August 28, 1798.
Vipava, a small town on the southwestern border of Austria.
Under a lush lime tree stood a small wooden table. Archduke Karl, wearing three medals, sat upright beside the table, writing in his war diary with a goose quill: Continuing the pre-war rest and recovery. The French likewise have made no maneuvers or undertaken any drills. A bland and dull day...
As he finished the last word, he suddenly heard urgent hoofbeats from the east, and a faint smile appeared on his solemn face.
It was a major officer who arrived.
He raised his hat in salute to Archduke Karl, then handed over a document and was just about to speak, when the latter beat him to it: "Is it a formal declaration of war?"
"Yes, Your Highness." The major stood at attention. "At nine o'clock this morning, His Majesty the Emperor signed the declaration of war."
"Address me as Commander. What about the logistics supplies I requested?"
"They have all been delivered to Klagenfurt Fortress, Commander."
