Franz Joseph I.
He was the direct grandson of Franz II, the last Holy Roman Emperor, and the current Emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire; his very existence was the symbol of this ancient empire.
Having been on the throne for over fifty years, and destined to sit upon it for over a decade more, he rose punctually every morning and worked for more than ten hours with a near-obsessive sense of order.
In a word, he was so strict it was hair-raising.
If you committed a mistake and had to stand before him, there would certainly be no good outcome.
This wasn’t the first time Karl had seen the Emperor today.
Earlier, when the family gathered at the Augarten Palace, he had the opportunity to see him from a distance.
But that wasn’t a face-to-face audience like this.
After all, the protagonists then were the elders; children were merely set aside.
The Emperor had heard some rumors about this precocious great-grandson, but he had only said a faint “well done” without further expression.
But today was different.
They were alone in the study, and the atmosphere was heavy.
Was the Emperor finally willing to look him in the eye and scrutinize him?
Karl dreamed almost every day of pulling this man off the throne.
Diligent as he was, this Emperor had made no small number of blunders during his reign, and certain stagnant policies continued even now.
In this era of surging change, even an empire like Austria-Hungary could never survive if it only thought of maintaining the status quo at all costs.
Anarchists lurked everywhere all day long, eager to assassinate any passing member of the imperial family they could catch.
Nationalists within the borders were shouting to break free from Vienna’s rule as soon as possible and establish independent states belonging only to themselves.
In such a chaotic world of internal strife and external threats, if nothing was done, the collapse of the empire was the only natural conclusion.
“Your eyes look very disloyal.”
Damn, I’ve been seen through.
“These are the eyes of pure admiration for the Emperor of a great empire.”
“To me, they look more like those who want to assassinate me.”
Facing his great-grandson who was only ten-odd years old, this Old Emperor really dared to say anything.
Don’t worry, at least I never intended to use force to pull you down.
That would be too stupid.
From the beginning, Karl knew very well how foolish it would be to raise the banner of rebellion against Franz Joseph, who had been the symbol of the empire for decades.
No one would respond, and he would only turn himself into a joke and a criminal.
“You left the country without my permission, didn’t you?”
The Old Emperor, dressed meticulously with his hair neatly combed, stared at Karl with sharp gray-blue eyes.
Although it was across the Atlantic, the stir Karl caused on the American continent was indeed not small; it was not surprising that news would travel back to Vienna through various channels.
To be honest, Karl originally intended to settle things quickly with Edison and return quietly; he had also harbored a lucky thought that the busy Emperor might not notice a child’s brief trip. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
After all, the position of Emperor, especially the Emperor of Austria-Hungary, was by no means an idle job, and the old man before him was particularly obsessed with it, almost welding himself to his desk.
He buried himself in the study handling mountains of government affairs, having no time to restrain his unconventional son, nor to care for family members who had experienced tragedies.
No matter how many misfortunes the family suffered in succession, he always remained at his desk.
This man seemed to have dedicated his entire life to the word ‘duty.’
A person so busy could not, in theory, keep track of the movements of every single member of the imperial family in detail.
But currently, it was a sensitive period for the imperial succession.
A young but prominent royal with a high rank in the line of succession leaving the country without permission would naturally cause displeasure.
Because at this very moment, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was in fierce opposition with the Emperor over the issue of his insistence on a ‘morganatic marriage.’
For the Habsburg Dynasty, which valued purity of bloodline, marriage had always been a part of state affairs; even love had to make way for royal power.
It was only natural for the elderly to be conservative.
To marry a woman who was not of royal blood was almost intolerable in the Emperor’s eyes.
But Franz Ferdinand was equally stubborn, and with several higher-ranking heirs having passed away previously, it was impossible for the Emperor to be too forceful in deposing him.
In the end, this marriage would likely be permitted under Ferdinand’s persistence, but the children born of this morganatic marriage would be stripped of their succession rights.
Thus, the value of Karl’s branch could only rise accordingly.
The next in line was Karl’s father, Archduke Otto Franz; he might receive some favor, but he was not a universally recognized candidate suitable for the throne.
Coupled with his personality and age factors, the eyes of scrutiny and expectation from both inside and outside the court naturally fell upon the young and precocious Karl.
In such a delicate situation, for Karl to run off to the other side of the ocean without permission—it was not at all strange for the Emperor to feel displeased or even angry.
Karl’s gaze fell upon the Emperor’s crisp Austrian Army Field Marshal uniform, which was covered in medals.
“Your Majesty’s gala dress, the uniform of the Empire, is truly beautiful.”
“Do you think you can muddle through by changing the subject?” The Emperor didn’t buy it.
“I am serious.”
“On that point, I agree as well.”
Austria, or rather the Habsburg court, pursued style, flair, and a sense of ritual almost to the point of obsession.
Various military and court uniforms were indeed designed to be magnificent and majestic, commanding admiration.
And this Old Emperor always viewed himself first and foremost as a soldier.
In that era, it was a tradition and even an obligation for royals and nobles to serve as military officers.
However, unlike the Emperor’s mindset of strictly adhering to military etiquette, the actual strength of the Imperial Army was not top-tier in Europe, and he himself had failed to achieve any dazzling military accomplishments worth writing home about.
He had lost the wealthy Lombardy and Veneto in wars; those were the bitter fruits Austria had to swallow under the wave of Italian unification.
But at least, the Imperial Army had not been crushed in a single blow by a’six-week campaign’ blitzkrieg like certain continental armies, losing all face;
Nor did it suffer successive disastrous defeats overseas like the armies of certain countries, becoming known to all the world.
To be honest, compared to those guys, Austria-Hungary was still decent.
At least it wasn’t beaten into a state of total helplessness and utter defeat.
“I ask again.
“Because there was something that absolutely had to be handled.”
“What thing?”
“Someone in America misappropriated a film made by a company under my name and profited from it.”
The Emperor frowned.
In this era where films were still a novelty, how could this be considered any great matter?
From the standpoint of an Emperor nearing seventy, it was naturally difficult to understand why a child would make such a big fuss over this.
Just as many conservative elders of later generations could not understand young people’s obsession with video games, to them, films—these ‘moving pictures’—were probably a similar kind of insignificant pastime.
“Just for such a small matter?”
“It is not a small matter, Your Majesty.”
“Then what is it?”
“The film itself aside for a moment.
The problem is that they took something belonging to me, a member of the Habsburg Family, without permission.”
The Emperor’s furrowed brow relaxed slightly.
Though the words were similar, the emphasis was different, and the persuasiveness was thus entirely different.
To a conservative imperial emperor, how much use would it be to vaguely emphasize the future cultural influence or economic benefits of film?
It was better to directly elevate the issue to the level of maintaining imperial dignity; that was easier to move him.
“If that is the case, why did you not ask me for help beforehand?”
“Your Majesty, I believed that doing so might unnecessarily escalate a commercial dispute into a diplomatic conflict between nations, making a mountain out of a molehill.
I judged that I was capable of resolving it in a more low-profile manner, keeping the impact to a minimum.”
The expression on the Emperor’s face appeared quite satisfied.
Perhaps an heir who might one day take up the scepter being capable, decisive, and knowing his place was certainly not a bad thing.
However, Karl remained cautious in his heart.
The old man before him had frequently clashed and had tense relations with his own son, Crown Prince Rudolf, and the current heir, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, over issues of power and policy.
For now, his interaction with this great-grandson, fifty-seven years his junior, seemed peaceful enough.
He just didn’t know if the Emperor felt he was still small and not a threat, or if he truly appreciated him.
“I will accept your reason for now.
However, going to America without permission and using embassy resources for personal matters without authorization—these two points, I cannot treat as if they never happened.”
What a rigid old man, right down to his bones.
He was just a child; what could be squeezed out of him?
Was it necessary to be so meticulous and calculative?