Karl and his party arrived in Sarajevo, but they couldn't begin their itinerary immediately. The reason was simple: the Crown Prince's car, loaded onto the train, had to be unloaded first. This procedural delay was unavoidable.
“Ahem.”
Archduke Franz Ferdinand cleared his throat softly and cast a reminding glance at Karl. Coming to the station to welcome them were not only the Mayor of Sarajevo but also the local police chief and officials, but Karl's mind was not on pleasantries at the moment.
All these arrangements were originally intended to save Franz Ferdinand's life, so why should he be in such a hurry and draw attention to himself?
“Your Highness, the vehicle is ready.”
Zdenko parked a car manufactured by Porsche in front of the station.
Since Karl was the primary owner of the Porsche Company, it was natural to prioritize using his own products when traveling. Although Porsche's engineers had not yet managed to build a tank prototype that completely satisfied him, in the sector of civilian luxury cars, the quality was already beyond reproach.
Perhaps precisely because of their long-term study of armor and complex mechanical structures, the vehicles produced by Porsche, without exception, provided an excellent ride.
Not only that, with the genius engineer Ferdinand Porsche as the chief designer, plus the top technical talent Karl had poached from companies like Daimler and Ledwinka, the overall level of Porsche's automotive technology truly lived up to the massive capital he had invested.
It was no accident that Porsche cars could sell well throughout the European upper class. Only such projects gave a sense of accomplishment when investing. In contrast, the development of tanks was still progressing slowly, which was regrettable.
“Your Highness, we can depart!”
The Sarajevo local government had prepared six protocol cars, and Karl's side had two, so a total of eight cars would proceed according to the previously announced route.
Their motorcade was sandwiched in the middle of the six local vehicles. The lead car was driven by a driver from the Imperial Guard, and it carried Archduke Franz Ferdinand, his wife Duchess Sophie, and the Governor of Bosnia, General Oskar Potiorek. The trailing car carried two Guards from the Imperial Guard, Zdenko, and Karl himself.
Although following the established route exactly kept a sense of unease lingering in Karl's heart, at least on the way to the City Hall, the 'history' he knew showed no abnormalities.
“Long live His Archduke Highness!”
“Long live Franz Ferdinand!”
Bosnia, which had only recently been officially incorporated into the empire, unexpectedly showed a quite enthusiastic welcoming scene.
Since the annexation in 1908, the Austro-Hungarian Empire's relative tolerance in administrative management and religious policy had indeed brought some tangible benefits to many locals, especially merchants, Catholics, and the Muslim community.
Even so, looking at the sparse security forces on both sides of the street, Karl couldn't help but sigh in his heart.
This Crown Prince truly valued being 'close to the people' and 'dignity' more than anything; there were almost no army soldiers to be seen along the way, and only about sixty local police officers were maintaining order.
Was the problem rooted in his own overconfident personality, or in the serious dereliction of duty by Governor Potiorek, who sat in the same car?
Even if Franz Ferdinand was reluctant to put on an air of facing a formidable enemy, for basic safety, more plainclothes officers or gendarmerie should have been deployed at key positions.
This nearly defenseless display was practically a provocation to all potential enemies: why not try an assassination?
Then, reality gave a response in the most direct way.
Boom—!
“Death to the tyrant!”
“Catch him—!”
“It's an assassin! There's a bomb!”
In the crowd, a young Serbian nationalist threw a grenade at the vehicle carrying Franz Ferdinand.
The situation was even more sudden and urgent than Karl had anticipated. The bomb arched through the air, flying accurately toward the open-top vehicle, but at the critical moment, Franz Ferdinand, sitting on the side, reacted extremely quickly, raising his arm to deflect the incoming bomb. The bomb's trajectory was altered, and it landed on the ground not far behind the vehicle and exploded.
The shockwave of the explosion even affected the car Karl was in, which was following closely behind; an accompanying guard was injured by flying debris.
It had actually reached such a dangerous level? The bomb had practically flown past him, and he still intended to continue to the City Hall to finish his speech as planned?
This wasn't fearlessness; it was clearly playing with his own life and the lives of others, almost as if begging the hidden assassins to try again.
“Catch him! Don't let him get away!”
“We must catch him! Alive!”
After the failed attempt, the assassin who threw the grenade swallowed a cyanide capsule and turned to jump into a river by the road called the Miljacka. But embarrassingly, the water depth of the river at the time was only about thirteen centimeters, not enough to drown anyone.
Logically, the cyanide should have been immediately fatal, but perhaps because the poison was old and had lost its potency, the assassin did not die instantly. Instead, he struggled in the shallow water and was quickly dragged out by the angry crowd and the police who arrived, receiving a beating.
Is assassination really as easy as it's portrayed in movies? Launching an attack in a crowded environment with only a pistol and a grenade is a mission with a slim chance of survival. Inexperienced operatives are bound to be caught on the spot, or even killed then and there.
And for those truly outstanding and experienced agents or killers, which organization would be willing to use them as disposable items? It's always more cost-effective to keep them close and cultivate them for long-term use.
Even Karl, as a member of the Austrian royalty with massive wealth, found it difficult to easily recruit suicide squads of this caliber, let alone a Serbian nationalist secret group with relatively limited resources.
Realizing that the danger had not been resolved, the motorcade immediately accelerated, no longer caring about the welcoming ceremonies along the way, and headed straight for the City Hall.
“Is Sarajevo's way of welcoming to greet the Imperial Crown Prince with a bomb?”
As soon as he entered the City Hall, Franz Ferdinand, shaken but furious, sternly rebuked the Mayor to his face.
But in the end, he relented under the gentle, low-voiced persuasion of his wife, Duchess Sophie, and did not take any more drastic actions.
“My dear, calm down, today is our special day.”
Karl's stubborn uncle had always been a gentle man who followed his wife's lead in private. Sophie was the beloved woman he had married only after overcoming numerous obstacles; her opinion was paramount to him.
Just as Sophie said, this day was their fourteenth wedding anniversary. On such a day, it was indeed inappropriate to show too much loss of composure in public, as it would damage the dignity of the royal family.
However, this uncle, who had just shown gentleness toward his wife, soon displayed the 'magnanimous' or rather stubborn side of his character due to another thought.