Archduke Ferdinand (2)
Whatever other problems Archduke Franz Ferdinand might have, the most critical one was undoubtedly his marriage. Every other issue was merely secondary.
Well, of course... being the crown prince but being completely isolated and unable to do anything was a problem in its own right. Is that why he avoided the press and people alike, spending his time hunting in the quiet forests of Bohemia?
Perhaps he was comforting himself with some mental gymnastics: 'It's not the world ostracizing me; it's me ostracizing the world. After all, I am a kingly figure (which is true).'
Whether it was a sense of alienation or helplessness... every single problem, known or unknown, would vanish the moment his marriage to Sophie Chotek was officially recognized!
And that wasn't all.
I might need to employ the theories of that eccentric professor, Sigmund Freud, here.
Our dear Professor Freud linked every human conflict to sexual desires. This wasn't just because Professor Freud was an exceptionally dirty-minded man (though he was), but because it contained a profound insight: there is no issue in human history as critical as love.
The psychological pressure of unrequited or forbidden love is practically a matter of survival. For some highly sensitive individuals, it can even trigger severe PTSD.
Once someone falls deeply in love, they lose their minds to the point of throwing away their own power.
In fact, this was practically a tradition in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The former Crown Prince, Archduke Rudolf, had half-lost his mind over a tragic love affair, and his hatred for the imperial court had even driven him to flirt with republicanism.
Is the title of Crown Prince of this empire cursed or something?
In any case.
What was the only way to cure this depressed Archduke Franz Ferdinand?
Naturally, love was the answer.
What I needed was a minimum level of political authority. At the very least, I shouldn't have to worry about getting thrown into a prison cell just because some brainless fools took a dislike to me.
Even if he was currently treated as a mere puppet due to his reckless, rule-breaking marriage...
As long as he held the title of Archduke and heir to the throne, no one would dare touch him lightly.
In fact, the fact that he was a puppet wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It meant we could form a mutual alliance rather than a one-sided relationship of patron and ward.
So, what could I offer Archduke Franz Ferdinand?
"Perhaps I might be able to solve Your Imperial Highness's problem."
"What?!"
Naturally, my bundle of future knowledge.
Though he was currently wallowing in self-pity, in just a few years, Archduke Franz Ferdinand would figure out the answer to his love life on his own.
'Since the imperial court refuses to recognize my love for Sophie, I will win the recognition of the people instead.'
To achieve this, Franz Ferdinand would begin showing his face at all sorts of public events, always accompanied by Sophie. In fact, his eventual assassination would happen while he was touring public events with her.
'I need to secure a respectable title for Sophie and keep her constantly exposed to the media, even if the rumors turn sour.'
To a 21st-century Korean, the sight of a politician with coal soot smeared all over their face doing a one-day experience as a coal miner is a thoroughly familiar scene. In fact, it's so familiar that it's downright cliché. A politician who jumps into an election without eating street food at a traditional market is practically disqualified.
But what about the year 1900?
Naturally, it's an unimaginable, insane concept.
How could a royal of pure blue blood dare to converse warmly with the common rabble?
For a late 19th-century feudal, autocratic royal family whose political power was entirely derived from their "noble birth," such an act would shake the very foundations of their rule. It was an absolute taboo.
Even if I were reborn as a genius Archduke of the empire, it was an action I would strictly avoid.
However, our Archduke Franz Ferdinand was a bit different.
"No matter what you do, Your Imperial Highness's marriage will never be recognized by His Majesty the Emperor. Therefore, you must seek recognition from others."
"I have thought of taking Sophie with me to public events. But no one invites us to their parties or balls."
"Then we shall create our own events."
I laid out the concepts of 21st-century election campaigning to the Archduke.
Franz Ferdinand was utterly flabbergasted by these unimaginable ideas.
"Is... is that truly acceptable?"
"Your Imperial Highness has already entered into a morganatic marriage in defiance of the imperial court. Though you may not realize it, you and the Duchess are already beloved by the common people of the empire."
"But if the public reaction is poor..."
"Even if the reaction is poor, we must move forward. In fact, a negative reaction is even better. It will only increase the exposure of the Duchess standing by your side."
Though the yellow press, bought and paid for by the feudal aristocrats, would spew all kinds of filthy articles, the public was not stupid. Even when reading articles claiming the Crown Prince had degraded himself, the masses could read between the lines.
Though she wasn't a commoner, the marriage between a lady-in-waiting of lower-middle nobility and the most noble Crown Prince of the empire, set against the backdrop of immense imperial opposition and the jealousy of the high aristocracy...
It was practically a real-life romance fantasy.
Thanks to this, Franz Ferdinand's popularity exploded among the masses without him having to lift a finger!
Consequently, Franz Ferdinand could choose a path different from other Kaisers. Much like Napoleon III of France, he could steer the political landscape based on immense popular support.
And as a bonus, he could crack the skulls of the aristocrats and anti-Semites.
"Still, this doesn't feel right. I am a statesman. The succession could pass to my younger brother."
"Let it."
"What?"
"Just as Christ did, Your Imperial Highness will become the tragic Crown Prince who descended from the heavens to the earth. Even if the 'Crown Prince' disappears, Franz Ferdinand, the man beloved by all the people, will remain."
"...That would shake the very foundations of the empire."
I grinned.
The empire is going to collapse in twenty years anyway, so you're worrying about nothing.
Even if I were to unpack my future knowledge and somehow help them win World War I, the collapse of the empire was already a foregone conclusion.
Why?
"Next year marks the beginning of the 20th century. And as Your Imperial Highness well knows, the 20th century will be an era where politics cannot be conducted solely on the basis of bloodline."
"..."
"I understand what Your Imperial Highness fears. However, I will make you a promise."
"What kind of...?"
"The imperial family may fall, but the empire will endure."
Historically, Archduke Franz Ferdinand had even advocated for turning the Austro-Hungarian Empire into a United States of Greater Austria, a federal system similar to America.
It was the only way to save a powder-keg empire on the verge of exploding from ethnic tensions: relinquishing German hegemony and drastically expanding the autonomy of the various nationalities.
Great powers, even if they are federations in name only, usually have the word "Union" or "United" attached to them. A federation of that scale could easily be called an "empire" in a different sense.
I didn't know how far the current Franz Ferdinand's thoughts had progressed. But at the very least, the Franz Ferdinand of fifteen years in the future was a man who prioritized the empire over the imperial family.
Franz Ferdinand gasped, unable to find his words.
"Alright, we have arrived. Please step down!"
In the slums of Vienna, choked with factory smog, five carriages suddenly ground to a halt.
Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie Chotek, were likely the very first royals to set foot in these slums.
When it comes to image rehabilitation, volunteer work is the absolute best. Especially when it's an unconventional form of volunteering—that's how popularity skyrockets.
To be perfectly honest, calling it "volunteer work" was a stretch; they were just there to take photos.
But there was a reason politicians worked so hard to do volunteer service. Even if ninety-five thousand out of a hundred thousand people saw right through the performance, if the remaining five thousand thought, 'Well, at least they bothered to show up,' it was a profitable venture.
In the year 1900, when this style of campaigning was virtually unheard of, the effect would be multiplied tenfold.
Because Archduke Franz Ferdinand had suffered so much persecution from the imperial court, he preferred to do everything in secret. To put it nicely, he liked to operate in secret; to put it bluntly, he was the type to cause an incident first and report it later.
Besides, there was no way the imperial court would ever permit a charity visit to the slums.
Perhaps the discord between the Emperor and the Crown Prince wasn't solely due to his marriage to Sophie.
Our Archduke Franz Ferdinand was a romantic, hot-tempered, "no-retreat" man who had pulled off his own marriage on a "do it first, ask forgiveness later" basis.
Of course, no matter how secretly they moved, they were accompanied by at least dozens of attendants.
"Wait a moment. Didn't we come here to help the poor? I understand the guards, but what is the photographer for...?"
"How else can we advertise that you did a good deed if we don't capture it in photos, Your Imperial Highness?"
"Then what about all these people following us?"
"A crowd needs to be thick and bustling for the picture to look good."
No matter what, Franz Ferdinand was the Crown Prince. When entering a slum like this, guards were essential because no one knew what might happen.
Furthermore, when politicians went volunteering, they always dragged along aides, local council members, heads of local governments, and all sorts of people.
While those people would babble on about local issues, their true purpose lay elsewhere.
Naturally, it was a display of force.
Having a crowd of well-dressed people flanking you lent an air of authority, and a bustling crowd made for a better picture.
Of course, the Crown Prince's current political faction was practically non-existent.
Naturally, there was no way Franz Ferdinand had any supporters among the imperial court or the high nobility, so we could skip them. He had no backing among the bourgeoisie or other classes either. Those who held meaningful political power in those circles were either puppets of the Kaiser or lackeys of the aristocracy who betrayed their own class.
So, who were all these people?
Who else? They were the "reds" who frequented my father's house.
"Alright, who wants to go see the Crown Prince? Raise your hands!"
"Me! Me!"
"They're taking photos too? My face will be in a photo with the Crown Prince?!"
"If we play our cards right, could we catch the eye of Archduke Franz Ferdinand?"
"Then we can finally make something of ourselves!"
Devout "reds" generally fell into three categories.
First, those who believed in communism as a religion.
Second, those filled with hipster contrarianism and intellectual vanity. It was embarrassing to admit, but my father, Schmidt Stahl, fell squarely into this category...
Third, those who possessed talent and a lust for power but were barred from mainstream politics for some reason, leading them to walk the path of radical revolutionaries. In truth, if given the chance, they wanted nothing more than to integrate into the existing power structure.
In other words, excluding a few whose revolutionary faith was as absolute as Leon Trotsky's or Rosa Luxemburg's, a hodgepodge of nationalists, anarchists, communists, and avant-garde artists who had ties to my father had all swarmed here at the news of the Crown Prince's arrival!
"M-Marx! What is the meaning of this?!"
"Well... I was just trying to gather a crowd."
"Even so! You should have vetted them before bringing them here!"
While Karl Landsteiner and the other doctors and researchers watched the crowd with mild curiosity, Professor Sigmund Freud—who knew my father and occasionally attended his socialist salons—was utterly horrified.
"That man over there looks like he's going to be arrested for terrorism any day now! Why is he here?! He's an exile who fled France after trying to start a revolution!"
"It just sort of happened..."
My father's publishing house printed all sorts of things without discrimination. Thanks to that, his network was incredibly vast. Consequently, the moment a call went out, all kinds of riffraff gathered.
Oh, whatever.
To be honest, many of the "radical" ideas of this era were completely common sense to a 21st-century modern person like me. It wouldn't hurt for them to get some exposure. We could weed out the bad apples later.
Of course, there was no way my father, Schmidt Stahl, would miss out on this.
"A-Archduke... Your... Imperial... Highness... Thank you... for... saving... my... worthless... son..."
Upon seeing Franz Ferdinand, my father began speaking like a malfunctioning robot.
His communist friends glared at him with utter disdain, while Franz Ferdinand stared back with an amused expression, as if watching a clown at a circus.
"Thank... you... for... looking... upon... my... son... kindly... beep-boop..."
Why are you acting like this...?
It was a classic case of being strong against the weak and weak against the strong.
Ugh, how embarrassing.