Franz Josef moved the ball of his nightcap from his eyes and sighed. “Berchtold is a fool, uncle. Political pressure isn’t enough to coerce the Serbians. We need something more tangible; something to force them to give us Ferdinand’s murderers.”
“I miss the fires of youth,” said Josef, sitting on his bed and letting his slippers drop off his toes. “I miss the longing for vengeance, the piss and the sweat of it. But I am not young, nephew. Nor do I have that excuse for rashness.” Karl paced wildly across the floor, grunting at every word.
“Is it rash to see justice done? Is it foolish to seek revenge for murdered kin?” “Pretty words, Karl,” he said, snuffing the candle on his nightstand, “but enacting them would murder more of our kin. Perhaps Leopold is right…”
Karl put his hand on his Grand Uncle’s shoulder. “I know losing Franz pains you, uncle,” he paused to let cool air blow through his words, “near as much as the loss of your own, dear Rudolf.” Josef sighed, and shuddered, and wiped at his eyes. Karl bolted the window. “Hotzendorff believes we can take the Serbians with no trouble at all.” “My chief of staff is correct in that, Karl. But the Tsar has strong ties with the Serbians, blood ties they will fight for as easily as you for Ferdinand.”
“The Russian is a coward. He lets that mad monk cavort with his wife in full public view. It’s disgraceful.” Josef sighed again, but his chest lifted. “And we’re neglecting what’s most important. What would Franz have asked of us?”
Josef opened his eyes and softly fixed them on his nephew. “Ferdinand was… placid.” “Certainly he was personable, but he spent a decade rebuilding our armies. To what purpose? Passivity? Submission? And during the Balkan Wars he offered the Serbians no quarter at all. I can’t think his ambition was to create a craven militia.”
Josef rolled under his covers, and Karl pulled the blankets over him. "Perhaps you're right, nephew. I wills speak to Conrad in the morning. Perhaps we should show these Serbians the cost of Habsburg blood." Karl put out the last candle on his way out.
