Chapter 115
Chapter 115
Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: World (2)
A few days after the lively banquet drew to a close.
Vienna, now emptied of its guests, swiftly regained its usual serene atmosphere.
Of course, the "usual" Vienna meant a city perpetually bustling with throngs of nobles.
To flesh out the discussions from the recent conference, I first summoned my younger brother Karl and Wertheimer.
"So, the infiltration into Italy is nearly complete?"
"Yes. Once Naples and Sicily open up, we'll dig in deep there and start building from the ground up, bit by bit."
"Excellent. So, in your view, what's the next step?"
Karl glanced at Wertheimer as if to say you explain, and he cautiously pointed to a corner of the map.
"After reviewing Your Highness's vision and discussing it among ourselves, we determined that the most urgent priority is securing Venice."
"Hmm."
"Austria's naval strength is practically nonexistent. Even if we want to expand maritime trade, the conditions just aren't there—our limitations are clear."
"True. Venice may have seen better days, but the experience and expertise they still hold would be a huge help."
In truth, Wolf Wertheimer—who had expanded aggressively from the Austrian Netherlands to the Austrian heartlands and northern Italy—constantly lamented how he envied Britain and the Netherlands.
If only he could run fleets of merchant ships like the Dutch, he'd be printing money. Instead, he was stuck begging, "Please, sirs in Britain and the Netherlands, grant us passage," always watching their moods. How frustrating that must be.
Of course, absorbing Venice wouldn't change things overnight.
If the Netherlands had declined from its golden age, Venice had plummeted far beyond that—right on the brink of the grave.
"What's the exact state of Venice right now? I asked you to investigate last time."
"I've compiled the figures for a quick overview."
The easiest way for the Austrian Navy to boost its power would actually be annexing the Netherlands.
But the problem was that even in decline, the Netherlands faithfully upheld the saying: "A rich man goes bankrupt over three generations."
Geographically and economically, they were too close to Britain, practically inviting aggro.
Just look at Britain's reaction the moment Friedrich moved on them—it was proof enough.
In that light, had Friedrich done us a massive favor?
He'd shown firsthand how unrealistic Dutch annexation really was.
Venice, though, was a different story entirely.
And not just any story.
"Let me see... Trade volume is down to 15% of what it was 200 years ago, shipbuilding capacity around 10%..."
It had shrunk to a state where even calling it a has-been felt generous.
"I knew it was in bad shape, but this is worse than I thought. Is this the fate of the queen of the eastern Mediterranean?"
"Yes. At its peak, it boasted over 3,000 merchant ships alone. Now? Barely around 350 active traders. Even the famed Venetian Arsenal is littered with unfinished hulls—the situation is dire."
A place that once churned out 100 galleys in two months at full tilt. What a shame.
"What about their navy?"
"Seven ships of the line and a handful of galleys. That's it."
Still better than Austria's three ships of the line. Should I cry or laugh?
With its bases in the eastern Mediterranean and Adriatic, Venice was doomed to fade in an era where the Atlantic's importance dominated.
Throw in competition with the Ottoman Empire stifling its Mediterranean trade, and its downfall was inevitable.
Which made it perfect for Austria to nibble away slowly and swallow whole without raising alarms.
A once-mighty power fades to irrelevance and gets absorbed by a neighboring great power.
Just a simple tale like that—no one would bat an eye.
"Now, let's discuss the key point. How do we swallow Venice whole?"
"We have a mutual defense pact in place, so military pressure isn't ideal. It could give other powers an excuse to intervene."
"Right?"
"Venice styles itself a republic, but in reality, it's an aristocratic oligarchy. Economically infiltrating and packing the Grand Council and Council of Ten with as many pro-Austrians as possible seems the way to go."
Wertheimer laid out the textbook method for absorbing a city-state, but Karl, who'd been quiet, chimed in.
"But that's not enough on its own. It'd take too long. We need something decisive to sway public opinion there. Honestly, I have no idea what. Is it even possible?"
My brother always sharpened up outside the battlefield. A solid point, convincingly made.
Logically, even a faded power wouldn't be gobbled up easily—or Italy would have no city-states left by now.
A clean annexation was impossible. Not in a straight Austria-Venice matchup, anyway.
I was about to share the first chapter of my prepared Venice annexation plan when—
Thud! Thud!
"Your Highness! Urgent news!"
"Bro, I'll handle this. Keep talking with Wertheimer."
Karl stepped out, returning in under thirty seconds—face ashen as dirt.
"...Let's table Venice for now. We need to go. Right away."
"Go? Where?"
"Lorraine."
Karl, half out of his mind, added with trembling lips:
"Father... has passed."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Over the past decades, Your Highness raised Lorraine from the ruins of war. Rooted in faith and justice, he cared for his subjects not with the whip of taxes, but with love and mercy. We remember his compassion, temperance, and courage."
I'd rushed from Vienna to Lorraine, where Father's casket awaited me and Karl.
"Dear sons and daughters of Lorraine, our mourning does not end in tears. The greatest tribute we can offer Duke—our regent—is to comfort one another and carry on the faith and freedom he fought to protect. As the deep night passes and dawn's bells toll once more, his legacy will linger steadfast over Lorraine's fields and rivers, unshaken like the morning mist."
The casket was laid to rest in the Cordeliers Church, the ducal family's mausoleum.
Though her time as regent had been brief, Mother approached with forced brightness, gently patting my shoulder.
"Father passed peacefully."
"...Wasn't it from a fever?"
"Yes. But before it worsened, he fell asleep and went gently into the Lord's embrace. He'd already lived the full span God granted him, I suppose."
Historically, Father died in 1729—so over eleven years longer than his original timeline.
But honestly? I thought if he just skipped hunting, he'd last another decade or two.
No real basis for it, but removing his past cause of death, I figured he'd keep going till old age.
"If I'd known, I should've visited Lorraine more often... I'm a poor son who wasn't at his bedside."
"Nonsense, unfilial? Where's a better son than you? Father talked of nothing but you, gave up his beloved hunts just to follow your exploits."
After the funeral rites, Mother led me and Karl to Father's study.
The moment I stepped into the spacious room, tears welled up unbidden.
It was nothing like I remembered.
Louis XV's writ acknowledging Lorraine's permanent incorporation as an imperial fief.
And walls plastered floor-to-ceiling with newspaper clippings boasting and promoting the House's achievements.
"He collected all this?"
"Of course. And not by servants, mind you—Father and I cut and pasted them ourselves."
"You could've had someone else do it..."
"While memorizing every word. When you were elected King of Germany, we wanted to come to Paris ourselves. But it might've seemed too showy, and as French royalty, we didn't want to provoke."
I listened to Mother for a good while.
Then Karl, eyes bloodshot from scanning the articles, bowed his head deeply.
"I should've visited the homeland more... Forgive me. I'll convince my wife and—"
"What are you saying? Why come back here when you're doing great things in Vienna? Better to churn out enough feats to fill this manor."
"......"
"We talked often, your father and I. At first, I feared you'd gone mad over women and sell off the duchy. Wrong of me. He said our house would rise higher thanks to you—he was always proud. Even said he'd hand you the ducal seat anytime if you wanted."
I didn't care about the Lorraine dukedom... If only he'd lived long enough to see me crowned Holy Roman Emperor, basking as the Emperor's father-in-law.
"Will you stay here then, Mother?"
"Of course. Our house is popular here. Tying you or Karl down would be a national loss."
"Just appoint a trustworthy regent and audit regularly. Now that things are settled, come to Hofburg. Watch the grandkids play, enjoy Vienna's cultured life."
"I'm fine. With husband resting here, going alone to Vienna feels too lonely."
My heart wasn't at ease, but if that's what she wanted...
I completed the rites, formally took the ducal titles of Lorraine and Bar, and named Mother regent.
As she said, Father—known as the Good Duke—had ruled so benevolently that he was beloved by the people. No worries there.
By noble standards, he was overly merciful, leaving finances middling at best. But no real issue.
Iron ore demand would soon explode like mad, and Lorraine was prime for exporting it.
"Karl, knowing our parents decorated with our feats as their life's joy—what's that feel like?"
"Well... makes me want to work even harder."
"Right? Me too."
No way Mother was coming to Vienna, so the filial thing was piling on headlines to keep her entertained.
I tore my eyes from the grand banner at the palace gate: "Lorraine's Pride: Election of King of Germany Franz Stefan."
And turned to my brother.
"Karl, you've always dreamed of the battlefield, haven't you? No real fighting, but want the thrill?"
"Huh? What're you on about?"
"Time to launch the Venice annexation plan. Right now."
"...What? Crush them with the army? You said that's the worst option."
Silly brother. Obviously, we can't just Anschluss Venice.
But when did I say anything about sending troops to Venice?
"Troops go elsewhere. No pretext to devour Venice? Make them crawl to us."
"...Not following. What does that have to do with troops?"
"Northern Italy had more than one faded maritime power back in the day, right? Another one."
"Genoa?"
"Yep. That Genoa secretly funded France in the last war. Got the proof already."
From Genoa's view, a French win would weaken Austrian sway in northern Italy. Shame Louis XV wasn't loyal enough to shield them.
Dangle some new rifles, and he handed over all the intel, squeaky clean.
"Pressure Genoa into a protectorate. Squeeze out every useful tech and secret they have. Can you do it?"
"Of course. Just say the word!"
"Oh, and one more. If possible, snag this for sure."
I pointed to the large island north of Sardinia, off Italy's western coast.
Corsica. Essential insurance for the future.