Holy Roman Empire

After Frederick’s engagement was settled, Franz quickly arranged marriage agreements for his other three sons. Since the children were still young, these engagements were only verbal, with formal ceremonies to be held in the future.

In this era, royal marriages were decided by the parents, with an emphasis on social parity. As long as both sets of parents reached an agreement, the match was essentially confirmed, with little input from the individuals involved.

Even asking for their opinions would be futile. After all, the oldest of them was barely in their teens, and the youngest was under ten. Asking them to weigh in on lifelong commitments would be unfair.

Seeing that Franz seemed less than enthusiastic, Empress Helene asked curiously, “What’s wrong? Are you worried about something?”

“Hmm… I’m wondering whether arranging engagements for the kids now is the right choice. If we choose the wrong people, will they blame us in the future?” Franz replied.

Helene burst out laughing, “Franz, you’re overthinking it! Every royal family member goes through this. How bad could it possibly turn out?

Blame us? For what? I personally asked for their opinions, and they all agreed to it. What, do they think they can go back on their word now?”

Looking at the Empress’s confident demeanor, Franz doubted his own eyes. He’d never noticed such an assertive side to Helene before.

As for “asking the children’s opinions,” Franz chose to ignore it entirely. Convincing a bunch of ten-year-olds isn’t exactly a challenge, is it?

With a sly grin, Franz deflected responsibility, saying, “Alright then. They chose their own wives, so they’ll have to take responsibility for their choices.”

That’s right, they did technically “choose” their own wives. During this period, the royal families of Britain, Belgium, and Montenegro all had multiple princesses, and royal marriages were more about family alliances than marrying any specific individual.

The British royal family had four princesses: three daughters of Edward and one daughter of Prince Alfred, who apparently was still an infant.

The Montenegrin royal family, led by Nicholas I, was even more prolific. Known as the “Father-in-Law of Europe,” he had six daughters—one of whom had died young—leaving five. The oldest was 13, while the youngest had just been weaned.

The Belgian royal family had fewer princesses. Leopold II had only one daughter, but his brother and cousins had two more.

At first glance, it seemed like there were many options. But in reality, the situation was far more constrained. Franz’s youngest son was already in his teens, so marrying a child still nursing was out of the question.

Once unsuitable matches were ruled out due to age, the pool of options quickly dwindled. To avoid embarrassment, the three boys swiftly agreed to Empress Helene’s suggestions.

These were minor concerns. Royal family members have little choice in marriage matters to begin with. The fact that their opinions were even symbolically consulted was already a significant gesture of respect.

With his sons’ futures settled, Franz turned his attention to a different issue: exposing the truth about “royal disease” to the world.

It felt ruthless to act so soon after forming new marriage alliances, and Franz himself found it distasteful. Yet, for the sake of protecting Europe’s royal families from the scourge of hemophilia, he resolved to sacrifice his own sense of propriety without hesitation.

…

Paris, after being transformed by Napoleon III, had become even more prosperous.

Following the accession of Napoleon IV, the French government was busy with internal power struggles, leaving little energy for innovation. As a result, the economic policies of the Napoleon III era were largely continued.

Although the French economy was increasingly leaning towards the financial sector, it remained generally healthy. Even after enduring an economic crisis, Paris maintained its bustling vibrancy.

In this international metropolis brimming with intellectual activity, newspapers had become an integral part of daily life. Most Parisians with even modest economic means had developed the habit of subscribing to newspapers.

Mark Paine was one such individual. After a simple breakfast, he habitually went to the newspaper stand to pick up his daily subscription.

The moment he glanced at the headline of the freshly delivered paper, his face turned pale.

The bold headline read: “The Royal Disease’s Culprit: Victoria’s Curse.” The shocking headline was matched by even more astonishing content within.

Without offering any editorial opinions, the article simply compiled all known cases of “royal disease,” identified a clear pattern, and concluded that all patients were descendants of Queen Victoria.

The piece included a detailed family tree of royal lineage, using facts to demonstrate the connection between every afflicted individual and Queen Victoria.

Faced with such compelling evidence, Mark Paine couldn’t help but believe it. Then, a wave of schadenfreude washed over him. Without a doubt, this revelation would spell serious trouble for the British royal family.

This could even trigger political ripple effects, as the European royals suffering from “royal disease” would likely harbor deep resentment toward the British.

Without the Franco-Prussian War, the French still regarded the British as their primary adversaries. As for Austria, it was perpetually dismissed in French newspapers as an insignificant defeated opponent.

The glories of the Napoleonic era had left the French brimming with arrogance. Newspapers, eager to boost sales, naturally avoided clashing with their readers’ sentiments.

Seeing a rival in trouble was certainly cause for delight. On his way to work, Mark Paine had already decided to share this “good news” with his colleagues.

He was not alone in this decision. Countless Parisians made the same choice, spreading the story like wildfire.

The article, “The Royal Disease’s Culprit: Victoria’s Curse,” rapidly circulated throughout Paris and began spreading to the rest of the world.

Meanwhile, after reaching an agreement with the French government to sever the France-Egypt trade route, British Ambassador Thatcher exited the French Foreign Ministry feeling triumphant.

But his mood was abruptly soured when he overheard people discussing “royal disease” and “Victoria’s Curse.”

Ambassador Thatcher immediately asked his aide, “What’s going on, William? What mischief are the French up to now?”

“Ambassador, something major has happened. The French Times published an article linking royal disease to Her Majesty the Queen.”

After speaking, William handed the newspaper featuring “The Royal Disease’s Culprit: Victoria’s Curse” to Ambassador Thatcher.

Glancing through the contents briefly, Ambassador Thatcher crumpled the paper into a ball and cursed, “Damn it! Those audacious French fools, they’ll fabricate anything!”

Several murderous glares shot his way. Realizing he might have spoken out of turn, Thatcher quickly decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He swallowed the rest of his words and ordered, “Back to the embassy!”

Deep down, Ambassador Thatcher had already accepted the article’s claims as truth. The detailed genealogical chart included in the piece was simply too convincing.

With his knowledge of international relations, Thatcher could confirm that the relationships listed in the chart were accurate and undeniable.

This meant the source of “royal disease” did indeed trace back to Queen Victoria. For the British, this revelation was a major blow.

In Europe’s deeply religious climate, failing to provide a scientific explanation for the disease’s origin could easily lead to it being labeled as a “curse.”

The consequences could be severe. A royal family under the shadow of a “curse” would inevitably suffer a decline in prestige, and there was even the possibility that the British government might face a new wave of internal political strife.

In addition to internal conflicts, the bigger challenge lies in external pressures. If someone with ill intentions steered the narrative toward conspiracy theories, it would only stir up more hatred and animosity.

Of course, such problems were for the British government to worry about. If Thatcher weren’t the British ambassador to France, he could simply sit back and watch the drama unfold without overthinking it.

Unfortunately, as the ambassador to France, and with the uproar igniting from French media, no amount of excuses or justifications could absolve him of responsibility.

If he couldn’t handle this issue appropriately, his political career might be at risk.

Upon returning to the embassy, Thatcher immediately reported the situation to the country, ensuring that he also sent a telegram to the Queen first.

When it came to matters involving the royal family, Thatcher had the political sense to act cautiously.

Queen Victoria, long removed from day-to-day governance, maintained minimal conflict with the government and still enjoyed immense prestige. Even if this incident caused some controversy, she would likely weather the storm.

Ultimately, the “royal disease” had primarily plagued European royal families and hadn’t directly impacted the lives of ordinary people. It posed no real threat to Queen Victoria’s position.

Labeling it as a “curse” might tarnish her reputation, but it was unlikely that the British public would believe a few sensationalized claims from the French and rise up to overthrow their monarch.

…

Not to mention the turmoil brewing in Queen Victoria’s mind, the British government was already in a state of panic. Prime Minister Benjamin was so furious that he overturned his desk in anger.

Foreign Secretary Edward declared righteously, “This is all part of an enemy conspiracy! We must not lose our composure. The royal disease is nothing more than a coincidence, we absolutely cannot accept such slander!”

Deny everything!

This was the only solution Edward could come up with. Otherwise, the British government would face major troubles, potentially triggering a new wave of political unrest that could force them out of office prematurely.

As royal authority had yet to significantly decline, it was still common in Europe for cabinets to take the blame and shoulder responsibility on behalf of the monarch.

After collecting his thoughts, Prime Minister Benjamin firmly declared, “Exactly! This is nothing but enemy slander. We must fight back. The government will immediately organize medical experts to explain the matter to the public.

The Foreign Office will lodge a strong protest with the French government, demanding that they prohibit such irresponsible claims to avoid damaging bilateral relations.”

Whether it was true or not didn’t matter. What the British government needed now was for it to be seen as false. They didn’t have to convince everyone, only enough of the British public to maintain stability.

As for other issues, Prime Minister Benjamin didn’t have the time to worry about them for now.