Holy Roman Empire

In the hunting grounds of the Vienna Palace, Franz’s marksmanship remained as “consistent” as ever.

Perhaps it was because of his deep love for life and an unwillingness to take it that every time he fired a shot, the unfortunate victims were always the surrounding plants and flowers.

“Franz, how many times do I have to tell you? That’s not how you use a gun. Can’t you at least aim properly?”

A familiar voice broke the peaceful atmosphere. Undoubtedly, it was Archduke Karl. Aside from him, no one else would dare speak so freely.

Franz retorted confidently, “Hunting is just a game. Why take it so seriously? The wildlife population has already decreased significantly. If we keep this up, it won’t be long before they go extinct.”

Franz maintained his composure. Years of political experience had trained him to keep a straight face under any circumstances.

Within moments, he had come up with a reasonable excuse. The palace hunting grounds weren’t large, and naturally, there weren’t many wild animals left.

With Archduke Karl’s passion for hunting, most of the smarter animals had long since fled. The ones left were the less clever ones, and the hunting yields had dwindled as a result.

Of course, fleeing wasn’t necessarily a better option. In those days, with no wildlife protection laws, animals that ventured beyond the grounds often faced an even quicker demise.

Archduke Karl nodded thoughtfully, “No wonder my game has been getting smaller. It turns out the prey is dwindling. It seems we really do need to pay attention to this.”

After a brief pause, he suddenly realized something and said, “Wait, Franz, don’t try to change the subject. I’ve seen through this trick of yours countless times.

With your terrible marksmanship, if you ever found yourself on a battlefield, who knows how many comrades you’d accidentally injure? Don’t you feel ashamed?”

Franz countered, “Don’t worry, Father. That kind of scenario is impossible. And if it ever came to the point where I had to take the battlefield, do you really think my marksmanship would even matter?”

Clearly frustrated, Archduke Karl glared at Franz and scolded, “You and your endless excuses! Do whatever you want, but don’t let anyone say I taught you to shoot! I can’t bear the embarrassment!”

Franz replied with perfect composure, “No problem. If you hadn’t mentioned it just now, no one would have known anyway.”

Archduke Karl’s face darkened as if he’d just suffered a blow to his pride. Seeing the barely restrained smiles on everyone’s faces, he let out a cold huff, “Hmph!”

This kind of banter had happened many times before. In fact, the older Archduke Karl got, the more he enjoyed finding faults with his sons. Franz was long accustomed to it.

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When it came to marksmanship, however, Archduke Karl had every reason to be proud. Even compared to sharpshooters in the army, he was no slouch.

With a specialized sniper rifle, Archduke Karl could reliably hit targets at a range of 500 meters, making him unquestionably the best marksman in the royal family.

This was precisely what frustrated Archduke Karl the most. He had no successor for his exceptional marksmanship.

The younger generation of the Habsburgs approached learning to shoot with a casual, playful attitude. Most of them were only marginally better than Franz.

In Franz’s view, this was completely normal. Sharpshooters were rare, and ordinary skill levels were the standard.

The Habsburgs had always excelled in politics and diplomacy. Producing even one sharpshooter was an exception so how could there possibly be a whole batch?

In fact, the previous generation of the Habsburgs could be considered the most unfortunate.

His uncle Ferdinand suffered from congenital health issues, his father Archduke Karl lacked political talent entirely, pouring all his ability into marksmanship, and none of his uncles had much capability either.

By Franz’s generation, the situation had slightly improved. Even with Maximilian, the idealist, everyone’s intelligence was still within the normal range.

The next generation was still too young to fully assess their capabilities, but Franz believed progress was likely. At the very least, there were no cases of congenital illness among them.

And that made sense as such conditions were rare. It wasn’t likely to recur every generation unless it was a hereditary disease, in which case the odds would remain high regardless of whom they married.

Being a parent wasn’t easy, as Franz had personally experienced. He had spent no small amount of effort arranging suitable marriages for his sons.

The marriage of Franz’s eldest son, Frederick, was proving to be a major headache. A political marriage was non-negotiable. It was both the responsibility and duty of the heir to the throne.

Deciding whom he should marry, however, left Franz deeply troubled. It wasn’t just about political considerations, he also had to account for the upbringing and qualities of the prospective bride. Being an empress wasn’t an easy role, and even as a future empress, she needed a certain level of personal capability.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t be an asset but a liability that would hold them back. There’s a saying in the modern world: “Marrying the wrong woman can ruin three generations.” But in this case, marrying the wrong wife wouldn’t just ruin generations, it could destroy an entire nation.

Franz wasn’t hoping for her to provide substantial support. He simply wanted her not to create unnecessary problems.

Even this modest expectation was difficult to meet. Franz finally understood why European royalty preferred late marriages… they were forced to do so.

Every political marriage was a test for the royal family. A single wrong choice could bring about disasters that were impossible to undo.

As for love? That could be set aside for now. Based on past experience, the majority of royal marriages had little to do with love.

The requirement of “matching status” alone ruled out most potential romantic matches. For his younger sons, the standards could be lowered. So long as they weren’t inheriting the throne, it wasn’t a big deal.

For the crown prince, however, there was no such leniency. Opposition would come not just from within the royal family but from all sectors of society. The biggest hurdle was public opinion, which often couldn’t tolerate a mismatch.

Those romantic royal love stories that circulated in later eras? Who knew how much heartache they concealed, or how much political trouble they caused?

Even less understood was the cost of creating those enchanting love stories. How many people shed blood and tears to make them possible?

This was both a duty and an obligation. To enjoy the privileges of being born into royalty, one had to pay the price. Marriage was merely one part of that cost.

…

At the Vienna Palace, a stack of photographs landed in Franz’s hands. The images depicted princesses from various countries, each accompanied by detailed notes. These were meticulously selected by Empress Helene.

In truth, there wasn’t much to choose from. She had simply eliminated candidates with health issues or unsuitable ages, leaving only the most viable options.

The youngest was just five years old, and the eldest was no more than twenty. Franz was at a loss for words, musing: This is like picking a wife from a kindergarten—some are students, and others are teachers.

Of course, this selection wasn’t solely for Frederick’s future wife. The potential brides for his other sons were likely among them as well. Only if no suitable match could be found would lowering the standards become an option.

Lowering standards might sound straightforward, but in practice, it was anything but simple. Empress Helene firmly opposed the idea, believing it would lead to significant complications in her sons’ future lives.