Pressed by Charles's impatience, Laszlo soon ordered preparations for a wedding in Innsbruck and sent invitations to a host of Imperial Princes, hoping they would attend the Crown Prince's nuptials.
Most princes—whether out of friendship with the Emperor or respect for his power and rule—accepted, coming in person or sending representatives with gifts to celebrate the marriage of the Emperor's eldest son.
As expected, many princes of the Low Countries and Rhineland angrily refused the Emperor's invitation.
Though they had yet to learn of the astonishing "Crown Deal" struck between Emperor and Charles, the very thought of a Habsburg–Burgundy union sounded to them like a death knell.
Already skeptical that the Emperor could protect the Empire's west, they now let agitators push that doubt to its height.
Politically astute observers quickly sensed the alliance was hardly as simple as it seemed.
Still, before anything was made public, the mood among the guests remained cordial.
The guests first congratulated the Emperor—both for defeating the Ottomans and retaking Constantinople, and for his son's wedding.
As an Emperor duly crowned by the Pope in Rome, tradition granted him the right to name his heir King of the Romans.
Once the Prince-Electors endorsed the choice, Laszlo's death would trigger no new election; the designated heir would simply take the throne.
More than one strong Emperor who controlled the Empire's politics had done likewise; this Laszlo would probably be no exception.
He had now secured for his eldest a match envied by every eligible noble in Europe—union with the Duke of Burgundy's only daughter—while condemning his second son to wed the daughter of Naples's bastard king. Who stood higher in his favor was obvious to anyone with eyes.
Thus, the future imperial designate needed no further announcement.
At the wedding many princes and guests, after paying respects to the Emperor, hurried to curry favor with Christopher; yet apart from the great lords Laszlo personally introduced, few left any mark on the young prince.
Under the hand of the Imperial Councillor Salzburg Archbishop, the bewildered children Christopher and Mary were hurried into matrimony.
The guests cared little for a union between two toddlers, but with Emperor and Duke of Burgundy standing side by side they offered the couple sincere good wishes.
After the lavish banquet both families and several eminent guests were escorted to the bridal chamber to witness the wedding night.
Years earlier Laszlo, emboldened by wine, had ejected the onlookers and preserved his privacy; Christopher clearly lacked such nerve.
His father, father-in-law, and several Electors stared at him unblinking—a crushing pressure for a boy.
Fortunately Laszlo and Charles had already agreed they could hardly expect two hairless brats to perform before an audience.
In the end Christopher and Mary, still in their day clothes, lay hand-in-hand on the bed for a few blushing minutes before their mothers led them away to separate rooms.
Those minutes counted as consummation and spared the watchers further awkwardness.
Though England boasted a countess who bore a child at thirteen, neither Charles nor Laszlo wished such a fate on Mary.
Laszlo knew exactly who that famed countess was.
Lady Margaret Beaufort, mother of the first Tudor king Henry VII and a victor of the Wars of the Roses, had nearly died giving birth as a child and was left permanently barren.
They said her groom had been twice her age and kin to boot.
Laszlo, schooled in chivalry, was appalled that a man had acted out his lolita fancy and produced a child.
Within a year the man lay dead in England's dynastic bloodletting—poetic justice.
Mary was luckier than Marie: though thrust early into marriage by politics, she need not rush into motherhood.
Yet she would now live apart from her parents with the boy she had just wed.
After the ceremony three days of feasting followed, and Laszlo seized the interval to convene a small court diet in Innsbruck.
Few attended, yet those few held the Empire's reins.
At the long table Laszlo's gaze swept over the Electors or their envoys, then over Charles quivering at his left. He cleared his throat and drew every eye.
"A good turnout today. Save for the absent Elector of Saxony and the unwilling Archbishop of Cologne, all Electors are here in person."
"I thank you first for your support; your role in governing the Empire is beyond dispute."
"Therefore I shall today announce a decision."
Laszlo paused, studying the room.
The Archbishop of Trier, already in the know, remained impassive; the rest looked to the Emperor in curiosity.
Since the founding of the Imperial Diet, a mere Court Assembly held no legal force—unless it were a formal Electoral Diet, which was another matter.
Though not an Electoral Diet, five of the seven Electors had come; the Elector of Saxony had sent his brother the Duke of Saxony to convey wedding greetings, so Albrecht of Saxony now sat in the Elector's chair.
The Archbishop of Cologne stayed away for reasons everyone understood, yet the "foreign" Duke of Burgundy occupied that vacant seat without objection from the Emperor.
Clearly today's business would be no routine affair; it might convulse the Empire.
And so it did: the Emperor's next words left several Electors stunned.
"I hereby create the Duke of Burgundy Charles King of Burgundy; all his broad domains shall be deemed imperial land, and he shall stand as a prince of the Empire."
"Your Majesty, this is ill advised," Archbishop Adolf II of Mainz objected first, unusually quick off the mark. "The duke is, after all, a cadet of the French royal house; admitting his lands will surely mean war between France and the Empire…"
There was no other way. The secular Electors were all far away, and the closest to Burgundy were these ecclesiastical Electors. The Archbishop of Cologne had stayed away in a fit of pique, the Archbishop of Trier looked as if he had already struck a deal with the Duke of Burgundy, and yet he, for the sake of the Rhineland Electorate's safety, had to step forward and confront the Emperor who had raised him to his seat.
If he had any choice, he would never have done something so unwise. Because of the Emperor, he had also been rather restrained when questioning Charles.
Originally, he had not even intended to bring up Charles's Valois bloodline; on the mere record of the last Dukes of Burgundy, one could only call them fiercely ambitious.
To let such rapacious Burgundians into the Empire and then crown them King—he feared they would swallow every prince on the left bank of the Rhine in one gulp.
Even if, in the short term, the Emperor could curb the Duke of Burgundy's ambition and force him to obey Imperial law, would Austria never see a day of decline?
By that time, every prince near Burgundy—be they the highborn Electors or the petty lords with narrow domains—would likely become the Duke's dish to savor.
"What? Does Archbishop Adolf think I cannot defeat Louis XI?" Laszlo had not yet spoken when Charles lost patience. "Without His Majesty lifting a finger, I can lead the Burgundian host and crush Louis XI and his feeble army with ease.
Were it not for that man's treachery and perfidy, he would have bowed beneath my might long ago.
The glory of Burgundy has long eclipsed France; please do not lump me together with that scoundrel Louis XI."
More than thirty years ago, the Treaty of Arras granted Burgundy independence; thus my wish to join the Empire has nothing to do with the King of France."
"Yet Louis XI will not see it that way. He will call it betrayal and unleash a terrible war—one that may even spill over onto us."
As for defeating France, forgive me, but I fear you lack the strength."
Adolf voiced his worries while keeping his eyes fixed on the unruffled Emperor at Charles's side.
He cared nothing for whether the King of France would start a war against the Empire; if it came to that, the Emperor would surely act.
What the Archbishop feared most right now was Charles himself—an impetuous hothead bristling with ambition.
"What do you mean!" Charles started to rise in anger, but Laszlo caught his arm.
"Enough. I understand the concerns of the Archbishop of Mainz," Laszlo said slowly. "When the Duke of Burgundy is elevated as king and joins the Empire, he will strictly obey every Imperial law.
I shall oversee this personally. Princes near Burgundy may also help. Any breach of Imperial law will be punished by my own hand."
Henceforth, let no one fear threats along the Empire's western border: Burgundy will turn back every danger that France may bring."
"But, Your Majesty, you can guarantee the Burgundians will obey only while you live—what of the day after?"
After that, who Burgundy belongs to may be anyone's guess!
Laszlo could hardly answer that way. With full confidence he declared, "As long as I live, Imperial law will be enforced; none may defy it.
As for later days, Archbishop, leave those worries to our heirs."
Long ago Laszlo had seen through Archbishop Adolf's true nature and knew exactly what he wanted.
He simply feared that Charles's entry into the Empire might erode his own power and perhaps even threaten the lands of Mainz.
Frankly, such worries were needless. After Laszlo's assurance, Adolf no longer resisted.
Calming himself, Adolf regretted his earlier knee-jerk outburst.
He was under the Emperor's protection; why worry about the Duke of Burgundy? And he had only a few years to live—why trouble himself with matters so remote?
In recent years the Emperor had entrusted him with greater authority in Imperial affairs, making him somewhat lose his sense of proportion.
Just now the Emperor had given him a look laden with meaning, and Archbishop Adolf II's mind instantly cleared.
With the Archbishop of Mainz persuaded, the remaining attendees quickly voiced their assent.
The newly invested Elector of Brandenburg, Albrecht "the Achilles," was still puzzling over how to handle his relationship with the Emperor. Seizing this chance, he endorsed the Imperial decision to curry favor.
After all, the Duke of Burgundy lay far to the Empire's west, while his own lands stretched through the midlands and northeast—utterly unrelated—so he had no cause to object.
Duke Albrecht of Saxony had earlier led Imperial armies eastward with the Emperor, reaping rich booty, rewards, and honors; he was now the Emperor's loyal supporter.
The Elector of Bavaria, soon to be the Emperor's son-in-law, naturally voiced no opposition either.
Yet this gathering lacked the customary Electoral vote; Laszlo was simply informing them. Whether the Electors agreed or not, he would bestow on Charles the title of King of Burgundy.
The days-long feast ended. Within those few days Laszlo spent tens of thousands of florins, but the expense was worthwhile: Burgundy's dowry had already begun arriving in Austria. Part was set aside for the young couple; the rest filled Laszlo's private coffers.
Afterward, Laszlo, Charles, and the Archbishop of Trier journeyed north along the Rhine and held a notably hasty coronation in Trier.
Charles had just paid out a huge sum for his daughter's dowry, so the ceremony proved far more modest than expected—yet everyone who mattered still attended.
The Archbishop of Mainz declared he would crown only Kings of Germany and thus refused Charles's request; nearly every Rhineland prince invited likewise stayed away.
Surrounded by his Burgundian nobles, Charles knelt before the Emperor, offered up the banner of Burgundy, swore fealty, and was created King of Burgundy.
Following tradition, Charles finally set upon his head the costly crown he had commissioned: a golden circlet surmounted with fleurs-de-lis and set with gems of every hue. Though it could not rival the Imperial crown, it far outshone the reused Iron Crown of Lombardy and the German Silver Crown in splendor.
From its style alone, one might easily mistake its wearer for the King of France. Laszlo suspected the crown betrayed Charles's unspoken ambition—he still coveted the throne of France.
Yet from this day forth he would no longer be a rebellious vassal but a king equal in rank to the King of France.
Though the King of France forever claimed equality with the Emperor, Laszlo's creation of a King of Burgundy felt like a deliberate taunt aimed at the presumptuous Louis XI.
This coronation will surely unleash a storm across Western Europe; even Imperial Princes who once ignored Imperial affairs now watched events unfold with keen interest.