Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 032
Chapter Title: Protagonists of the Era
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There's no free lunch at a famous feast.
The war between Spain and the Great British Empire, which had kept all of Europe on edge, had ground to a complete stalemate.
"Damn it all! Why the hell isn't this medicine working?!"
Admiral Hosier, who commanded the British Empire's South American front with such glory, felt like he was going mad from the daily surge in fever cases.
"Didn't they say cinchona bark could cure local diseases? So why aren't the soldiers getting better?!"
"W-Well... we don't know, sir."
"Are we getting fake medicine? Did those Bayern bastards stab us in the back?"
"No, sir. Experts from the homeland already inspected it all, and they said there were no issues."
"Then there should be some improvement! Casualties are about to top two thousand!"
The British fleet had seized the fever medicine and triumphantly blockaded Panama, only to have yellow fever spread among them, rendering combat impossible.
They'd administered the trusted drug to the troops, but astonishingly, only a handful improved—most saw no effect at all.
Since the homeland had thoroughly vetted and shipped the medicine with no quality issues reported, only one conclusion remained.
Cinchona bark worked wonders on some fevers but failed utterly against others.
"Damn it... we can't fight like this."
"Admiral, sir, the number of sick soldiers is rising by the day. At this rate..."
"We lose a thousand men without a single enemy bullet, and now you're saying we retreat?"
"...We have no choice, sir. If we stay, we'll all be at risk."
The hesitant aide finally voiced his true thoughts, and even Admiral Hosier couldn't deny them.
Coldly speaking, they hadn't erred.
What could they do when the medicine proudly delivered from home proved useless?
But if the world ran purely on reason, wars wouldn't happen in the first place.
Hosier would bet his entire fortune that he'd be sacked the moment he returned home—and he could guess why.
-Failure to prevent the spread of fever due to lax unit management
"...Those Bayern fuckers. If they were gonna screw us, they shouldn't have sold us the damn stuff at all."
The admiral found himself resenting the Electorate of Bavaria for flooding Britain with the drug in bulk.
But honestly, they couldn't have known either, so blaming them was unfair.
They'd begged for the medicine, insisted on inspections, and gleefully handed over a fortune for it—all their doing.
"...Pouring that much gold into worthless medicine..."
They'd spent a fortune and gotten nothing in return. Could there be anything worse?
"My mood's already shit, and now these mosquito bastards are everywhere."
As if mocking their failure, swarms of mosquitoes buzzed annoyingly in their ears day after day.
Smack!
"These damn mosquitoes! Ugh, look at this—it's sucked me dry. See how the blood's bursting out?"
"These pests are making it impossible to sleep lately."
Unlikely as it was, he even wondered if the mosquitoes' irritation was worsening the troops' conditions.
"...Send a report to the homeland for now. The epidemic's too fierce, and the medicine... had no effect."
In the end, Admiral Hosier's British fleet, which had ambitiously blockaded Portobelo in Panama, lost four thousand men to yellow fever and slunk back to Europe in defeat.
But contrary to his fears, he wasn't sacked upon arrival.
Not because Parliament made a rational call.
Before even reaching Europe, Admiral Hosier himself succumbed to yellow fever, never to rise again.
Four thousand losses, including the top commander.
The British Empire deemed further fighting impossible after such devastating damage.
Meanwhile, as June dragged on, Spain realized sustaining the Gibraltar siege was untenable.
Compounded by the death of Britain's King and Elector of Hanover George I, followed by George II's ascension, both sides used it as an excuse to call a truce.
They entered negotiations to end the war while saving as much face as possible.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "So you're saying the war's likely over just like that?"
"This is insane! No, no way! I placed a massive order three days ago!"
"Who was it? The one who said it'd blow up bigger with Austria joining and France piling on?!"
When the two powers they'd expected to clash hard instead fizzled out so anticlimactically, merchants who'd hoarded supplies panicked.
Even without official peace, anyone could see the war was effectively done.
"We're screwed... bankrupt. I need to sell at least a third to cover the next payment..."
"We have to dump it fast! If we can't sell at these prices, we're finished!"
From London to Amsterdam, Lisbon, Hamburg—merchants across the continent wailed as their stockpiled war goods tanked.
Bankruptcies exploded, and auction houses saw prices drop to a third of pre-war levels without buyers.
Yet amid the despair, a glimmer of hope shone.
In ports everywhere, mysterious buyers offered to snap up everything at just a bit above the crashed prices.
"Really? For just thirty percent of original value...?"
"If not, no hard feelings. Everyone's desperate to unload. I can shop elsewhere."
"No, sold!"
Around the same time, in Amsterdam, a German-speaking stranger scooped up hundreds of crates of ammunition, gun barrels, and powder at auction fire-sale prices.
"Wait... you're really taking the whole remaining stock? Got some intel on the war restarting?"
"Why worry about that? If you're not selling, I'll look elsewhere."
"What? Please, take it all!"
These merchants popped up across Europe under different names and tongues, so no one suspected they moved under one man's orders.
And unlike Britain or the Netherlands, things unfolded differently in the Holy Roman Empire.
"Have no fear. The court won't abandon you merchants."
In Vienna, Franz Stefan von Lothringen invoked imperial prestige to buy up war supplies directly from struggling traders.
Prices were fair, not generous—but to those on bankruptcy's edge, it was salvation.
"Oh! Thank you! God bless House Habsburg-Lorraine!"
"They say His Highness Franz dipped into his own pockets because bankrupt merchants would cripple the economy... So grateful."
"From now on, I'm one with His Highness Franz. Anyone badmouthing him for his French blood insults my own parents...!"
The massive losses remained, but near-ruin and total ruin were worlds apart.
The war-supply frenzy subsided, but its ripples didn't end there.
In Amsterdam and Antwerp, the new Wertheimer trading insurance firm rapidly crushed rivals, claiming dominant market share.
"We're not like those gouging the old cartels. We use rational analysis to predict risks accurately and set fair premiums—promising symbiosis with all merchants."
Proof? While others hyped war risks sky-high, Wertheimer's rates were half theirs.
Still triple peacetime, but wartime norms—and merchants loved it.
One side raked in cash, the other stockpiled for future wars.
But few in Europe—or even the Empire—knew it all flowed one way.
Not even the agents buying supplies or selling insurance under Wolf's orders grasped the full picture.
Only two knew the decade-spanning vision.
Wolf Wertheimer... and the mastermind behind it all.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ June 1727.
After morning duties, I sat in my study, picking up a report stamped with the imperial seal for classified matters.
[New maritime insurance revenue and future business expansion: Assuming cooperation with Prussia on grains, timber, pitch, tar, and the like...]
Assets swelled at a terrifying pace.
We'd bought heaps of war goods, but at rock-bottom prices—and with money multiplying faster, it was a drop in the bucket.
As with all things, money snowballs faster with bigger seeds.
Financially entrenched, drawing more funds could make us Europe's richest in years.
But then every nation would watch Wertheimer like hawks.
No matter how we scattered proxies, a long tail gets stepped on eventually.
Meaning the day I'd have to step forward myself drew inexorably near.
Knock knock. "Your Highness, it's time."
Right on cue, the valet knocked. I snapped from my reverie, opened the door, and ushered in the guest with him.
"Captain Leopold Joseph of the cavalry, Your Highness. I rushed to Vienna hearing you'd recommended me."
"Must've been sudden—grateful you came so promptly."
I offered a seat, and Joseph sat ramrod straight, every inch the soldier.
As I'd told Eugene before, in my past life, he was Austria's finest general—cherished and respected by both me and Theresia.
Even modern takes said his strategic eye matched Frederick's, if tactical edge fell slightly short. Living then, I agreed.
Without my brother hamstringing him, if Joseph had commanded from the start in the Seven Years' War, history might've veered wildly different.
So this time, no past mistakes—I'd back Leopold Joseph fully.
But at early twenties, he lacked experience and polish; we'd supplement that.
Plus, excessive caution stalled bold decisions.
The downside of Daun-style overthinking every variable.
That's why pairing him with Eugene.
"You must know Prince Eugene rates our captain highly too. So I suggested outright training you as his successor by your side—he agreed readily."
"Father said learning under Prince Eugene is priceless. I'm deeply grateful, though surprised you'd know of me, Your Highness."
"Natural reaction. But I believe nurturing talent is key to national strength—so I urged His Majesty to found an officer academy. At my own expense."
"Ah... heard you bought out struggling merchants' war goods yourself. Ties into the academy, I see."
"...Something like that."
The timing aligned perfectly by chance—why not leverage it?
Joseph's eyes brimmed with awe and envy.
"Incredible, Your Highness. Even as mere betrothed, your loyalty to the court shines."
"Can't compare to soldiers risking life on the line. Beyond the academy, I'm eyeing institutes for new weapons and upgrading old ones."
Joseph brimmed with pride for his family's military legacy since his grandfather's day.
He'd shown it before in my past life, but facing his youthful fervor felt fresh.
"I understand why you summoned me, Your Highness. I'll give my all!"
"No pressure—if you need anything, speak up. I firmly believe young gems like you are our nation's hope."
Seen as Eugene's protégé, even young, Joseph could slot into high posts as his aide.
The more my finds shone, the more my influence grew—a virtuous cycle.
Prussia ties, the academy, unearthing hidden talents. Materials set; time to act.
George II, newly king after George I's death.
Louis XV, France's boy-king starting personal rule.
Friedrich of Prussia, set to grow mightier than in original history.
The Seven Years' War stars—and era's next leads—had taken center stage.
Now, my turn.