Chapter 25, The First Step in Saving Austria

Vienna's weather in January 1848 was exceptionally cold, and the snow had not melted yet.

The chilling wind brushed against the face, and Franz shivered, while the nobility officers behind him fared even worse, many of them trembling uncontrollably.

If it wasn't for Franz being on the training ground, they would have run back into their cozy rooms long ago.

But there was no helping it; the glory of the nobility did not allow them to retreat at this moment.

General Albrecht, responsible for the training, revealed a satisfied smile, as he had not expected Franz to employ such a method to get these pampered soldiers to participate in training.

In the frigid snowscape, one's will was truly put to the test. Franz knew that the days of peace in the Austrian Empire were coming to an end. Once the March Revolution broke out, where would be the safest place?

Without a doubt, it would be the military camp!

Whether it was to suppress a rebellion or to flee, staying with the army was much safer than being in the Imperial Palace.

The nobility officers behind him were Franz's core supporters. Although they didn't seem reliable in any way, he had to give them a try, didn't he?

When you find out your teammates are terrible, do not panic, do not fear, your enemies are even worse!

That was the confidence Franz had; no matter how bad the City Defense Army was, it was still an army, wasn't it?

The enemy he would be facing was not a world superpower, and they couldn't even be considered an army. If the enemy could arm every man with a gun, then he would admit defeat!

"Attention!"

"Everyone, run a lap around the training ground. Those who can't complete the task, no breakfast for you this morning!"

General Albrecht issued the command in a cold tone, sending a shiver down many spines in the biting wind.

The training field was no small feat; one lap was a whopping ten or so kilometers, which was quite an ordeal for these pampered nobles.

Before they could refuse, Franz had already started running ahead, leading by example, so they had no choice but to grit their teeth and follow.

Who asked them to boast in the first place? Before the training even began, Franz had hosted a banquet for these officers.

After a few drinks, they all forgot what they were truly made of. Without thinking, they agreed to Franz's demands.

Now, training alongside the Crown Prince, whoever chickened out would be the laughingstock; in order to uphold their noble pride, they had to endure.

Otherwise, they were prepared to become the butt of the joke in noble circles! Breaking a promise was one thing, but it mattered who that promise was to, didn't it?

Many were awaiting for Franz to falter so they could take the opportunity to request a reduction in the training's intensity. This way, they could maintain the Crown Prince's dignity while no longer torturing themselves.

Clearly, the final outcome disappointed everyone. Franz's physique was honed from a young age; he could complete the ten or so kilometers.

Breakfast began, and Franz, along with the nobility officers who had completed the run, ate bread and drank milk, silently watching the main troop progress at a snail's pace.

Seeing someone faint and carried away for treatment, they didn't hesitate to comment and point fingers as if those people were a disgrace to the nobility, deterring others from easily following suit.

Everyone cared about face; under everyone's watchful eyes, no one wanted to admit they were useless.

Besides, Franz didn't just choose anyone for this training. Most of the participants were teenagers and young adults in their twenties; the old hands naturally were not included.

To Franz, these melodramatic teenagers were still salvageable and could potentially become the backbone of the Austrian Empire with some training.

As for the old slick ones, no matter how much they were trained, their nature as the Empire's parasites couldn't be changed— the more capable they were, the greater the harm they potentially caused.

Watching the last officer finish running, Franz didn't mock but instead started applauding.

"Grand Duke, why do you clap for them when they have performed so poorly?" asked an officer next to him, very cooperatively.

Conscience-tweaking, Franz said, "No, their performance wasn't poor at all. Although the process was a bit tortuous, they still persisted and completed the task, which is what qualifies a soldier, though admittedly their physical fitness needs to be improved!"

Hearing this, the atmosphere among the crowd instantly shifted from gloomy to sunny; indeed, they had completed the task without disgracing themselves.

"An army man, after all, prioritizes fulfilling commands," they assured themselves. "What is there to fear in a somewhat tortuous process?"

Franz wasn't foolish. How could he intentionally demoralize everyone? Despite their underwhelming image, the foundation of these nobles was not bad at all.

Being immersed in military education from an early age, they were stronger than the vast majority of civilian officers. It was only due to a lack of supervision afterward that they gradually became profligate.

To rescue the Austrian Empire, one must first save the next generation of Austrian nobility. Only when these individuals stood tall could the Empire truly become strong.

Franz had wanted to join the military long ago, but unfortunately, due to his young age—still not yet 18 years old—if not for the outbreak of the January Revolution, he would have had no reason to convince his family.

Looking at these easily deceived youths before him, he knew the road to their education was long and arduous.

There was no time left, so he would have to make do. Perhaps a short, intense boot camp could suffice to deal with a rabble? With the "Labor Protection Law" as a foundation, surely the vast working classes wouldn't want to staunchly oppose the government?

In history, the March Revolution in Vienna was dissolved by political strategies. It wasn't until the May Revolution that the government lost control and had to make a strategic retreat.

"Assemble!"

The stern voice of Albrecht rang out, and the resting officers, dragging their weary bodies, slowly arranged themselves into an orderly formation.

Seeing the steely-faced Albrecht, Franz knew the General felt that his subordinates had let him down.

The formation was neat, but their spirit reminded Franz of college military training, where everyone looked like eggplants beaten by the frost.

Suddenly, Albrecht's mouth twitched into a slight smile, and Franz knew someone was in for misfortune.

Albrecht, brandishing his baton, stepped down from his position, and soon a pained scream travelled from behind.

Franz turned habitually to look and saw a corpulent figure comically lying on the ground; if one looked closely, they'd notice a footprint on his behind.

"What are you looking at!"

Albrecht's icy voice sounded, and everyone quickly withdrew their gaze. Now thoroughly alert— with one "chicken" already made an example of— no one wanted to be the second.

Even so, screams occasionally pierced the air as Albrecht wielded his baton, swiftly correcting anyone who was not up to standard.

There was no choice; the Nobility Officers were accustomed to privilege, and aside from Albrecht, whose high rank accorded him certain liberties, other instructors wouldn't dare touch them.

It was a rare opportunity now, for if this moment were missed, finding them in the barracks would be no easy feat.