Graduation Exam (2)
The eternal feud between Britain and France—Europe's perennial troublemakers dragging the world's problems in their wake—naturally had a significant impact on Vienna as well.
Of course, thanks to the precautions we'd taken in advance, there was virtually no economic shock.
On the contrary, requests from merchants of both nations poured in endlessly, begging to conduct business through our ships via Austrian Netherlands, sparking a massive boom.
Moreover, with transatlantic trade destabilized, Mediterranean trade profits soared as well, allowing the Genoa principality—which I'd been backing—to stabilize its economy even faster.
It would be ideal to reap these juicy war profits and breakthrough the singularity with the steam engine in one go... but unfortunately, that was physically impossible.
"Our goal moving forward is to increase iron production. We need to churn out more iron itself to bring down boiler prices and lay rails."
"Your Highness, what do you intend to use the rails for?"
"To run trains, obviously."
"...Is a 'train' really worth pouring this much money and time into?"
"......"
Having to teach the technicians one by one, heading straight into uncharted territory, meant we needed an absurd amount of time.
Creating unknown technology to produce unknown machines required teaching far more than one or two things.
Compared to this, the training I'd given new hires at the lab in my previous life felt like child's play—it was that headache-inducing.
And it's not like just teaching them ends it?
Stabilizing coke smelting alone after tearing apart and rebuilding one would take at least a year.
Given the era's pure manual labor, digging earth at about 2m³ per day was the limit.
Even building waterwheel drills would take time, so crunching the numbers, it came out to seven years just for the first test run of a train.
And that's if I oversaw every single task from start to finish, maxing out efficiency like a tech tree obsessive.
Any distraction from other matters would push the schedule back by at least a year each time.
"...The plans are grand, but with manpower shortages and crude tools, there's nothing to be done."
Thus, a year just to make one new thing—when would we ever launch steamships to turn the Mediterranean into our inland sea?
To alleviate my worries even a little, Karl came rushing in and offered a disarmingly simple solution.
"So... basically, if you aren't personally overseeing things here, the work drags on endlessly?"
"Yeah. I've crunched the numbers using every trick in the book, and I can't shave off any more time. Unless I learn shadow clone jutsu and make ten copies of myself."
"Then there's no helping it. You'll just have to keep dumping work on Terezia... er, your wife."
"I originally framed it as 'just help lighten my load for a bit while I wrap this up quickly.' But now I'm thinking that 'a bit' might turn into forever."
Unlike in original history, the current Maria Theresa had no sense of mission or ambition to seize control of the realm's governance.
Her love for her children ran far deeper, and her relationships with those around her had improved dramatically.
To put it simply, she seemed much happier now.
So if possible, I wanted her to keep living this happy life—not the one from my previous life.
"...Your wife wants some easy rest?"
Karl's face clearly read, 'Why is this guy talking nonsense alone?'
No, I'm sorry, but come on—she's planning to have at least ten more kids!
"From what I see, your wife enjoys helping you lead the country together. Don't rob her of that joy under the pretense of concern."
I knew that. But there's a difference between sharing the burden and dumping it entirely—that's what nagged at me.
"If you think your wife's capabilities fall short, that's a valid worry. But if not, just hand it over. What's with the sudden fuss?"
"......"
"Seriously, you're the ultimate helicopter husband sometimes. In my eyes, your wife's already a domestic policy monster, and you're just babying her."
Babying? Anyone hearing that would think I was some doting fool of a husband.
But when Wilhelmine joined Karl in saying the same, I had to concede the point.
I wasn't overprotecting my wife; I was worrying about her health with scientific, rational thinking beyond this 18th-century era. But I couldn't argue against the logic that Maria Theresa—the iron-willed woman who'd resumed work the day after childbirth—didn't need such fretting.
In the end, I decided to test her capabilities one last time.
The criteria were simple.
Unlike before, I'd give her zero information, no guidance whatsoever, entrust her with the task, and observe the results.
She'd handled everything amazingly so far, but that was leveraging situations I'd set up.
This was like a graduation exam for my first protégé.
I'd orchestrated this war, so I had a rough idea of how to handle it, but this time, I wouldn't breathe a word.
I was a bit anxious about how she'd cope, but no pessimism crept in.
She was the Maria Theresa I loved, after all.
"...Pardon? His Highness Franz is too busy with other duties?"
"Yes."
Robinson, the one scrambling to find Franz not long after the war's outbreak, looked half-pale.
From Britain's perspective, the war's bewildering setbacks hadn't worried him much.
He figured that if he really wanted, he could import high-performance weapons from Franz anytime.
But what was this? Franz was dodging him with excuses of top-secret duties leaving no time to spare?
Just as doubts of being cut loose flickered—unlikely as it seemed—Maria Theresa smiled gently and shook her head.
"My husband's friendship toward you remains unchanged, Ambassador, so no need to worry. Surely you've heard that something like this might happen?"
"You mentioned an event that could shift our nation's direction. But even so, suffering a major defeat against France in this war is a bit..."
"Oh my, is the situation that dire?"
Damn, he thought—he'd let slip too soon, as specific reports hadn't arrived yet.
But it would be out soon enough, so what harm? Better to be frank, seek help openly, and build more trust.
"It's disastrous. In just three weeks, the New England militia was nearly annihilated by the French offensive. And in India, the Madras garrison pushed down unchecked, burning all the Calcutta customs warehouses."
"That's terrible."
"Completely unexpected. Who'd have thought the French would arm their colonial forces with Franz Rifles..."
"We're exporting them under exclusive supply contracts. Not just to France, but other nations too."
"...If they were available for export, why not tip us off? We'd have paid top dollar."
Reports of French forces armed with Franz Rifles had badly shaken Robinson's standing back home.
They'd mocked him for missing such crucial intel despite claiming to know the Habsburg court inside out—a damning, irrefutable critique.
"It hasn't been that long, and regrettably, your nation couldn't afford the price."
"...Pardon? What do you mean?"
"You don't think France just bought the rifles with money alone, do you? We wouldn't sell such overwhelmingly superior weapons for cash."
The obvious rebuttal drew a hollow chuckle from Robinson.
Right. Logically, exporting the secret weapon that could crush France in six weeks wouldn't be a mere cash transaction.
So what had France offered instead?
Something money couldn't buy... perhaps entire colonial concessions.
Then they'll gnash their teeth harder, clawing at the homeland to recoup what they sold to Austria?
Austria wouldn't reveal the deal, but even a child could infer it.
France was gripped by the gambler's fallacy: win big to pay off the debt.
"Your Highness, I know it's presumptuous, but... could you consider exporting Franz Rifles? If we win and seize some French colonies to sell to Austria, wouldn't that suffice as payment?"
"I'm sorry, but production is fully contracted out. Oh, but not to France this time. This batch goes to Prussia."
"Prussia..."
Painful not to get rifles, but at least no more to France—not total disaster.
No, not a single rifle should flow to France henceforth.
"Your Highness, then additional production..."
"Might this trouble your position, Ambassador?"
"I'd be lying if I said no impact..."
"Really? From my view, your nation scoring a great victory might harm your future standing."
In Britain, the pro-king faction led by Carteret pushed to crush France.
Pelham's faction, including Pitt, took an oddly passive stance, on the defensive.
"If we import rifles through you now, sure, short-term praise: 'Robinson's the man.' But in five years?"
"Well..."
Both sides agreed: for good Austria-Britain ties, Britain must drop its Hanover obsession.
But a massive win here would empower the pro-kings further, prioritizing Hanover—and clashing with Austria and Prussia.
As Robinson's face shifted, Maria Theresa smiled softly and nodded.
"You see? Losses in India or North America won't hurt you long-term. Sure, some will attack over the rifles, but if you act now—ensuring France gets no more new rifles afterward—you'll save face."
"...Thank you for your concern. But then Pelham the MP..."
"He's thinking the same. Probably advised by that sharp young MP, William Pitt, who came with you last time. He seemed exceptionally perceptive and capable."
"Even so, betting on our nation losing the war is too much."
"Lose? Perish the thought."
No matter France's land successes, the sea wasn't theirs.
Prolonged war meant no proper resupply, dragging endlessly.
If France truly won, they could recoup all losses—but why would Austria enable that?
France and Britain needed a war with no victor.
"Surely Pelham and Pitt foresaw even that..."
"Lancing rotten flesh hurts, but it's necessary. Don't worry—I'll ensure not a hair on your head is harmed."
What more could he say against that angelic smile?
Robinson merely repeated thanks, rising as if possessed.
Pitt—seemingly just young and ambitious—scheming this far was impressive, but Maria Theresa's insight ran deeper than expected.
He knew she was clever and thoughtful.
But piercing the grand game farther than he? Unimaginable.
Perhaps the lingering image of the cute girl trailing young Franz.
Suddenly, the waving Maria Theresa looked like someone new to Ambassador Robinson.