At the Vienna Grand Hotel, a deeply moving scene unfolded as two unlucky men poured out their woes to each other. It was enough to break the hearts of those who heard it and bring tears to the eyes of those who listened.
And then there was no then. No matter how much Maximilian wanted to help, it was meaningless.
Over the years, in his efforts to restore his country, Maximilian had not only exhausted all his connections but also racked up a mountain of favors owed. By now, his personal influence over the Vienna Government had dwindled to practically zero.
Other than looking respectable on the surface, Maximilian, the exiled emperor of Mexico, was nothing but an empty shell. His only use was probably that his status was high enough for him to speak up at critical moments—though whether his words would have any effect was another matter entirely.
Even for that little bit of help, Leopold II was unwilling to give up. No matter what, having someone speak on his behalf was better than having no one at all.
No matter how little political influence Maximilian had, he was still someone who could directly influence Franz. The fact that he could receive several hundred thousand each year in restoration funds was the best proof.
But people grew. Though deeply moved and very willing to help Belgium, Maximilian was no longer the boy he had once been.
"Leopold, my personal advice is not to place too much hope in this. As far as I know, the Vienna Government has run a fiscal deficit again this year.
"If you truly want to obtain funds from Vienna, it would be better to raise money through private channels. The interest may be a little higher, but you won't have to pay too