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Chapter 921: The Escape

"Father, Lieutenant Schwarz once said that some things simply must be done," Lukas said, looking at Baron Schérer with a solemn expression. "Why can't I be the one to do them?"

"But..."

The young man suddenly smiled and patted his father's back like an old friend. "Look, so many people are involved this time. As long as we can kick that fellow Thugut out of power, His Majesty the Emperor will surely grant us all a pardon."

Schérer remained silent for several seconds, then took a deep breath. "Lukas, your brother is dead. I received the notice of his death in action the week before last."

He looked at his son, his voice trembling. "I only have you left now. I'm begging you..."

Lukas froze, his eyes instantly turning blood-red.

The two stood there in a heavy silence for a long time until an officer in the distance shouted toward them, "Schérer! What are you doing? We have to move!"

"Coming!"

Lukas responded, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and turned back to his father.

He turned away quickly. "Go back now. I promise I will return safely."

"No..." Baron Schérer watched his son follow the group of recruits into the distance. He raised his hand to pull him back, but it felt as if an invisible force was pinning his feet to the ground.

It wasn't until he saw a group of sans-culottes approaching with flintlock muskets that he finally turned and hurried away, muttering under his breath, 'Dear God, please protect my Lukas, even if I have to trade my own life for his...'

He wandered aimlessly through the outer city for a while, encountering several instances where Hungarian soldiers were firing into the air to disperse crowds of protesters. Fortunately, luck was on his side, and no stray bullet found him.

Forty minutes later, he finally returned to the inner city. He could see his house from two blocks away.

The inner city was relatively peaceful, with only the occasional group of people marching through the streets carrying banners.

Baron Schérer knew this peace wouldn't last much longer.

He slapped his cheeks to steady himself and started walking toward his home. But as he turned a corner, he caught sight of a familiar back exiting a nearby inn.

'Count Graf?'

A sudden surge of fury boiled in Schérer's chest.

If this man hadn't demanded such an exorbitant bribe of three thousand Florins, Lukas might have already been transferred to Klagenfurt. How could his son have ended up in such a dangerous position otherwise?

He snatched a wooden club from the side of the road—protesters had left such things scattered everywhere lately—and quickened his pace to follow.

However, as he reached the entrance of the inn, he caught a glimpse of his wife standing on the inn's staircase.

He stiffened, and by some strange instinct, he ducked behind a linden tree.

A moment later, Mrs. Schérer walked out, her expression clearly uneasy.

Once she was far enough away, Baron Schérer entered the inn and pressed a Florin into the manager's hand. He gestured toward the door. "That woman who just left—was she with someone?"

"Yes, sir," the manager replied, pocketing the gold coin with an eager smile. "A rather stout gentleman."

"Wide mouth, protruding forehead, wearing a dark yellow coat?"

"Yes, yes, that's him. He and the lady shared a room..."

Half an hour later.

In the Schérer household, Mrs. Schérer was on her knees before her husband, weeping bitterly. She sobbed, "You know the estate in Trenheim Village was destroyed. We couldn't possibly raise three thousand Florins. I only wanted to save Lukas... Count Graf promised me that if I stayed with him for a few months, he would only charge us one thousand five hundred Florins..."

Baron Schérer buried his fingers deep into his hair, remaining silent for a long time before speaking in a low, hollow voice. "Lukas doesn't need to go to the front anymore."

"Really?" A flash of hope appeared in her eyes. "Did Count Graf help?"

"Of course not!" Schérer roared. He spun around, went to the wardrobe, opened it, and pulled a pistol from a hidden compartment. "It was the Hungarians."

He tucked the gun into his coat and slammed the door as he stormed out.

Mrs. Schérer scrambled to her feet and chased after him, but her husband had already vanished from sight.

Driven by rage, Baron Schérer walked two blocks before his mind began to cool.

Graf was a member of the Military Council. That place was crawling with guards, and even his private residence was well-protected.

'I can't kill him...'

His hands began to shake, and soon his entire body was trembling.

He felt like a failure. He couldn't protect either of his sons, and now he was powerless to even avenge the humiliation of his wife.

'Why should a failure like me even exist?'

Schérer suddenly pulled the pistol from his coat and shoved the barrel into his mouth. He pulled back the hammer and whispered a silent prayer, 'Please forgive me, Lord,' before squeezing the trigger.

Click.

A spark fell into the flash pan, but it failed to ignite the powder.

Schérer felt a wave of icy coldness wash over him, as if he had been standing naked in the dead of winter for hours. Then, a boundless sense of terror struck his mind like a physical blow.

Terrified, he threw the pistol aside. That thing had nearly swallowed his soul just now!

He gasped for air, and though the memories of his suffering and humiliation returned, he no longer had even a shred of courage left to seek death.

Half an hour later, a dazed Baron Schérer returned home. He locked himself in his study and did not emerge for two days.

At the same time Schérer had attempted to take his life, Emperor Franz II was in a similar state of despair within Schönbrunn Palace.

Hearing footsteps outside, he rushed to pull the door open. Seeing Baron Thugut, he immediately asked, "What is the situation outside?"

The latter bowed slightly. "Your Majesty, it has been confirmed. Seven recruit companies from the Royal German Legion's training camp have mutinied.

"They distributed the flintlock muskets from the armory to the rioters and attacked the Debrecen Regiment."

"I am asking you how the situation is now!"

"Well," Thugut hesitated, "four or five hundred Hungarian soldiers have been killed. General Grassalkovich has temporarily ordered the troops to withdraw from the outer city."

Franz II turned pale. "Then how many people are involved in the rebellion?"

"At least five or six thousand," Thugut reported. "Four thousand muskets were stolen from the training camp. More than seven hundred of the mutinous recruits are also involved."

"Will they attack the palace?"

"Not for the moment..."

"So they will later?"

"It... well, it cannot be ruled out that they might lose all reason."

Franz II immediately summoned several senior ministers to discuss a response.

By dusk, following the suggestion of Count von Hohendorf, the Emperor decided to leave the powder keg of Vienna for a while and head to Moravia to wait out the storm.

Two thousand soldiers from the Prague Guard were currently marching south; they could meet him in Brno, in the southern part of Moravia.