Chapter 118
Chapter 118
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 118
Chapter Title: Genoa Principality (2)
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With Franz's permission secured, Spinola sprang into action immediately, as if eager to prove his worth.
As he had anticipated, plenty of people in the Republic of Genoa balked at the idea of becoming the Principality of Genoa.
They argued that abandoning the proud tradition of republicanism to become lackeys of the Empire was unacceptable.
Those voicing such sentiments were mostly genuine patriots who took real pride in the republican system.
And if their opposition was forcibly suppressed, most of them would morph into die-hard independence fighters driven by conviction.
From my perspective, they were the kind who could become a real headache down the line.
That's precisely why I'd gone out of my way to speak glowingly of Spinola and bring him into the fold.
Once the Emperor's formal approval came down and the unconventional principality retaining its republican form was officially confirmed...
"Esteemed citizens! The republican system has been our pride and joy, the very heartbeat that has stirred our souls! As Doge of the Republic, I too yearned to represent you all and propel this nation forward!"
"The future lies with Austria! If we can't win, let's join them!"
"Shut your mouth! And you call yourselves citizens of the Republic?"
"Boooo! Spinola, you've sold out the Republic's spirit—step down!"
"Without Spinola, we wouldn't even have the republican framework left! Get your heads out of your asses, you clueless fools!"
Amid the fierce clash of public opinion...
"Citizens! I fully appreciate your devotion, your willingness to lay down your lives for the nation and the Republic. But do you know that the very nobles who propped up the Republic have been exploiting your loyalty for their own selfish gains?"
"...What?"
"Look here! These letters reveal Genoa's nobles begging to hand over the Republic in exchange for guarantees of their privileges! The same ones who preached total resistance and urged you to take pride in your citizenship—they were the first to sell out the nation for their own benefit!"
"Those crazy bastards!"
What they called a republic was, in truth, no different from an aristocratic oligarchy where noble families monopolized privileges, much like in Venice.
Of course the reaction would be explosive upon learning that those elites planned to use the citizens as cannon fodder while hiding safely in the rear.
"Proud republic, my ass—what a load of crap!"
"Screw 'em! If that's how it is, crawling under Austria's wing is better!"
"Exactly! Citizens, why did Genoa end up like this? A tiny elite hoarded wealth, abused power arbitrarily, and prioritized their interests over the nation's! And because of their foolish choice to side with France and antagonize Austria, we're in this mess!"
"Kill them! Kill them!"
"Death to the old nobles!"
"The moment I became Doge of Genoa, I confronted this ugly truth head-on. That's why I made the bold decision: give what must be given, but preserve Genoa's pride at all costs. Citizens! Who are the real traitors, and who are the patriots? Those who preached the Republic's spirit while scheming to save only themselves? Or I, Spinola, who negotiated to the bitter end with His Majesty the Emperor of Austria to safeguard the republican core? Who's the true patriot?!"
"Spinola! Spinola!"
With Franz's prior coordination, Spinola rode the wave of fervent support to proclaim the birth of the Principality of Genoa.
Mansions of the noble families that had long dominated Genoa went up in flames.
Key figures from the San Giorgio Bank were dragged into the streets one by one, their skulls cracked open by enraged citizens—or they fled abroad first.
Naturally, the vacancies were filled by the loyalists planted by Spinola from Wertheimer's camp.
Of course, overt infiltration by Jews would draw too much attention, so the official titles went to Genoese commoners.
Useless nobles who only held seats were swept away, commoners gained chances to rise to key posts, and the Republic's highest leader—the Doge—simply changed name to Prince, preserving its lineage.
It wasn't empty talk; from the citizens' viewpoint, nothing had worsened compared to before.
On top of that, Austrian capital flowed in, reviving the once-deserted port with bustling merchants and infusing new life into the city economy after years of stagnation.
"...Somehow, life feels better since joining the Empire. Am I the only one?"
"It's not just a feeling—it's fact. Damn incompetent nobles; turns out they were the real problem."
"Ptoo! Should've faced reality ages ago, sigh."
Under Spinola's leadership, Genoa's power structure swiftly reorganized into a pro-Austria faction.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The spectacle of Genoa naturally purging its old elites and pro-Austria forces seizing control became a hot topic among Vienna's nobility as well.
Principalities typically sought recognition of their independence and resisted imperial interference.
Yet both in the Balkans and Genoa, pro-Austria factions were monopolizing power in this bizarre turn—impossible to ignore.
This shift in sentiment naturally influenced the various dignitaries studying in Vienna.
And Karl Peter Ulrich, Duke of Holstein-Gottorp—the future Peter III—who had been studying at the Hofburg Palace for a few years now, had already become one of Franz's most ardent admirers.
"Your Highnesses, Theresa! I've arrived!"
"Oh, come in. How did today's lessons go?"
"Great! We studied history today, and I was struck by how Austria and Russia have been cooperating more lately. Being both German and Russian by blood, it hit me differently, I guess..."
"I see. Perhaps our Duke here could one day serve as a bridge to strengthen ties between Austria and Russia even further?"
Tea time with Theresa, Franz's wife—the woman Ulrich praised endlessly—was one of his favorite moments.
Now just twelve, Ulrich adored the eleven-years-older Theresa like a mother, and she cherished him like family in return.
He naturally played often with Franz and Theresa's eldest daughter, Elisabeth, which made him feel like part of their family and filled his heart with joy.
"But I don't think I can ever be as strong as Prince Franz. No matter how hard I study, the knowledge just doesn't stick in my head for long."
"Is that so? But Ulrich, do you really need to be that strong?"
"Of course! That's why I came to study—to become like His Majesty Friedrich or Prince Franz! My late father must have wanted me to grow into a strong man too."
"Is there a particular reason you want to be that strong?"
Meeting Theresa's gentle gaze, Ulrich shyly bowed his head and scratched it.
"If we'd been stronger... we wouldn't have been tossed around by the whims of neighboring powers."
"I understand. But if you truly care for your homeland, you must recognize its realistic limits. Even Franz, the man you admire, hid his talents quietly as heir to Lorraine, honing himself in the shadows."
"True... I suppose?"
"Yes. And you don't need to excel at everything. Franz delegates military matters to Joseph or Moritz, doesn't he? Even His Majesty Friedrich leaves internal affairs to his ministers. What matters for a leader is the eye for people."
Her voice brimmed with maternal warmth, as if soothing her own child.
"But discerning good people is a skill in itself. How do you cultivate that?"
"It comes with experience, I suppose. In that regard, our Duke is fortunate—Vienna is full of talented young men. Why not observe them and reflect on what sets the capable ones apart?"
How could anyone not love someone who always offered such kind words?
Ulrich, whose resolve had always been shaky, felt tears welling up today too, spilling his honest heart unbidden.
"It'd be amazing if Your Highness were my mother..."
"Oh?"
As Theresa blinked with a smile, he realized what he'd said and clapped a hand over his mouth in panic.
"Ah, no... sorry! That was improper..."
"Nonsense, no impropriety at all. Treat me like a mom—I'm comfortable with it. I've had three girls in a row; a boy would be lovely."
"Uh... y-yes. Th-then I'll be going..."
"Do come again tomorrow. Elisabeth enjoys playing with you lately, so it'd be wonderful if you could join her often."
"Yes! I'll come tomorrow too... Goodbye!"
Face red to his ears as he rushed out, Ulrich clawed at his hair recalling his blunder.
"Argh! You idiot, why say that out loud? 'Mom'? Keep that thought inside!"
What kind of pathetic stunt was a twelve-year-old boy pulling, telling a grand duchess in her early twenties he wished she were his mother?
If word reached Franz's ears, how pathetic would he seem?
"Sigh... At least she didn't seem upset. Good. Next time, I should bring a toy for Elisabeth to play with."
Still, being told to treat her like a mom meant it wasn't a total loss.
"If I had gifts for His Highness like Genoa did, I'd win even more favor. Tsk."
With nothing to offer, he'd have to hustle and scrounge something worthwhile.
Ulrich wanted to grow up fast.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I heard through the source herself that the future Peter III had blurted out, "Theresa is the kind of woman I wish were my mother."
"Heh, cute kid."
"Isn't he? Were you that pure and adorable at twelve?"
"Me at twelve? No clue—can't remember."
"You should recall something from that age, right? Feels like you're pretending not to."
As Franz Stefan at twelve, that's over eighty years ago—who remembers?
No joke; I genuinely recall nothing.
"Too much on my plate back then, I guess—memories faded. What'd you say to him?"
"Told him three girls in a row means a boy next wouldn't be bad."
"Don't overthink it. Feels like the next one's a boy."
"Sigh... Hope so. Three girls straight has me a bit self-conscious? They say keep going till a boy, but this is excessive."
"Why? I love having cute daughters piling up."
Theresa birthing three girls in a row solidified my belief that this world might have predestined fates.
And if a boy follows, it'll confirm it as fact.
The issue is she'd barely produce a son before popping out two more girls... No wonder her previous life was full of heartache.
Six kids, five girls?
We laugh it off now, but back then, even I'd have been uneasy.
"Anyway, Franz—if even Ulrich's paying attention, the Holy Roman Empire, nay, all Europe must be watching Genoa. You sure that's fine?"
"Of course. Better that way. Everyone witnesses a dying relic phoenix-like revival under Austria's wing."
"True. Great hook for pulling in Italian states. So Venice next year?"
"Yeah. A year gives Genoa time to reorganize its army plenty. Corsica? A token force crushes the rebels easy."
Till then, rebuild Genoa's trade networks, quash the Corsican revolt, solidify foundations.
"Oh, speaking of Corsica—did you bet with Karl?"
"Bet? What bet?"
"Wilhelmina mentioned it. Karl said if a real genius pops up in some backwater like Corsica, he'll raise the kid himself."
"Why's he digging his own grave without telling anyone?"
I'd worried the butterfly effect might nix Napoleon, but if he appears, here's the perfect pro-Austria pretext.
By then, as Emperor, fetching him myself risks favoritism backlash, but Karl discovering him looks clean, no issues.
Thanks, little bro—you're the only one who truly has my back.
In this smooth, steady flow, Theresa pulled a thick dossier from her desk and set it before me.
"While you were buried in Genoa affairs, something fishy cropped up. Looks like Saxony's Elector wants to fully integrate Poland and merge it with his own lands."
"What? Has Friedrich lost his mind? At this point, his genes are whispering to march on Poland..."
"Huh? Why bring up Friedrich?"
"...Eh?"
"The Elector of Saxony seems awfully desperate. He's pushing too hard."
Wait—what? Why isn't this Friedrich?
My brain short-circuited momentarily, struggling to process.