The Imperial Table
“Ahh… my head hurts. Did I drink too much?”
I opened my eyes at the sound of fresh sheets rustling, but Franz Joseph was nowhere to be seen.
He must’ve already left. Well, at least the mission was accomplished.
Ugh! My whole body ached. It felt just like the day after overdoing leg day at the gym.
“So thorough, really…”
As I muttered to myself in a mix of pain and self-mockery, the maids flooded into the room at the sound of the bell, led by the impassive Countess Sophie Esterházy-Lichtenstein.
“Your Majesty, did you cough?”
Her voice was the same as always, but there was something subtly different in the way she looked at me—not reverence for the empress, but an extreme caution, like handling a fragile relic.
Two maids approached and touched my arms, lifting my body as lightly as a feather.
On the way to the bathroom, I glanced back at the bed and caught Sophie Esterházy giving a tiny nod to another senior maid.
The maids who received the signal glided silently to the bed and began carefully removing the sheets marked by last night’s traces. There was no irreverence or curiosity in their movements.
Only solemnity, as if they were handling the empire’s most sacred artifact. They really don’t seem human. Sure, it’s something special, but for them, it’s a silent ritual confirming the first button of royal succession has been fastened.
As the bathroom door opened, thick scents of lavender and rose wafted out with the steamy heat.
The marble tub was filled with milky warm water, like diluted milk.
As the warm water seeped into my throbbing muscles, a sigh of relief escaped me unbidden.
“So soothing…”
The tension from last night and the pain of today melted away in the gentle warmth. Under the maids’ meticulous care, I surrendered to the tub and closed my eyes.
I’d crossed the threshold of girlhood. This body was no longer entirely mine—it belonged to the Habsburgs now.
Last night’s deal had succeeded.
The empress’s first duty was fulfilled. But thinking of Franz Joseph’s face brought not triumph, but a subtle emptiness. What was he thinking right now?
When I emerged from the bath, the bed was already perfectly made, as if nothing had happened.
But everything had changed. The maids’ attitudes toward me, Sophie Esterházy’s gaze, even the weight of silence in this room.
I was no longer the wild Bavarian duchess—I had become a living symbol to continue the Habsburg line.
The first hurdle was cleared.
After the bath and dressing, breakfast was laid out.
Hmm, breakfast is nice.
Thanks to the doctor’s orders, Sophie Archduchess no longer interrupted my meals, and Sophie Esterházy had become far more cooperative than before.
The moment I finished eating, Sophie Esterházy approached more cautiously than usual.
“Your Majesty, by order of Sophie Archduchess.”
What now?
“This evening, Your Majesty will attend the official state banquet, the Hof Tafel, with His Majesty the Emperor.”
Hof Tafel?
I’ve been eating all three meals here until now…
Sophie Esterházy explained slowly, reading my reaction.
“It is the most formal imperial banquet. This is proof that Her Highness the Archduchess finally acknowledges Your Majesty as a true member of the Habsburgs, and it will be the occasion for Your Majesty to display the dignity of an empress before all the empire’s nobles for the first time.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
So… the reason I’ve been eating alone is because Sophie Archduchess never invited me to these banquets?
Her explanation continued.
“The Hof Tafel is not merely a meal. It is a living ritual where the empire’s hierarchy and order unfold before your eyes. His Majesty the Emperor and Your Majesty at the center, with the archdukes and highest nobles seated according to rank.”
She paused and looked me straight in the eye.
“And there is one most important rule, Your Majesty. At the Hof Tafel, no one makes a sound or converses freely. Everything proceeds by prescribed etiquette and signals.”
Silence sounds good. At least no nagging from Sophie Archduchess.
Reading my positive expression, Sophie Esterházy added one more thing.
“Also, the moment His Majesty the Emperor finishes eating, all plates are cleared immediately.”
Doesn’t that mean my eating time depends entirely on the emperor? If he’s a gourmand who savors slowly, great—but if not?
Hiding my curiosity, I asked as politely as possible to maintain dignity.
“As it’s my first banquet, I worry about mistakes. To follow His Majesty’s etiquette, it would be good to know how long he usually takes to finish.”
Sophie Esterházy answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“His Majesty was a soldier.”
Ah.
No matter where in the world, soldiers eat fast.
I forced a smile and said,
“Sound advice, chief lady-in-waiting.”
A soldier’s eating speed… how long could it be?
This way, I’d starve to death. Koreans run on full stomachs…!
A hungry empress has no dignity.
My eyes caught a small fruit basket that hadn’t been cleared yet.
Before the maids could take it, I swiftly wrapped an apple and apricot in a handkerchief and hid them in the drawer.
Evening came, and I was once again the star of a doll dress-up game.
“Your Majesty, hold your breath more.”
“Hngh.”
The corset was tighter than this morning, and my ribs screamed with every breath.
The dress for the Hof Tafel was incomparably more lavish and heavy than usual.
Silver silk embroidered with hundreds of pearls, and on my head, dozens of diamond ornaments including the ‘Star of the Sea’ that Franz Joseph had gifted me.
When Franz Joseph came to fetch me, he gazed at me in genuine awe.
“Sisi… it’s as if all the stars in the heavens have descended upon you.”
Thanks.
“You flatter me, Your Majesty.”
The corridor to the banquet hall, under his escort, was shrouded in suffocating silence.
Wow…
Dozens of chandeliers illuminated the marble floor, and the long table beneath them was a work of art in itself.
The empire’s top nobles stood motionless in rank order, sitting only as we took our seats.
I swallowed hard.
All of this was just a mirage for me.
Your Majesty, you may only eat what is within reach of your hand.
Right, no servers plating food for you.
So despite the feast, only what’s in front of me is mine.
That steak out of reach? Not mine.
Franz Joseph said a brief prayer and picked up his utensils.
The moment I’d scooped my soup just three times…
He lightly dabbed his mouth with his napkin and set down his utensils.
Th-this… what…!
Servants glided in silently, clearing everything from the table.
The vegetables I was just about to try, the bread—all gone.
And the dozens of dishes I’d only eyed from afar!
The second course followed: various roasts and sweet puddings. In front of me, turkey leg and sugar-glazed fruit.
Finally, meat!
But Franz Joseph was fast again. He tasted a couple bites of his pheasant and set down his utensils.
…I’d just sliced into the leg meat and was about to eat.
I sat stunned before my empty place setting.
After the hellish banquet ended and I returned to change into comfortable clothes,
“…To think the emperor would betray me like this.”
What was this inexplicable sense of betrayal?
Yeah, it had to be hunger.
I dismissed the maids, pulled out the hidden fruit from the drawer, and munched away.
Franz Joseph, this grudge won’t fade easily.
Gurgle.
…Fruit alone doesn’t fill you up.
At least the good news was that the emperor would be late tonight.
The emperor’s office was already a war room.
Inside the soundproofed chamber, Foreign Minister Count Buol and Field Marshal Radetzky awaited the emperor.
A massive map of Europe lay spread on the table, with flags marking the borders of Austria, Russia, and the Ottoman Empire.
At that moment, amid the faint cigar smoke filling the air—
“Your Majesty.”
Franz Joseph pointed straight to one spot on the map.
The Crimean Peninsula and the Danube estuary.
“The report?”
His voice was not that of the tender husband gazing at Sisi at the banquet.
“If Your Majesty gives the order, 100,000 troops can move to the border at any time. Russia is tied down by the British and French alliance at Sevastopol and has no spare forces for this front.”
Radetzky added to Buol’s words.
“War preparations are complete. With Your Majesty’s approval, we can cross the Dnieper and drive out the Russians immediately.”
Franz Joseph stared at the map in silence. Memories flashed through his mind like a lantern slide: five years ago, the empire crumbling amid the flames of the Hungarian Revolution.
The rebel forces choking the empire had been mercilessly crushed by Tsar Nicholas I of Russia. Now, Franz Joseph faced the moment to repay that debt with betrayal.
As if reading his thoughts, Radetzky spoke cautiously.
“Your Majesty, some voices say we must not forget the Tsar’s grace. Whatever judgment Your Majesty makes, we stand ready to obey.”
Franz Joseph gazed at the Danube estuary on the map.
“Field Marshal, this river is the empire’s economic lifeline. If Russia seizes the estuary and reaches the Black Sea, they can throttle our neck at will. There are no eternal friends or eternal enemies.”
He shifted his gaze to the many cities within the empire’s borders.
Prague, Zagreb, Lemberg, and countless others—he thought of the Slavs living there.
“Moreover, Russia wields the phantom of Pan-Slavism. If their influence grows in the Balkans, they’ll incite our subjects. Internal rifts are more fearsome than external foes.”
Russia was untouchable at full strength, but now weakened by Britain and France, this was the golden chance to gain maximum profit at minimal risk.