can Pest across the way truly gain value as part of the 'kingdom.''
If you're gonna hide it, hide it all the way.
Budapest gains value as part of the 'empire.'
"When will you introduce me to your wife, Count Andrássy?"
Unlike how the papers paint our relationship as some platonic ideal, he's actually close with his wife. Probably.
"If it pleases Your Majesty, shall I summon her to the ball... right now?"
Yeah, you've done your homework on me.
Sensing my mood over stiff protocol. No wonder Hungarian noblewomen are head over heels.
"Now sounds good."
I flashed a satisfied smile.
"No need for formalities—just tea, nice and casual."
"As you wish."
He retreated with a polite smile.
Hunyadi approached cautiously once he was gone.
"Hunyadi, what is it?"
"Your Majesty, it's Andrássy."
"Yes, Count Andrássy."
You might call him by his first name fondly since you're Hungarian, but not me.
"Gyula is the given name, Andrássy the family name."
Ah, what...?
"But... Karoline Hunyadi, Ida Ferenc... even when introduced, it was Andrássy Gyula?"
I'm not clueless that Hungary does family name first, like Korea.
Even that dignified Ferenc Deák switched to Western order—'Ferenc Deák'—to avoid confusing me.
So I thought Andrássy was the first name, Gyula the family?
"He played a trick on me."
Calling another man by his first name in public.
If it had been outside my palace—where it's just my people—it could've been a real scandal.
Vienna's picky noblewomen would've mocked Joseph: the Empress casually tossing around a Hungarian rebel's first name, no decorum.
And yet Andrássy enjoyed it.
Definitely no ordinary player.
I let out a short sigh and fiddled with my fan.
Yeah, he didn't etch his name in history for nothing.
Like Moltke or Bismarck—names not everyone knows, but there all the same.
"Thanks for the heads-up, Hunyadi. I'll be more careful from now on."
I replied flatly.
"Shall I correct him? Go set it straight right now...?"
"No, let it be. Water under the bridge—no need to stir drama. If I make a fuss now, it'll just amuse him more."
I looked out the window at Pest, shrouded in night.
Foxes hiding amid those dazzling lights.
Andrássy leads the pack.
Andrássy, Tíser, Deák.
Hungary's big three.
Best keep a proper distance.
I took a breather and picked up the Hungarian administrative papers on the table.
If it weren't for the politics, I'd love Hungary too.
My culture's closer to here than Bavarian-Austrian, really.
Even now, reading these documents.
They write dates year-month-day, addresses city-street-number.
Europe's island dwellers, the Magyars.
Hungarian thinking mirrors my soul's homeland.
The love Hungary gives me sometimes even shakes me.
I took the quill and signed the bottom of the papers.
Austria and Hungary—both stubborn little treasures who won't listen worth a damn.
Austria acts like the eldest, neck in a brace, nagging 'Mother, mind your dignity!' Hungary's got second-child syndrome, slamming doors: 'You only love big bro! I'm running away!' Neither listens. And with the third and fourth lurking in the corner, watching...
"Königseck, send the donation to the orphanage."
I sat before the mirror, preparing to receive Andrássy again.
"Countess Katalin Kendeffy holds great prestige among Hungarian nobles. Not just her beauty—they say she's an intellectual rivaling Count Andrássy himself."
Hunyadi shared intel while fixing my hair.
"Does she know about her husband's pranks?"
"Who knows? A countess might even enjoy them. Hungarians have a surprising playful streak."
I couldn't help but laugh at Hunyadi's words.
Hungarian maids really perk up back home.
"Königseck, fetch the inventory list."
"What kind, Your Majesty?"
"That porcelain from Napoleon last time—where'd we put it?"
"In the furniture storage. How about gifting the Sévres porcelain jewel box?"
Formal enough, symbolic too.
"Perfect. Prep that and send it to the countess."
As the maids habitually reached for violet perfume, I shook my head and pointed to another.
"Guerlain today."
Its sharp freshness doesn't suit my image, so I rarely reach for it... but time to remind Vienna's nobles why they hate me.
Soon Andrássy reappeared with a lady in tow.
"Your Majesty, I present Andrássyné Kendeffy Katinka."
Wife of Andrássy from the Kendeffy family, Katinka... right?
Hungary's different in every way.
"No need for that. Thanks for coming on short notice, Countess. Count Andrássy bragged so much about his wife, I got curious."
Katalin Kendeffy's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
"He's got such florid rhetoric it offends etiquette—my apologies for the impropriety."
"Not at all. That rhetoric taught me plenty about Hungary. Right, Count Andrássy?"
Andrássy glanced awkwardly at his wife and chuckled.
...You're a bit whipped too, huh.
"Countess, he said Buda's Hungary's head, and I'm the one to crown it. Does he spout that romance at home too?"
As my question ended, Katalin let out a quiet, amused laugh.
"Who knows, Your Majesty. Outside, he debates Hungary's heart, but at home he's just a plain father fretting over the children's toys. That show for you is probably his most polished mask out of thousands."
"Masks? Countess, I preferred his rough sincerity over Pest's lights."
Her too-serious demeanor had me covering my mouth with my fan and waving it off.
"Kidding. Unlike my love for Hungary, I don't really know any noblewomen here."
That's why I called you, Countess. Buol in London, Pauline in Paris, Katinka in Hungary.
She rose and curtsied.
"If my humble insights can aid Your Majesty, I'll gladly be your Hungary."
"It's late—stay the night in the palace."
"An honor, Your Majesty."