Vienna, Schönbrunn Palace.
The moment Franz returned, he received good news: Olga's second child had been born safely.
"It's a boy, Your Majesty."
Doctor Melissa said.
Franz took the child and looked him over. He seemed a full size larger than little Karl had been at birth.
Franz's eldest son, Karl Augustus, had weighed less than three kilograms at birth, while little Karl's younger brother had weighed nearly five.
Franz had actually opposed Olga continuing to bear children. After all, it was far too dangerous for an older mother to give birth in this era—and at such a critical juncture, no less.
Fortunately, mother and son were both safe. Still, Russian women past thirty, combined with Vienna's high-sugar, high-oil, high-fat diet—it was no wonder the little fellow was so sturdy.
The ceremony for Franz's second child's birth was just as grand, though the gathering was not quite as complete. It could not be helped. With the eldest son already born, many matters were no longer in doubt, and naturally the attention paid to it had waned.
"Has the little fellow been named?"
Franz asked.
"Not yet, Your Majesty."
Franz turned to Olga.
"My dear, you do it."
"Alright! Then he shall be called—"
Olga had barely begun when Franz cut her off.
"Anything but Peter. We can discuss anything else."
Franz did not much like that name; it carried far too much of a Russian flavor.
"Then let him be called Alexander."
And so Franz and Olga's second child, Alexander, came into the world.
In truth, Alexander was also considered a rather unlucky name in the House of Habsburg. After all, the previous Archduke named Alexander had been obsessed with developing fireworks, and in an accident, his life had vanished like fireworks as well.
Still, at the very least, he