“Ta-da! What do you think? It looks fun, doesn’t it?”
I had left the door to my room slightly open while I spent time with Bertie.
Since it was late at night, going anywhere felt a little improper, and with Hunyadi and Bertie’s attendants present as well, there was no need to worry about scandalous rumors.
“… Yes, it’s fun.”
It wasn’t any fun doing it alone.
“I’m going to submit this to the exposition. I made it as part of our Rudolf education program.”
“A two-year-old is supposed to do this?”
Bertie asked, pointing at the board game.
He ought to say something that made sense…
“He can’t do it yet, but later on we’ll use it for educating him in kingship.”
The board game Bertie and I were playing together was—
“Its name is Europa Universal. What do you think?”
“So, it’s a board game where you become the king of a country and keep developing it?”
Well… if you summarize it roughly, yes.
“The name, Europa Uni…”
“If it’s too hard, you can just call it EuroUni.”
It’s closer to Victoria, but… why would I give it her name?
“There’s quite a lot to keep track of.”
Economy, infrastructure, resource management, class relations, technological development—there was a lot to pay attention to.
“We are imperial royalty, after all.”
Such calculations can be handled by maids or attendants.
I helped him make the first move.
Bertie folded his arms and stared intently at the board.
He looked over the map, then without hesitation picked up his piece and placed it over Paris, the capital of France.
“I’ll send a diplomat to Paris. I want to try establishing friendly relations with Napoleon III.”
Was the Entente Cordiale Bertie’s work?
“The British Parliament is currently wary of France’s naval expansion, you know. If Lord Palmerston finds out, he’ll fly into a rage.”
“The old gentlemen in Parliament are too timid. France can be a friend, not an enemy. Above all, Parisian fashion and art are far more refined than London’s, aren’t they? There’s nothing bad about getting along.”
I doubt that was the only reason.
While we were absorbed in the board game for quite some time, another guest entered.
“Albert Edward Wettin.”
Bertie started in surprise and sprang up from his seat.
“Prince Consort, please don’t scold him too much. I was the one who asked first.”
“… Very well, Your Majesty. But at this late hour…”
Did he think we might have been doing something strange?
I lightly tapped the board game.
“Would you like to join us as well, Your Grace? The more people, the better.”
“You mean the game?”
Prince Albert’s brow narrowed.
“Let’s say it’s an entry for this Expo.”
I had kept looking around, but there weren’t really any technologies other countries would be interested in.
There were plenty of cultural items and works of art like furniture, though.
“How did you determine the characteristics of each country written here?”
Bertie looked at his father in surprise. Instead of getting angry, Prince Albert was asking a question.
“It’s a demo version, so I chose them at random.”
“Earlier you said it was educational—”
Prince Albert cut Bertie off.
“Enough. Pardon our rudeness.”
Bertie pursed his lips and shrank back.
Poor thing…
Prince Albert had immediately caught on at the word “education.”
Yes, when it’s used for education, the ministers can fill in the details themselves.
“It’s all right, Your Grace. So what do you think? Of our culture in Vienna?”
“… It seems I did well to invite you.”
That was good enough.
“It would also be good to use Kriegsspiel for the detailed battles, then reflect the results here.”
Kriegsspiel. In English, a war game.
How strange.
Prussia, which professes liberalism, has its soldiers putting their heads together to make war games, while our Austria, supposedly notorious for being oppressive, is making a game about running a state.
“As expected, Your Grace has deep insight.”
In the end, we enjoyed the board game together until late into the night.
*
The next morning, I opened my eyes half-asleep.
“… My board game.”
Prince Albert had taken EuroUni with him, saying he wanted to look into it more.
What was I supposed to do to endure the tedious life in London?
How can such a rigid country call itself the land of freedom?
I rang the bell, summoned the maids, and began dressing.
“Bring me the most comfortable dress.”
Today, I would wander around London and go see an automobile factory.
Since there was no Red Flag Act yet, there was still a chance we could buy up a British automobile company.
“Your Majesty, the Prince of Wales has requested an audience.”
What could it be so early in the morning?
“Let him in.”
He greeted me, neatly dressed in military uniform.
“… My father instructed me to escort Your Majesty and introduce London to you.”
No wonder he came in looking tired.
The reason he was in a stiff, formal military uniform, unlike when I met him yesterday, must be because he had been scolded until dawn.
I took his hand and said,
“I think Prince Albert would get along well with His Majesty if they became friends.”
Maybe Albert’s dislike of Joseph was actually self-loathing, or something like that.
Like the others, Bertie briefed me on the day’s schedule and folded his arms.
“The carriage is ready, Your Majesty. The itinerary my father recommended is to view the British Museum in the morning and stroll through the Crystal Palace gardens in the afternoon. In the evening, there is a concert at the Royal Academy…”
A route that made me yawn just hearing about it.
I did want to visit the Crystal Palace once, so we could proceed with that, but the morning and evening needed to be changed.
“I’d like to see an automobile factory in the morning. Do I really need to come all the way to Britain just to look at a museum I could see in Paris or Vienna?”
When I said it teasingly, Bertie’s eyes sparkled.
“Of course, madam. It would be good for you to see the technology our British Empire takes pride in.”
“Prince Albert also requested my visit in advance in order to invite me to the Expo, so it wouldn’t be bad to have a preview.”
Bertie must have been much more curious about steam automobiles than a boring museum.
“… Certainly, my father does like showing off Britain’s outstanding industrial sites.”
Bertie cleared his throat and put on an expression as though pretending to be an adult.
“I shall report that I simply could not refuse Her Majesty the Empress’s strong request.”
“Bertie. Shall we depart, then?”
I’ll collect the price for using me as an excuse when the Red Flag Act comes around!
*
After arriving in East London, we looked around together.
Seeing it like this, the difference between my maids and Bertie’s attendants was stark.
My maids walked about with handkerchiefs covering their mouths, while Bertie’s attendants followed as though nothing were wrong.
“I’d only heard of London smog…”
“Haha… It’s a little severe, isn’t it?”
A little? Even the yellow dust that came every spring was probably less than this.
Covering my nose and mouth, I searched with my eyes wide open for the companies I remembered, but…
There were none.
When my disappointment showed, Bertie offered words of comfort.
“Automobile factories are usually in Birmingham, so they’ll be hard to find in London.”
I see…
There’s no helping it. Even engineers who aren’t doing well here would be treated well in Austria, so I’ll just have to bring back whoever I can.
I handed my handkerchief to Hunyadi, switched to another, and continued looking around the city.
“Even though it’s the same London, the atmosphere in the east and west is certainly different.”
At my words, Bertie rubbed his nose awkwardly.
“That’s because the factory districts and slums are concentrated here. Even the air is different from Mayfair or Belgravia in the west.”
Children sitting by the roadside stared blankly up at our splendid carriage with soot-stained faces.
“Bertie. Don’t those children go to school?”
“School? I’m not sure. They probably work in factories or help their parents. Most lower-class children in London are like that.”
Bertie’s tone suggested I was asking something obvious.
We’re a little better than London. Our children at least get to watch street circuses. Besides, institutionally speaking, compulsory education is only natural.
By the time we industrialize, British intellectuals will start criticizing child labor, so I’ll have to subtly coax Joseph about it.
In the end, we left East London without any gains, and while we were strolling through the Crystal Palace, Bertie asked,
“Sisi, I heard Frankenstein was adapted into a play?”
I watched it once, found it boring, and stopped.
“I’m still sponsoring it steadily.”
“What would a Frankenstein play be like in its homeland? If you don’t want to, we can see the scheduled play.”
Frankenstein in Britain. That sounded fun.
Even the musical Elisabeth, which dealt with my life, was completely different from country to country.
In Vienna, they portrayed me as a selfish woman who ruined the empire; in Hungary, they worshiped me as a saint who saved the country; and in Korea… they turned me into a tragic heroine flirting with Death.
If I do too well, will they not make a musical about my life?
“A play in its homeland sounds fun too. Let’s do that.”
As we spent the remaining time walking around the Crystal Palace and enjoying the sights, a commotion arose.
“It seems noisy outside. Would it be all right if I stepped out for a moment?”
When I looked toward the disturbance, a man was being bound by the guards.
“Go ahead.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
Bertie hurried toward the source of the commotion.
When the bound man saw him, he resisted even more violently.
“Hunyadi.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“… Now that I look closely, I feel like I’ve seen that face somewhere.”
“Whom do you mean?”
That, I wasn’t sure… Where had I seen him?
He was definitely familiar.
His hair was disheveled and he was wearing an old coat, but I felt I had seen his face somewhere.
As if she had realized something, Hunyadi cried out,
“It’s Andrássy Gyula! Your Majesty!”
Andrássy Gyula.
That’s right! I was wondering where I had seen him—it was on a wanted poster!
The man who was sentenced to death in absentia and had a straw effigy hanged in his place!
But…
“Why is he here?”
“I do not know.”
I had heard he was going back and forth between Paris and London, living as a libertine of high society… but judging from his state, he wasn’t a libertine, just a vagrant.
Edward looked back and forth between Gyula and me, seemingly flustered by Gyula’s shouts.
He must have realized he was an exile.
I gave an order to the maids.
“Go and bring him before me.”
“… Your Majesty, but…”
“There are no ladies-in-waiting from Vienna here, are there?”
Ah, there is one.
“I will bring him, Your Majesty. The other ladies-in-waiting from Hungary may instead be accused of helping a condemned prisoner.”
“… Countess Königsegg.”
Was she trying to make up for her mistakes so far with this opportunity?
“You go, then.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”