Clearly, before news of Prussia's defeat had even spread, every faction was already unable to resist stepping into the fray.
In this regard, Franz still greatly admired Lord Palmerston. The old man might have been wicked, but he truly knew how to keep his composure. From a certain perspective, he could even be said to practice what he preached.
Though one explosive piece of news after another arrived in rapid succession, Austria was filled with excitement. The Prussians had fallen too quickly; the Austrians in the rear had not even figured out what was happening.
A group of nobles and soldiers who had not rushed to the front at the first opportunity, along with a great number of speculators and patriots, were still beating their chests and stamping their feet in taverns.
There was another, even more unfortunate group of victims. Most of them were heirs to great families, or especially beloved children.
Their families had commissioned brand-new equipment and splendid uniforms so they could go to war in greater style. After all, this was supposed to be part of the tradition in aristocratic circles.
Yet such high-end custom goods were often slow to produce. Some parents and wives had even specially given the tailors gratuities, asking them to make everything more exquisite.
The tailors were sensible people too, and naturally understood that fine work took time. But when news of the front-line triumph arrived, every high-end tailor in Vienna, along with their families, vanished overnight.
Finn Ziram was a textbook Austrian noble: attend school, graduate, marry, then gain experience in the army before entering government service.
Fortunately, war had come, and his battalion had happened to draw lots and be selected for the first wave to head to the front. Even more fortunately, his parents and wife all supported