Vienna, cloaked in silver and snow, welcomed the annual Christmas once more. The bitter cold had not dampened anyone's enthusiasm; the spirit of the festival already filled Vienna.
Shop windows displayed Christmas gifts vying in splendor, while colorful game stalls for the Christmas market had been set up around the Gothic fountain at the center of the square.
Quite a few street performers had begun their acts as well—warm, sweet, wistful, melancholy melodies, and dances pleasing to the eye.
The charm of an international metropolis was on full display. Vienna truly deserved its title as the City of Music and the City of Art. Here, one could enjoy Europe's distinctive music, dances in every style, and magic shows.
Franz still had not received good news from South Africa. It seemed this war could not be ended before Christmas. There were no surprises; all of this was within Franz's expectations.
Suffering a minor setback was not necessarily a bad thing. It could make people calm down. Austria's expansion had gone too smoothly these past years, and many people had already become carried away.
If they had not been so arrogantly overconfident, they would not have proclaimed that Cape Town would be occupied before Christmas. Now that they had failed, it was the perfect time to tighten the reins on Austria's carriage.
The era of great colonial expansion was over. All that remained were scraps that mattered little either way. Next came the time to develop themselves and turn their spoils of war into their own strength.
There were no successful examples to draw upon in this regard. The major colonial empires of the original timeline had all failed miserably. Before they could turn their colonies into their own strength, the World War erupted.
And then there was no then. Their strength