After Franz had finally finished a mountain of work for the day, he had just started to catch his breath when bad news arrived.
"Your Majesty, I don't know what got into the Russian Tsar, but they actually want the Poles to convert!"
Prince Schwarzenberg sounded excited. There was no doubt that, in his eyes, this was good news.
Seeing Prince Schwarzenberg's expression, Franz didn't even need to ask. The Russians had certainly failed.
Austria wasn't interested in the Poles in Russia's bowl, but it certainly didn't want the Poles to be peacefully assimilated by the Russians, either.
At least, that was true for most people.
"Trying to make the Poles convert? The Russians have finally bitten off more than they can chew."
"Your Majesty, you actually guessed the outcome."
Prince Schwarzenberg wasn't surprised that Franz had guessed the outcome. Franz had already hinted at it with his words and expression, but Schwarzenberg still offered a clumsy bit of flattery.
Prince Schwarzenberg hadn't been one to flatter people. The man he'd been in history would never have done such a thing. But Franz was very different from his historical counterpart. The former had no so-called "debt of having put him on the throne," while the latter was practically a god in the eyes of the world. So Prince Schwarzenberg was learning how to be an obedient minister.
Flattery always went down well. Franz had spent so many years immersed in the royal family and high society that he understood it was more respectful not to call Schwarzenberg out.
In fact, a subordinate's occasional compliments helped maintain a good working relationship, and a smart leader knew when to accept them. The key to everything was moderation.
Franz didn't dwell on such trivial matters. What concerned him was the actual situation.
"How