War, court, and lap pillows: Austria's destiny.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has long since dissipated, but the Vienna System, which once brought peace to Europe, is now riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly tranquil surface of peace lies a swirling vortex of undercurrents—the calm before the storm. The air is thick with the mist of evaporating sweat, and choking black smoke makes it difficult to breathe. At an elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits jostle one another, feasting upon the grand banquet known as the world. A self-portrait by Van Gogh hangs on the wall, and waltzes linger in the ears. Suddenly, the music shifts into a march, and the scene cuts to the battlefield: soldiers marching in disciplined ranks toward machine guns and barbed wire. A shell strikes the ground, and as the smoke clears, countless cavalrymen charge toward the artillery positions. Accompanied by a deafening roar, a wooden airplane skims low across the ground before pulling up sharply, piercing through the clouds into a burst of radiant light.