Mistaken for the Decoy Chariot

April 30, 1847. The great military strategist Archduke Charles passed away in Vienna, his death marking the end of an era.

The funeral for Archduke Charles was a grand affair. His nephew, Ferdinand I, came in person to attend the farewell ceremony, and representatives from all the major noble houses of Europe were present.

Franz was in a foul mood. Even having been reborn, he still could not face life and death with composure.

Even though he had inherited the military legacy of Archduke Charles, Franz felt no joy. Man is not made of wood or stone; who can be without emotion? Yet, as the heir apparent to the throne, he could not afford to possess too much of it.

"Your Highness, Mr. Baunfeld from the newspaper office is here to see you!" the maid Jenny whispered.

Franz was somewhat puzzled by the arrival of this uninvited guest. It seemed there was nothing of great importance at the newspaper office that required his personal intervention. He replied, "Bring him in."

"Respected Your Highness, a great disaster has occurred!" Baunfeld said, trembling with anxiety.

"Speak. The sky hasn't fallen yet," Franz said calmly.

Austria enforced a strict system of press censorship, with government officials stationed at newspaper offices to review content. Franz did not believe anything of such magnitude could have happened.

Could the staff have dared to print contraband newspapers on their own? If that were the case, Franz would not mind cleaning house.

Targeted by competitors?

At most, it would be commercial rivalry; he did not believe anyone would dare to break the rules.

Baunfeld explained, "Recently, some newspapers have been calling for the enactment of a Labor Protection Act, and we have participated in that movement."

"Continue. I don't see anything wrong with that," Franz said indifferently.

Baunfeld observed Franz's expression, then said with some trepidation, "We became one of the leaders in this news cycle. To draw more attention to the lives of the lower classes, we published a series of reports."

"Finish it all at once. Why are you stuttering? The matter has already happened; are you afraid to speak of it?" Franz chided, frowning.

He hated people who spoke in half-measures, stopping abruptly just as they reached the crux of the matter.

"Our editors, based on the intelligence we gathered, drafted a proposal suggesting that capitalists provide a series of protections for the working class. We never expected the government to take it seriously—it is very likely to become law!" Baunfeld said in a panic.

Franz understood why he was worried. Shouting slogans in the paper was something everyone was used to, and being a bit radical didn't matter. But once it became reality, things were different.

If the capitalists found out that the Labor Protection Act had been drafted by the "We Want Bread, We Want Cheese" newspaper, Baunfeld, as editor-in-chief, would be a dead man.

Not just him; it was likely that every employee at the paper would suffer. If things went poorly, even Franz, the man behind the curtain, might be implicated.

Faced with such a situation, Franz felt quite helpless. Could he say this was all the work of his subordinates and had nothing to do with him?

As the Crown Prince of Austria, could he really bow down to the bourgeoisie? What now? He had no choice but to bite the bullet.

"Bring me the proposal you drafted. Don't tell me you didn't prepare it!" Franz said with dissatisfaction.

He did not mean to blame Baunfeld. The newspaper had done nothing wrong in this matter; without knowing the inside story of the political struggle, their reports were consistent with the role Franz had envisioned for the paper.

"I brought it, Your Highness. Please take a look," Baunfeld said nervously.

His only reliance now was Franz. As the Imperial Crown Prince, even if he stood up to challenge the bourgeoisie, with the support of the noble class, the possibility of losing was minimal.

Once the big players entered the arena, small fry like them would be ignored. When the dust settled, the victors would not bother to settle scores with them.

Franz picked up the article and scanned it briefly. The more he read, the more familiar it felt. Wasn't this just a version of the "996" work system?

Ten hours of work per day, two hours total for meals and breaks, one day of paid leave per week, the government to set minimum wage standards, capitalists forbidden from arbitrarily deducting wages or firing employees without cause, and factories to take responsibility for workplace injuries.

Franz did not see anything wrong with this proposal. If the capitalists of the future Europe saw such standards, they would wake up laughing in their sleep.

Franz said with great responsibility, "Mr. Baunfeld, you have done nothing wrong in this matter. You don't need to worry about what comes next; I will find a way to handle it. The newspaper office is right next to the police station; I will have a word with them."

Hearing Franz's words, the heart that had been hanging in Baunfeld's throat finally settled. Since the boss was willing to step up, things would be easy to manage.

Capitalists were not fools. If it wasn't necessary, no one wanted to be the first bird to be shot. Perhaps Franz would be wary of the bourgeoisie as a whole, but dealing with one or two capitalists was no problem at all.

"Your Highness, should we continue reporting on this?" Baunfeld asked hesitantly.

"Of course you must continue, but be mindful of the intensity. Don't provoke the capitalists too much, so as to avoid unnecessary trouble," Franz thought for a moment and said.

Changing one's stance was the most inadvisable move. Since they had already offended the bourgeoisie, they might as well go all the way; at least they could gain the support of the common people.

To be double-faced would be the stupidest approach. Trying to please both sides would only result in pleasing neither.

Currently, they were not the only newspaper in Vienna supporting the Labor Protection Act. The conservatives had already begun to exert influence, and public opinion in Austria was generally sympathetic to the working class.

"Yes, Your Highness!" Baunfeld replied.

After dismissing Baunfeld, Franz began to consider the aftermath. Usually, if one wanted to suppress a topic, one had to create an even more explosive one.

What kind of topic could attract the attention of the bourgeoisie? Without a doubt, it was the currently trending Labor Protection Act.

For example: further compressing the ten-hour workday, or including the workers' meal and break times into the calculation?

Or perhaps increasing the penalties for workplace injuries, or even setting a minimum wage standard that would make the capitalists' hearts ache.

In short, as long as the Labor Protection Act finally enacted by the government went a step further than this proposal, everyone's focus would shift.

The possibility of the capitalists taking their anger out on the newspaper would also be minimized.

Thinking of this, Franz revealed a satisfied smile. The person to bear the brunt of the storm was already chosen. Now that Archduke Louis was representing the noble class in proposing the Labor Protection Act, Prime Minister Metternich could not afford to sit idle if he didn't want to be replaced.