Chapter 116
Chapter 116
Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 116
Chapter Title: The World (3)
May 1740.
Republic of Genoa.
All thirty-two seats in the Salone (conference room) on the first floor of the Doge's Palace were filled from early morning.
"...I trust you've all received word and know what calamity has befallen us."
"I only caught the rough outline on my rushed way here. Doge, has Austria truly declared war on us? Why?"
The Doge was the nominal head of state in Genoa, elected for a two-year term. Currently, Niccolò Spinola held the position.
In addition to him, twelve members of the Grand Council, the eight former Doges forming the Procurators, three chief magistrates, and the protectors of the Bank of Saint George were in attendance at this emergency meeting—a gathering that was essentially a wartime cabinet.
Decisions made here could bypass most procedures and take immediate effect, which was tantamount to saying the situation was that dire.
"Pallavicini, you have your finger on the pulse of the Bank of Saint George's funds. Let me ask plainly: did Genoa fund France and Bavaria in the last war?"
"Well..."
"Austria's declaration of war claims we sponsored France and Bavaria to overthrow their regime. If that's true, it'll be hard to seek aid from our neighbors."
Though Spinola was the Doge, he'd been in office for less than three months.
The previous war had occurred under his predecessor, Costantino Balbi, but Balbi's health had deteriorated so severely that he couldn't even rise from bed, let alone attend the meeting.
"Doria, as our foreign affairs chief, what's your view? Can we request aid from Spain or Sardinia?"
"...Impossible."
"Not difficult—impossible?"
"Yes. Spain can't openly antagonize Austria right now, since Austria mediated their war with Britain. Sardinia's in an even worse spot—if they catch Austria's eye, their capital could be blown away again. They'll want to stay as quiet as possible."
"And with them holding the moral high ground, we're out of options. Our only hope is if they're spouting nonsense... Pallavicini. Did we really back France?"
Spinola was incredulous, but most of Genoa's nobility leaned pro-Spanish.
They felt a natural affinity for the Bourbon monarchy and the pressure of being potentially surrounded by Austria on all sides, so their choice wasn't entirely incomprehensible.
"It's true... The former Doge, the Balbi family controlling our financial networks, and Brignole Sale—who handled our French connections—led the funding."
"And you think I wouldn't have known?"
"It was done in utmost secrecy. The funds were first routed through the Dutch East India Company, then to the French East India Company. Impossible to trace!"
"Yet it was traced, and now we're in this mess!"
The room's air froze solid.
The Bank of Saint George representatives felt equally wronged, itching to jump out of their skins.
If Austria kept expanding, Genoa's survival odds would dwindle. Helping France land a blow was surely in the national interest.
They'd even layered in extra safeguards during the transfers.
Unless there was a traitor inside...
"...Could someone have tipped them off?"
"Are you saying there's a sellout handing Genoa to Austria?"
"How else could it leak so easily?"
"What in the world..."
Was there a traitor right here in this room?
Or had most already flipped to pro-Austria long ago, and everyone present was just dancing at a masked ball?
As dark suspicions swirled, the men eyed each other with growing distrust.
"N-now, enough! We're the ones who must unite to overcome this crisis—mutual suspicion won't help. Let's focus on countermeasures. If foreign aid's off the table, how about requesting mediation from the Papal States?"
"The current Pope only avoids overt pro-Austria talk because of the Uudoo Law. He'd probably blame us instead."
"Then... if we mobilize our full strength for defense... any chance of victory?"
Doge Spinola barely suppressed a hollow laugh as he spoke.
Fight?
Against a nation whose monstrous army had crushed France in six weeks?
And if supply lines stretched? Parma and Piacenza—right on Genoa's doorstep—were already Austria's.
No escape militarily, morally, or diplomatically.
Recognizing the danger was long overdue.
There was no nation in all Europe willing to help Genoa.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Karl gazed into the large mirror, meticulously adjusting his hair.
Wilhelmina fussed over his attire several times, and his beard was perfectly groomed. Flawless.
"Phew... The time has finally come to reveal the true face of Karl Alexander."
"Franz His Highness said to show your true face in the negotiations, remember? There's no fighting anyway—where's this true face supposed to shine?"
"Ahem! Darling, you have to boost your husband's spirit before he heads to the field. Stabbing me with facts like that leaves me embarrassed."
"That's to keep silly thoughts at bay. Franz His Highness specifically asked me to ensure you don't get carried away by the mood and do something stupid."
"Heavens, what do you take your cool-headed administrator Karl Alexander for?"
This Genoa expedition was nominally commanded by Karl Alexander, the blood brother of King of the Romans Franz.
Neither Josef nor Moritz led it to frame it as suppression, not war.
Austria merely sought fitting retribution against Genoa for inciting Bavaria and France to rebel.
No territorial ambitions or invasion lust involved.
Hence, Karl Alexander—a member of the imperial family—marched on Genoa.
Of course, Franz had slotted in capable officers handpicked by Josef and Moritz, just in case actual combat erupted (low odds).
If Genoa insisted on a fight, it was auto-hunt button press, quick nap, and they'd all be swept clean upon return.
"But darling, remember what I said last time? Brother insisted on annexing that island Corsica no matter what."
"To pressure Sardinia. Holding Corsica naturally extends influence over Sardinia and central-southern Italy."
"Yeah... makes sense. So that thing he said before was a joke after all."
"What'd he say?"
"Asked if I thought some genius like Prince Eugene or my brother-in-law who slaps cheeks would be born on Corsica. Said he'd watch with bated breath, but looks like it was a joke."
True to half-German blood, his jokes were painfully unfunny.
Karl couldn't say it outright to his German wife, but knowing his perfect brother lacked humor made him oddly cheerful.
Everyone needed flaws; perfection bred distance.
Wilhelmina tilted her head with a wry smile.
"Not very funny for a joke. Maybe there's profound meaning behind it?"
"Nah, none. Honestly, what are the odds of a strategic genius like my brother-in-law emerging from some backwater like Corsica?"
"None."
"Exactly. Brother was joking. If it happens, I'll be the kid's godfather and raise him myself. Hahaha, now that's sensible."
Wilhelmina just smiled along without retort, and Karl happily chatted away, enjoying wine with his beloved wife.
Wishing his dear, respected brother's abysmal sense of humor would improve, even a little.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The 18th century, when humanity's morality and mercy truly faced the test.
Blacks weren't people, so it was fine to capture and sell them wholesale—over 60,000 shipped from Africa to the New World under that logic.
To make money, you naturally squeezed slaves; their deaths were irrelevant as long as labor poured in.
Dead slave? Buy a fresh one from Africa. What's the problem? Peak humanism.
Prime example: France's Saint-Domingue.
France boasted massive sugar yield increases after declaring 18-hour workdays, patting themselves on the back.
Can humans survive 18-hour days? Obviously not.
Hence Saint-Domingue's average slave lifespan: about 7-8 years.
Even non-21st-century folk would mutter "that's too much," but one spell—"So, you won't eat sugar then?"—silenced everyone in the era.
Yet European nations could unite as true human rights champions.
When another nation expanded via war—not them.
"Your Highness Franz, Austria's declaration on Genoa..."
"With Austria expanding Adriatic and Mediterranean trade, nobles are anxious about a Genoa invasion."
"Genoa's actions were outrageous, but a cat's claws can't even scratch a lion's hide. If Austria acts with mercy..."
"A great power like Austria deploying troops will fill Italy's peninsula with daily fear and worry. If Your Highness could soothe their hearts..."
Well, well, look at these grand humanitarians.
The moment Austria declared it'd swallow Genoa, ambassadors from France, Spain, the Netherlands, and beyond swarmed to trip me up.
Of course, zero nations defended Genoa to pressure Austria.
No profit in antagonizing Austria for a faded has-been rich state.
"Ambassadors, I've gathered you all to clearly define this matter's nature."
"......"
"First, this is no invasion. Genoa funded France massively to help Bavaria topple imperial order—and we confirmed an agreement to hand northern Italy's interests to them upon success."
Louis XV's secret accord hit the table; ambassadors' eyes spun.
"France already paid: Alsace, massive reparations, Versailles coronation permission. Letting Genoa off scot-free? France wouldn't accept."
"But the power gap between France and Genoa..."
"Genoa gambled its fate. It lost. Time to pay the pot."
My unyielding stance made further sob stories tough.
As if they ever cared that much for Italian lives.
"I understand your concerns fully. Thus, I promise: Austria's action targets solely Genoa. No expansion for mere association."
"So no other French backers besides Genoa?"
"Minor mercenary brokers, but we're overlooking those."
"Just Genoa, no further..."
"We seek no major gains from Genoa. Proof: upon annexation, Genoa's tariffs halved for ten years."
Genoa might be faded, but its Ligurian Sea position was prime Mediterranean real estate.
With Austria's backing, it could thrive as a key trade hub.
"Tariffs halved for ten years? Ligurian stronghold?"
"Ahem... Austria's fury is justified."
"Indeed. An assault on the Holy Roman Empire's core."
"If you're doing it, don't get caught sloppy. Now pay the price."
See? Italian residents' war fears weren't worth half a tariff point.
Thus Britain, France, Netherlands, Spain consented; Genoa's fate sealed pre-war.
Of course, conditioned to Austria annexing only Genoa's lands.
But if Genoa—as an imperial estate—regained strength, what of Venice's future?
(The Empire duly recognized princes' independent military rights.)
As a 21st-century soul, I generously championed personal freedoms.
So generous, I'd overlook a powered-up Genoa impulsively slapping Venice around.