Franz nodded, though it didn't matter.
"Would you like a smoke?"
"Please give me a cigar."
Franz nodded. Bordeaux, standing nearby, took out a cigar and a box of matches and handed them to Joseph Loei.
The latter struck the match several times, but it wouldn't light. It wasn't because Austrian matches were poor quality, nor had Franz tampered with them to deliberately tease him. Joseph Loei's hands were simply trembling nonstop.
At last, with a sharp "tss," the match caught. Joseph Loei took a labored puff, then slowly exhaled a ring of smoke.
"This is a fine cigar. French? Or Cuban, from Spain?"
"It's made in the Nicaraguan region of Austrian Central America. Its quality is every bit as good as Cuban cigars."
Nicaraguan cigars in later generations were indeed every bit as good as Cuban cigars in quality, but years of warfare had left them far less famous.
The same was true at this time, though one important reason was that the Austrian Empire was not powerful enough, nor influential enough.
Even if French-made cigars were poor quality, people still considered them the finest in the world. That stereotype did not disappear until after World War II.
Joseph Loei nodded, then gave a bitter smile and voiced the question on his mind.
"When do you plan to execute me?"
Franz shook his head.
"You've accumulated too much hatred. I'll send you somewhere suitable to stand trial."
Franz would have Joseph Loei and Frey Holosay tried in Switzerland and Vienna, one after the other, before sending them to the Vatican for the Pope's final judgment.
Two petitions from Switzerland and Vienna, along with evidence of their crimes, would arrive with them.
In truth, the Papal States had an irreconcilable hatred for the two men. Joseph Loei had already swept