Holy Roman Empire

At the hunting grounds of the Vienna Palace, Franz’s marksmanship remains as steady as ever.

Perhaps he loved life too much and couldn’t bear to kill, which is why every time he fired his gun, the unlucky victims were the flowers and grass around him.

"Franz," a familiar voice rang out, "how many times have I told you, that’s not how you use a gun! Can’t you aim a little better?"

Undoubtedly, the speaker was Archduke Carl, as no one else would dare to be so unrestrained.

Franz argued confidently, "Hunting is, after all, a game, why take it so seriously?

The game has already diminished greatly; if we continue this havoc, it won’t be long before they’re extinct."

One must not lose face, and after many years of political grooming, Franz had long since mastered the art of remaining unfazed.

In no time at all, he found a suitable excuse. The hunting grounds of the Imperial Palace were small, so naturally, there weren’t many wild animals.

Archduke Carl was also a keen hunter, and many of the clever wild animals had fled. Only the less intelligent ones remained, and now the hunting yield was getting smaller and smaller.

Of course, fleeing wasn’t necessarily a good option. In these times, without any wildlife protection laws, the animals might die even quicker outside.

Archduke Carl nodded thoughtfully, "No wonder my yield is getting smaller; the game is decreasing. It indeed requires attention."

After a pause, he had a sudden realization, "Hold on, Franz, stop diverting the topic. Your trick is worn out.

With your terrible shooting skills, if you were on the battlefield, who knows how many comrades you’d accidentally harm. Don’t you feel any shame?"

Franz retorted, "Don’t worry, Father. Such a scenario could never happen. If it really came to me going to battle, do you think marksmanship would still matter?"

Seemingly angry, Archduke Carl glared at Franz and scolded, "You and your twisted logic! Do as you wish. Just don’t say that you learned shooting from me; I can’t afford to lose that face."

Franz responded very cooperatively, "No problem, if you hadn’t mentioned it just now, they wouldn’t even know."

Archduke Carl’s face changed colors as if he had lost face. Seeing the expression of the others who wanted to laugh but dared not, he snorted coldly.

This kind of verbal sparring had occurred many times. Especially as he aged, Archduke Carl enjoyed nitpicking his sons more and more, and Franz had long since gotten used to it.

When it came to marksmanship, Archduke Carl could indeed be proud. Even compared to the sharpshooters in the military, he wouldn’t fall short.

Using a specialized sniper rifle, Carl could achieve effective hits from beyond five hundred meters, undeniably the first in marksmanship within the Royal Family.

This was also Archduke Carl’s most frustrating aspect; he had no heir to his shooting prowess.

The younger members of the Habsburg Family approached learning marksmanship with a playful attitude, and most were only slightly better than Franz.

In Franz’s view, this was the normal state of affairs; sharpshooters couldn’t be that numerous, common people were the mainstream.

The Habsburg Family was known for its politics and diplomacy; even having one sharpshooter was an exception, so mass production was out of the question.

In reality, the previous generation of the Habsburg Family could be considered the most hard-pressed.

Uncle Ferdinand suffered from a congenital disease, and my father, Archduke Carl, had no political talent whatsoever; all of his talents were focused on marksmanship, and none of his other brothers had much ability either.

In Franz’s generation, the situation had slightly improved. Even though they had the idealist Maximilian, everyone’s intelligence was still normal.

The next generation was still too young to fully determine their abilities, but Franz believed there should be progress, at least there was no one with congenital diseases.

That made sense; such a small probability, it shouldn’t hit every time. Unless it’s a hereditary family disease, then there’s no helping it, the chance of being ill is high regardless of whom you’re with.

It’s not easy being a parent, and Franz had experienced this firsthand. For the sake of his sons’ marriages, Franz had also put in a lot of effort.

Especially the marriage of his eldest son, Frederick, which was a major trouble. A political marriage was necessary; it was the duty and obligation of the Crown Prince.

Choosing whom to marry was a headache for Franz. He had to consider not just the political impact, but also the upbringing of the potential spouse. Being Empress was no easy task, even a prospective Empress needed a certain personal capability.

Otherwise, it’s not an asset but a dragging liability. As people often say on the internet in later ages, marrying the wrong woman can ruin three generations, but for a Crown Prince to marry the wrong wife, it could destroy more than just three generations; it could ruin an entire nation.

Franz didn’t expect to gain much assistance, he only asked for no added trouble.

Even this modest requirement was actually quite difficult to meet. Now Franz finally understood why the European Royal Family preferred late marriages; they were forced into it.

Every political marriage was a test for the Royal family, and once the wrong choice was made, the resulting disaster was irreversible.

Love, let’s put that aside for now! According to past experiences, the vast majority of Royal family members’ marriages had nothing to do with love.

One requirement of marrying within one’s social class blocks out the majority of love matches. If you lower the standard, it’s feasible for the second son to play around as long as he’s not inheriting the throne.

But the Crown Prince doesn’t have that luxury. It’s not just the Royal family that would oppose, but all sectors of society, and the most troublesome part is that the public would not accept it either.

The romantic love stories of the Royal Family that are passed down in later ages, who knows how much sorrow lies behind them, or how much political trouble they caused?

Nobody knows how much blood and sacrifice lie behind the creation of a heartwarming love story.

This is duty and obligation; having enjoyed the benefits of a Royal family birth, one must pay the price, and marriage is just a part of it.

...

In the Vienna Palace, a stack of photographs appeared in Franz’s hands, all depicting princesses from various countries, with annotations on the back containing their details, all meticulously chosen by Queen Helen.

Alright, there wasn’t really much to choose from. She had merely filtered out those with poor health or unsuitable ages, and the rest were here.

The youngest was only five, and the oldest no more than twenty. Franz was almost speechless, only able to lament: this is like finding a bride in a kindergarten, the youngest are students, and the eldest are teachers.

Of course, this wasn’t just for finding Frederick a bride, potential brides for his other sons might also be among them. Only if no suitable candidates were available would they consider lowering the standards.

Lowering standards is easy to say but very difficult in practice. At least Queen Helen was firmly against it, believing it would bring significant trouble to her sons’ lives in the future.

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