Chapter Seven: It's Time to Showcase True Skill

“Why are you bullying Grandpa?” Franz burst into tears and ran over.

Archduke Franz II saw his grandson rushing toward him and instinctively pushed Prince Esterházy aside. Patting his grandson’s head, he said, “What’s wrong? Grandpa is the Emperor; no one can bully me.”

“Then why were they surrounding you and trying to grab your arm just now? I saw it all—they wanted to bully you!”

“I didn’t! It wasn’t on purpose! You little brat, don’t talk nonsense!” Prince Esterházy, used to commanding others with an air of authority, couldn’t stand being falsely accused out of nowhere and retorted dismissively.

Realizing the situation was going awry, Prince Esterházy tried to explain himself.

Princes Metternich and Count Korolov, initially shocked, were seasoned veterans who had seen all kinds of scenes.

“Esterházy, know your place! How dare you speak to Archduke Franz like that!” Metternich’s words implied, Do you not respect the royal family?

Count Korolov was less subtle; he growled, “What are you trying to do to the Emperor? How dare you!”

Korolov’s harsh tone effectively confirmed suspicions that Esterházy intended harm against the Emperor. Though Archduke Franz was not yet Emperor, who could guarantee he wouldn’t be in decades to come?

With such powerful allies backing him, Franz seized the moment. He didn’t need to say a word—just one thing: cry!

At first, Emperor Franz II didn’t pay much attention, thinking Prince Esterházy was just overreacting. But after the two seasoned schemers fanned the flames and Franz suddenly burst into tears, an uncontrollable rage welled up inside the old Emperor. In a fit of fury, he flung his golden goblet toward Prince Esterházy.

Misfortune struck. Esterházy instinctively blocked the cup, which ricocheted and struck Emperor Franz II squarely on the forehead.

The situation escalated! Seeing this, Esterházy feared the worst and rushed to check if the Emperor was injured.

But Count Tural, the War Minister, yelled and charged forward.

“The Emperor is hurt! Protect His Majesty!”

Standing beside Emperor Franz II was Grand Duke Louis, his younger brother and commander of the palace guards. Though not very sharp, his loyalty to the Emperor was absolute.

At the moment the goblet hit Franz II, Grand Duke Louis stood by his brother’s side. Hearing the call to “Protect His Majesty,” he instinctively drew his sword.

Louis’s sword was the only weapon in the entire Hall of Mirrors. The tension in the room instantly thickened. The palace guards knew the Grand Duke was not the brightest, but the nobles and their attendants did not—and chaos erupted.

Seeing Esterházy charging at his brother, Louis swung his sword. He only intended to separate them; Esterházy dodged just in time, unharmed.

But to the onlookers, the scene looked far more sinister.

Because he distrusted the Germans, Esterházy had brought attendants who, except for Pitru, only spoke Hungarian.

His men, witnessing this, were immediately fired up.

“Kill the Austrian Emperor, seize his throne!” Such talk was common among Hungarian nobility. Though the great lords treated it as a joke, the lesser nobles listening took it seriously.

Moreover, as servants of Esterházy, they recognized only their prince, not the Austrian Emperor.

Esterházy’s men made a move to storm the throne and finish off the old Emperor.

The palace guards, though perhaps not the strongest fighters, were fiercely loyal.

Many had served the Habsburgs for generations, some for over a dozen.

Suddenly, the Hall of Mirrors erupted. Esterházy’s men charged toward the throne as if their lives depended on it.

The palace guards fought desperately; some blocked the main aisle, others tackled Esterházy’s bodyguards.

The captain of the palace guards struck the ancient alarm bell that hadn’t rung in centuries.

Soon, 800 palace guards stationed around the palace received the signal and rushed madly toward the Hall of Mirrors.

A purple firework exploded in the sky above the palace. The city’s defense forces and Vienna’s garrison commanders immediately mobilized to support the palace.

Inside the hall, all of Esterházy’s men were subdued. Count Tural seized the opportunity to knock down Prince Vendigorets and punched him twice.

Prince Metternich hid behind a pillar, only emerging once the chaos subsided.

Count Korolov took the chance to severely beat a noble he disliked.

Only Baron Bruck, a straightforward man who tried to stop Esterházy’s men, was knocked down with a single punch.

The doors were kicked open as a large force of palace guards poured into the hall, encircling everyone.

Esterházy looked on in disbelief. He couldn’t believe his eyes—how had it come to this?

Honestly, Franz hadn’t expected it either. He only intended to eliminate Esterházy, the leader of the opposition.

He never imagined this would be the end for him.

Emperor Franz II rubbed his bruised forehead, his heart filled with fear and anger.

“Esterházy, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I... I... I didn’t mean it. For God’s sake, believe me.”

Franz II stood and approached the fallen Esterházy, drawing the sword from Grand Duke Louis.

Seeing this, fear engulfed Esterházy. He scrambled backward, supporting himself with his hands, repeating, “My ancestors served the Empire, shed blood for the Empire...”

Franz II’s face was expressionless as he raised the sword.

“I have three million florins deposited in the Vienna Bank.”

The sword stopped just inches from Esterházy. He felt a sudden warmth beneath him—he was terrified.

Franz II took a deep breath. “Esterházy, for failing to recognize the true nature of men and bringing an assassin into the palace, but considering your ancestors’ merits and that you were deceived, I hereby strip you of your title, confiscate all your properties in Vienna, and order you to return to Hungary immediately. You are forbidden to set foot in Vienna again for the rest of your life.”

Turning, Franz II walked back to the throne and tossed the sword to Grand Duke Louis.

Louis sheathed the sword and gestured to the palace guards.

Prince Esterházy was dragged out by two guards, his eyes vacant as if half his life had been taken.

The Esterházy family owned vast lands in Hungary, but most of their wealth was invested in Vienna real estate—losing it was like losing half his life.

Compared to Esterházy, his men fared worse. Pitru, also brought by Esterházy, was captured as well.

Pitru feared he would spend the rest of his life in prison. Then he saw a guard pull a garrote from his bag. He tried to flee, to scream, but was gagged with a rag.

He felt a tug from behind as the noose was slipped around his neck. The guard began twisting the other end of the garrote.

The device tightened slowly. Pitru struggled violently, gasping for air, clawing at the noose in a desperate attempt to save himself, but the guard was skilled, giving him no chance.

After two futile kicks with his feet, Pitru ceased struggling.

Thirteen bodies were collected and loaded onto a special carriage, to be removed from the palace by dusk.