Rome.
At dawn, the sun rose, and its light had just begun to spill across the ancient stone streets. A trace of lingering chill still hung in the air.
The streets, which should have been quiet, were already lined with people. Children clutched flowers, bouncing and waving their bouquets.
People called Franz's name at the top of their lungs, and flowers flew toward the procession. If the guards at Franz's side hadn't long been accustomed to grand occasions, they would surely have panicked—or been carried away with delight.
Even the royal guards, seasoned as they were, were still stunned by the locals' enthusiasm. After all, in Austria, people didn't just line the streets to welcome someone; they also marched in protest.
But the people here wore radiant smiles, their faces brimming with joy and excitement. Whenever the motorcade passed through an area, the residents followed along behind it.
Rome's residents seemed to welcome them sincerely, without the slightest trace of pretense. The whole city was filled with a festive air, nothing like a place that had just suffered a catastrophe.
In truth, this was a kind of talent Romans possessed: they were adept at hiding their true intentions. After all, they had to humor the clerics and foreign visitors.
Still, they weren't merely humoring Franz, an outsider. In fact, he had come to Rome's rescue in its hour of need.
And Franz had brought them something new, too: the means to obtain life's necessities without having to grovel excessively.
As for labor, it was the cheapest thing in Rome at the moment.
Franz was still following the same old approach of providing relief through work. But using someone else's money to win people's hearts felt pretty good.
Rome needed to be rebuilt, and that was part of Franz's deal with