At the hunting grounds of the Vienna Palace, Franz's marksmanship remains as steady as ever.
Perhaps he loved life too much and couldn't bear to kill, which is why every time he fired his gun, the unlucky victims were the flowers and grass around him.
"Franz," a familiar voice rang out, "how many times have I told you, that's not how you use a gun! Can't you aim a little better?"
Undoubtedly, the speaker was Archduke Carl, as no one else would dare to be so unrestrained.
Franz argued confidently, "Hunting is, after all, a game, why take it so seriously?
The game has already diminished greatly; if we continue this havoc, it won't be long before they're extinct."
One must not lose face, and after many years of political grooming, Franz had long since mastered the art of remaining unfazed.
In no time at all, he found a suitable excuse. The hunting grounds of the Imperial Palace were small, so naturally, there weren't many wild animals.
