Chapter Two: A Revelation

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St. Stephen’s Cathedral is the largest church in Vienna and serves as the site for the Austrian emperor’s coronations and burials. It can be said to be a symbol of Vienna itself. Situated right in the heart of the city, it is often called the “Heart of Vienna.”

The cathedral was begun in 1304 and completed two centuries later, embodying both Gothic style and Renaissance influences.

Outside, one can see the roof adorned with 230,000 colorful glazed tiles. Under the sunlight, the intricate double-headed eagle pattern formed by these tiles is truly a masterpiece.

Pushing open the cathedral’s heavy doors, the scent of age and dust greets you, soon mingled with the aroma of resin and incense.

Inside, the light gradually dims, with only the flickering candlelight on the altar casting a sacred glow. The temperature seems to drop, enveloping visitors in a sense of peace and tranquility.

A solemn and divine atmosphere pervades, far removed from worldly clamor. Even the heart of Emperor Franz II seems to quiet in this sacred space.

With the emperor’s arrival, Archbishop Laascher, as the chief prelate of Vienna, naturally steps forward to greet him personally.

Yet his corpulent figure and ostentatious vestments feel starkly out of place within this ancient and holy cathedral.

Franz II, unusually impatient this time, does not wait for the perpetually tardy Archbishop. He walks directly to the family shrine, his fingers lightly tracing the ancient inscriptions carved there.

Unexpectedly swift for his usual lethargy, Archbishop Laascher approaches with unusual speed. After all, appointed by the emperor himself, how could he afford to slight his sovereign?

“Oh! Praise be to the grace of Jesus Christ, the mercy of God, and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. What brings the great earthly monarch here…”

Franz II waves him off. “Spare me the formalities. I have come simply to pay respects to my ancestors.”

The archbishop can clearly perceive the deeper meaning behind these words. As God’s representative, he wishes to maintain decorum. Yet he suddenly recalls the emperor’s pride and notoriously short patience.

“Your Majesty, within the house of God, you may speak freely.”

“…I…” Franz II hesitates briefly, then decides to speak. After all, he is a devout Catholic, and this archbishop of Vienna is his own appointee, no stranger. Most importantly, this portly man will surely agree with what he says and flatter him in return.

(European monarchs often use unique first-person pronouns to emphasize their sovereign identity. The Tsar uses “we” (plural first-person) to denote majesty; French kings say “je” or “nous”; German monarchs use “Wir.” All signify “I” in the imperial sense.)

“My grandson, little Franz, today in the nursery recited the prophecy of Frederick III.”

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“What is that?” Laascher instinctively asks, then immediately realizes his mistake. Isn’t the very inscription on this shrine the same? To mask his embarrassment, he adopts a composed air, as if nothing unusual has occurred.

“A.E.I.O.U,” Franz II utters proudly.

“That is a revelation…” the archbishop immediately assumes the mantle of a soothsayer.

Prophets across time and cultures behave the same way; Laascher is no exception. He delights in echoing the emperor’s words and has long pursued the notion of a “born saint.”

“Archbishop, do you mean…?” Franz II grows excited, for he shares that belief. Alas, he is not a commanding ruler and looks to divine signs to validate his convictions.

Laascher seizes the moment to flatter boldly.

“This is a good omen, foretelling that the Austrian Empire’s grand destiny and dominion shall surely be fulfilled.” He speaks with solemn conviction, as if truly inspired by divine insight.

In truth, such words are vague and noncommittal. While Laascher claims the empire’s greatness will come to pass, he never specifies when or to what extent. Strictly speaking, he neither lies nor contradicts doctrine.

For the hesitant Franz II, however, it is a potent tonic. This is not merely his hope—it is the will of God. In any event, should difficulties arise, he need not bear the blame. Instantly, his spirits brighten.

Having held the position of Archbishop of Vienna for many years, Laascher is adept at reading the room.

He muses, “The emperor is acting oddly today. Could he intend to pass the throne to his grandson?”

His thoughts then turn to the “Edict of State,” and a chill runs through him. But recalling Empress Maria Theresa, the prosperity of her era, and the church’s strong influence, his unease subsides.

“Your Majesty, I have met Archduke Franz. He is indeed a remarkable child. I recall when I baptized him, he splashed water all over me.”

Laascher has a favorable impression of Franz, who is often seen clutching a Bible with great affection—surely a sign of devotion.

In truth, young Franz barely knows much German yet. He likes holding the Bible because it is large enough to serve as a stepping stool, and its soft cover makes a comfortable seat. As a royal, Franz sometimes needs to prop himself up to maintain a dignified posture, and he pads beneath himself with several books.

Besides, the Bible doubles as a handy tool to discipline his younger brother Maximilian.

Maximilian, Franz’s second younger brother, seems naturally at odds with him; they constantly quarrel and tussle. Maximilian cannot match Franz’s two lifetimes of experience, yet Franz cannot truly be harsh with a mere child.

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Franz devised a solution: he takes a thick, large book, presses it onto Maximilian’s back, and then sits on it himself. This settles their childish disputes peacefully—and that book just happens to be the Bible.

As a result, Maximilian often finds himself pinned down, able to move only his hands and feet, resembling a little turtle trapped beneath its shell.

Yet the archbishop sees only a devout believer never parting from his Bible.

On the other hand, Archbishop Laascher has long sought a born saint to restore the people's faith in Catholicism.

After many years of fruitless searching and repeated failures, he has come to a decision:

Rather than wait for a saint to appear, it is better to create one himself.

Now that the old emperor has this inclination, Laascher will not miss the opportunity. If this child inherits the throne, then he will become the emperor’s godfather. At worst, he will be a Richelieu figure, wielding immense power during his lifetime and leaving a lasting legacy after death.

(Richelieu, the historically renowned Cardinal.)

“Your Majesty, you should follow the choice of your heart. Your choice is God’s will.” Laascher tactfully places the responsibility with divine providence rather than his own ambition.

“Archbishop, what are you implying?”

Laascher did not expect the forthright old emperor to speak so bluntly, and feeling a bit embarrassed, he forces a smile.

“May the Austrian Empire endure in peace and prosperity forever.”

The old emperor smiles in return. He may not be a wise ruler, but he will not be swayed by a charlatan—this is his pride as emperor, even if it is of little practical use.

“Perhaps this truly is a revelation…”