"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"I should be the one thanking you. As a soldier, you fulfilled your duty with honor. I am proud of you."
"The French have surrendered! We've won!"
The great clock within Metz rang madly without pause. Freshly picked petals drifted down like snowflakes. Some were so overwhelmed they could barely breathe; others fell to their knees in prayer.
Cheers and applause engulfed the entire city as people sang, danced, and gathered in celebration.
For nobles, commoners, and social elites alike, it was a carnival. After all, Franz's very existence was the finest proof that monarchy could be great once more.
The commoners believed Franz was safeguarding their interests, the nationalists had found release for their emotions, and prosperity and stability were what everyone desired.
But what people cared about most was victory itself. France's defeat was the best proof of the German Nation's strength.
The threat had been lifted and the pent-up pressure released, but most crucially, the commoners needed celebration to confirm that the war had truly ended.
Nineteenth-century commoners had neither the internet nor satellite phones. Their only channels for receiving news were proclamations, newspapers, and words passed from mouth to mouth.
What they had not seen with their own eyes always felt abstract. Moreover, wartime information was often both overwhelming and tightly restricted. True and false reports flew everywhere; exaggerated victories and fabricated triumphs left everyone seeing enemies in every tree and bush.
None of the parties possessed sufficient credibility, which was why the commoners lacked any real sense of it. Even after hearing it mentioned over and over, they still wanted to confirm it for themselves.
And celebration was precisely a form of collective verification.
Just as Gustave Le Bon wrote in The Crowd:
"Once an individual is placed within a crowd,