The Genius Archduke of the Gunpowder Empire - Part 2
(A True Royal)
Humankind has been with alcohol since ancient times. From those who savor it for taste to those who use it to brighten the mood for social relations, there is no shortage of positive aspects to it.
But if one is drunk and not in their right mind, one becomes an existence that everyone comprising society shuns.
You avoid shit because it is filthy—such is the way of things. How could anyone get close to an existence that causes disturbances, becomes a nuisance to convenience stores, police stations, and hospitals, and even leads to assault?
The cure for such people is the cane, but the modern world is a beautiful one where we must protect the human rights of drunkards who trample upon the human rights of others.
However, in the distant past, it might have been perfectly acceptable to put a bullet or two into a noisy drunkard.
Such were the times.
Of course, that does not mean it was encouraged. In the past, there existed something stronger than human rights.
Late 19th century, the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
"Kwahahaha! Behold! I am Archduke Otto of Austria!"
Some would surely shout upon seeing him, "The old-timer has appeared!"
Would it not be natural when seeing a naked man on a horse? Moreover, he even put on a performance of downing a bottle in one hand, so calling him an expert would hardly be an exaggeration.
It was astonishing equestrianism. Though he swayed while drunk, he never fell from the horse.
But more important than that was the title of the drunk madman: Archduke. In the Austro-Hungarian Empire, archduke was a title bestowed upon members of the imperial house.
There was no way to stop this madman.
Who would dare lay a hand on the body of an imperial? Rather than dirty, he was an existence one had to avoid out of pure terror.
The only things that could stop such a person were the bullets of a nationalist or a Red armed with extreme convictions and ideology.
Normally, this would be a familiar sight. Was this a day or two?
His antics were known not only to the people of the Empire but were even often witnessed by foreigners.
Perhaps he was the most famous stripper of this era?
But today was different.
"Your Highness! Please, I beg you, stop!"
Those attending Archduke Otto uncharacteristically cried out in alarm and tried to stop him.
Because the person who had mounted the horse with the Archduke made them desperate.
A young boy swaying even more than the drunken Archduke!
He was Archduke Otto's eldest son.
The moment the child fell from the horse, it would no longer be a simple accident.
Just imagining the scene of falling from a horse was enough to stop one's heart; what if he were trampled?
He was a child, not an adult. Naturally, the imperial family would not sit idly by.
At the very least, not a single person present would escape unscathed.
Because it was the Archduke's mistake, their heads might remain attached, but promotions would be blocked and a string of disadvantages would follow.
People would avoid them as if they were walking disease carriers.
They steeled their resolve.
They would have to throw themselves in for the sake of their futures.
Even if kicked by the horse's hind legs and bones were broken.
As the brave ones were the first to approach the horse.
"Uhh?!"
Something they absolutely did not want to happen, happened.
"Noooooooo!"
They saw the Archduke's young child falling headfirst.
The Archduchess, who had rushed over upon hearing the commotion, arrived just in time to see her son land on his head and collapsed with a thud without a sound.
"Kyaaaaaaagh!"
"Y-Your Highnessss!"
It was a most peaceful place.
***
Death is something that anyone must respect. But if that death is too pathetic, rather than being respected, it can become an object of ridicule.
And dying while playing a game is not something people mock—it is a pathetic death they do not even pay attention to.
That was the kind of death I had suffered.
Does this even make sense? It's not like I played games that much, and suddenly I'm dead?
I wondered if I was really dead, but I could not deny reality upon seeing the scene before my eyes.
"I told you to stop drinking! Why did you drag your child into it this time...!"
"Did I not apologize?"
"You call that an apology...!"
In a room as spacious and splendid as the interior of a castle, a man and a woman were quarreling.
A woman pressing him with her fist clenched tight, and a man shrugging with an indifferent expression, as if he could not fathom what he had done wrong.
The two people before me were biologically my father and mother.
I watched the argument with bandages wrapped around my head.
A couple's quarrel was one thing, but my body was a bigger problem than them.
A small, white hand entered my sight. The body of a child, not an adult.
And in my head coexisted not only the memories of having lived as a 21st-century Korean but also the memories of the young child.
The name of mine, who had come to live a second life, was Karl Franz Joseph Ludwig Hubert Georg... Damn, it's long.
To sum it up, my name is Karl von Habsburg-Lorraine.
A person of that famous House of Habsburg, and Karl I, who would become the last Emperor of Austria-Hungary in roughly twenty years.
Oh, amazing. Simply amazing. To think I died playing a game and woke up as a person of the past.
Well, dying can't be helped. What's done is done, so what can you do? Besides, I was born as royalty. Not Real Madrid, but real royalty.
If I had been born into a poor household with nothing to eat tomorrow, I would have cried and shouted for a status window and denied reality, but since I'm royalty, I should accept it.
If I can live in luxury, I can lead a sufficiently happy life even without the conveniences of modern civilization.
Can't I just make subordinates do the inconvenient things?
But my joy ended there. Karl I? The one who would become emperor? That wasn't important.
I know the future.
This body's fate is to ascend to emperor during World War I, only for the empire to be dismantled in defeat, to be expelled without property, to live in exile, and to die a lonely death at a young age without money for treatment.
Living short and intense is fine, but it should be moderately short. Isn't two years too short?
"Enough. I have no desire to hear your words any longer."
"Please come to your senses!"
"You are noisy."
Regardless of whether my parents fought or not, I quietly moved toward the window.
My heart eased at the scenery visible from the window.
Where I lived was naturally a magnificent castle. Not an ugly castle built for defensive purposes, but a truly spectacularly splendid one.
Looking down from the room, a lake was visible, and behind it stretched a lush green forest. This is why houses with good views are so popular.
The conditions for a propitious site are the same even on the opposite side of the earth. That I might not enjoy this for a lifetime made me more depressed.
If I had been born as an ordinary royal rather than someone who would become emperor, wouldn't there have been some way out?
When everything collapses in World War I, what meaning is there in being emperor?
You ask if becoming emperor can't change everything?
How do you win a world war against Britain, France, the Russian Empire, Italy, the United States, and others? The time given is barely twenty-some years.
If it can't be avoided, shouldn't I stop the world war or increase the number of allies?
Is that even possible? I am the son of the 'second son' of Archduke Karl Ludwig, the younger brother of the current Emperor Franz Joseph I.
In short, right now I am damn far from the line of succession.
Only by luck did all the successors before me drop dead one by one, making me emperor.
My uncle (eldest uncle) Archduke Franz Ferdinand (known as the Crown Prince, though officially an Archduke), the famous protagonist of the Sarajevo incident and the very cause of World War I breaking out, is the problem.
Because the right of succession comes to me when Franz Ferdinand dies, it is inevitably very difficult to intervene in the empire's politics before that.
Would the current emperor or Franz Ferdinand sit by while the second-in-line intervenes when the first successor is perfectly fine?
Even if those two overlooked it, those around them wouldn't leave me alone. There might not be extreme measures like assassination, but plenty of checks and obstruction would come my way.
A young second successor inevitably lacks power.
Even in original history, this body did nothing until Franz Ferdinand died.
Then what about America...?
The land of opportunity and a safe land without war.
It was not completely problem-free with the conflict with Mexico and participation in World War I, but compared to other countries, it was heaven.
Besides, unless the US government was crazy, they wouldn't push me into the army, would they?
But the moment I thought of going to America, my head throbbed.
If I resolved to go to America, it felt like my head would explode as if I were wearing a bomb necklace.
Was this the last vestige of Karl's ego, having been born into the imperial family despite being so young?
Telling me not to cross the final line... it can't be helped.
Honestly, going to America wasn't realistic either. How would I, at a young age, get to America?
A brief trip might be possible, but anything more would never be permitted by anyone in the imperial family, and later, the moment Franz Ferdinand entered into a morganatic marriage, my value as the next successor would rise; naturally, they would never leave me in a foreign country.
They would call me back by any means necessary.
"Shit."
A curse slipped out.
Wasn't this like saying there is only one path, so run even if you must brace for death?
I must do it even if I don't like it. It was an unavoidable fate.
Frankly, isn't this an empire that needs me and only me? If it is dismantled by World War I, what the remaining nations experience is no ordinary suffering.
In World War II, Austria is annexed by the Nazis, Hungary joins the Axis, Czechoslovakia is abandoned and annexed by the Nazis, and some regions even descend into civil war with terrible ethnic cleansing.
If they are fated to suffer anyway, what is wrong with me trying to do something?
It truly is an empire that only I can save.
Thinking positively, my head finally cleared.
I just needed to hide some assets overseas for the worst case. I have plenty of time to save money.
If I really do everything and fail, what can be done? After the empire's dismantlement, some country in need of the great bloodline of the Habsburgs might appear while I am in exile.
Bringing a king from Europe isn't exactly a rare occurrence.
I could go to a country that wants me and live basking in honor and luxury.
Then I could invest with future knowledge and live comfortably enough.
And wasn't that what I had wanted?
To become not a powerless individual, but an emperor ruling an empire, dominating and leading a powerful army and a united nation.
Yes. I must lead them. It is something only I can do.
Burning with passion, I clenched my small fist tight.
"Karl, are you alright?"
While I laughed heh-heh gazing at the lake, Mother approached at some point and asked with a worried expression.
Father is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he went off somewhere to drink with prostitutes.
"I am truly sorry. I didn't want to show you such a sight..."
Mother spoke with a pained expression, perhaps feeling guilty.
As if. I was born into the imperial family; something like domestic discord was hardly worth fussing over.
If I had been born ordinarily in this era, I would have been thrown into a horrific environment of countless turmoil and world wars.
I was born with a vibranium spoon in my mouth; how could I have any complaints?
Royalty is the best.