Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 042
Chapter Title: Return (2)
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It's common knowledge that when a war drags on, all neighboring countries suffer the consequences.
Especially for the nations bordering the Atlantic in the 18th century, entangled in complex interests, any blockade of the Atlantic trade routes was a catastrophic blow.
Spain and Britain.
With the two top players in Atlantic trade at war, it was only natural that countries like the Netherlands were thrown into panic.
They desperately tried to mediate between the two sides, hoping for a swift end to the conflict.
Spain might listen, but Britain wasn't the type to heed foreign pleas outright.
The Netherlands initially made some efforts to halt the war, but seeing no results, they turned to the only nation capable of checking Britain: France.
"Aren't you lot shipping boatloads of those darkies to the New World anyway? An unstable Atlantic trade route hurts us all immensely."
Just as they said, with the war at a stalemate, France was racking up astronomical losses.
Merchant ships had to pay sky-high insurance fees every time they set sail, slave sales via the triangular trade were disrupted, and tax revenues were nowhere near previous levels.
On top of that, unstable sugar supplies from the New World had the nobles complaining nonstop.
Unable to ignore the economic slump any longer, the young King Louis XV took matters into his own hands.
"Cardinal Fleury? How are the preparations for the conference coming along?"
"Yes! We've already notified Britain and Spain, along with the Netherlands and Austria. They're probably just saving face by not responding outright, but deep down, they must be hoping we'll push this hard."
"I see. If the Netherlands or France tried mediating alone, it might look like we're bowing to them. Pressuring as a coalition makes it easier for them to swallow their pride, right?"
"Exactly. That way, they'll pretend they have no choice but to come to the table. Of course, we need to make it crystal clear that France is the one orchestrating this mediation."
The venue for the negotiations had already been set: Soissons.
If they could decisively end the Anglo-Spanish war there, France's international prestige would soar once more.
"And yet, Austria's von Kaunitz is aligning with us on this."
"Austria's stake in Atlantic trade has been growing lately, so they had no choice."
The old Habsburg court would have sabotaged any event that let the French royal family shine, but money trumped grudges, it seemed.
Louis XV chuckled and leaned back in his plush chair.
"Well, if this goes off without a hitch, the nobles' grumbling should die down. Such a lack of dignity, really."
"Sugar flowing in from the Atlantic and blacks shipped out to Africa are massive pillars of our economy now. If that's shaken, even the nobles can't help but feel the pinch."
"Isn't it ridiculous? They whine the moment trade in those darkies and the sugar whipped out of them grinds to a halt."
At the king's cynical remark, Cardinal Fleury lowered his eyes in silence.
Even as prime minister, he was still a Catholic bishop and cardinal.
Though it was doctrine that blacks weren't fully human like whites, was it right to treat living beings capable of perception and emotion that way?
He couldn't answer such a question with a clear conscience.
"International politics is all flowery words masking a world of might makes right, anyway. Spain's weaker than Britain, so they lost Gibraltar and never got it back. We're strong, so we get to play mediator."
"That's the essence of it, but relying solely on power will just breed enemies. Your Majesty must become a sovereign who claims both strength and legitimacy."
"I'll keep that in mind. To that end, could you attend the conference in person? If the prime minister shows up, Britain and Spain will take it more seriously."
"If that's Your Majesty's wish, gladly."
France's intelligence pegged Britain's representative as Horatio Walpole, brother to Prime Minister Robert Walpole.
The Netherlands and Spain were expected to send equivalents, but Austria remained a question mark.
Mention of Austria brought a certain name, growing in rumors lately, to the king's mind.
"Any chance François Étienne—that is, Franz Stefan—might show at Soissons? I hear he just returned from Berlin."
"As a privy councilor, he more than qualifies as an envoy. However, our agents assess the likelihood as extremely low."
"Oh? Why's that?"
"François's position is a bit unique. He's the next emperor in name, but really just a son-in-law. He's already been too exposed externally. The Habsburgs won't want his influence growing further."
As head of the Bourbon dynasty—the royal house locked in centuries of rivalry with the Habsburgs—Louis XV grasped Fleury's analysis immediately.
"Makes sense. Those prideful lot wouldn't hand their entire house to some outsider rolling in."
"Indeed. That's why all the credit for the recent Berlin Treaty between Austria and Prussia went to Secretary of State Bartenstein. The court deliberately downplayed François's contributions."
"Got it. Poor guy's had a rough ride. If he'd come to our side, I could've made him my right-hand man and put those talents to use."
Wielding power as a favored duke under the French king beat being a figurehead emperor crushed under skirts, didn't it?
No matter how personalities differed, Louis XV couldn't fathom François's choices.
He'd half-hoped to meet him in Soissons if he came, but slim odds meant disappointment.
"By the way, when will Vienna's intelligence network be back to full strength? We need ongoing contact with François to lure Lorraine our way, don't we?"
"Yes, on that front..."
Their discussion stretched on endlessly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Your Highness! Please, just help me one more time!"
I sipped my coffee, savoring the snack alongside the wail of my uninvited early-morning guest in the study.
Was this really the same dignified Ambassador Robinson from before?
Truly, one only shows their true face when backed into a corner.
"What's wrong? Was the intel I gave you no good?"
"No! The homeland raved about it. But they think it's a waste to scrap my talents now, so if I pull off one last task, they'll let me keep my post."
"Good for you. What's the task?"
"Well... With the Soissons conference in France wrapping up the Anglo-Spanish war soon, they want me to lure Your Highness there..."
As he spoke, guilt stabbed at his conscience; he couldn't meet my eyes.
The British reason for wanting me was painfully obvious.
Not some fan seeking a handshake or autograph.
They wanted a firsthand look at the Habsburg son-in-law candidate buzzing in high society to devise countermeasures.
"Get me to the Soissons conference, and you can keep serving as Austria's ambassador. Fail, and you're recalled home."
"...Yes. That's it."
Recall here meant more than dismissal.
Robinson was the scapegoat to appease families of officers slain in the last war.
If guilt stuck, it wouldn't just ruin him—his whole family would face blocked paths to advancement.
Not knowing for himself, but imagining his kids' careers severed, explained his desperation.
Brits sure played dirty.
Realistically, how could an ambassador like Robinson drag me to Soissons?
This was just buildup to 'Good work on Spain intel, but you failed overall—out you go.'
"Honestly, it feels excessive. You didn't do anything wrong—why put you through this?"
"Thank you for saying so."
"But if I suddenly agree to go, your homeland might suspect you. They could think there's some shady deal beyond personal friendship."
"True... No orthodox persuasion would convince Your Highness to go."
If we could leash Robinson, he'd be useful long-term, but we needed plausible distance for outsiders.
A foreign envoy too cozy with a key figure looked like a traitor back home.
"Here's the play: Contact your homeland. Tell them bare pleas won't work, but offer to discuss not nitpicking Ostend Company's current trade policies at Soissons—as a condition."
"Will they buy it?"
"Just between us, that's exactly what we're pushing there. With the Netherlands and Spain on our side, they can't outright refuse. No justification for it."
"Hmm... Yeah, makes sense. Hard to steamroll when we're collaborating with Spain and the Netherlands."
"Precisely. Frame it as sensing Austria's collusion with them, too tough to block, so graciously open the door while luring Franz to Soissons. Perfect."
This way, he'd get credit for maneuvering the opponent onto the chessboard using an inevitable concession.
Failing to see him as too capable to sack would be the real oddity.
"Your Highness, I owe you so much. How can I ever..."
"No need. I'm a bit annoyed myself. Using someone this loyal as a political sacrifice? Anyone can see that's wrong. Don't worry about it—I'm doing this because I want to."
Tell people not to think of an elephant, and that's all they think of. Say don't feel guilty, and it gnaws at them.
Owing twice over? No repayment would burden him more.
I'll collect with interest when needed, so no excessive thanks, Ambassador.
Still, pulling him from deportation disaster to solid diplomat? Win-win enough.
Best not dwell on how he'd be recalled without me.
Irrefutable.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "That's unexpected."
One afternoon after Franz's dispatch to Soissons was settled.
Charles VI cautiously informed Theresia, only to be surprised by her calm reaction.
"Last time you threw such a fit, refusing outright. Now you're accepting it quietly?"
"No choice, is there?"
"...Just to be sure, you're not going this time either. You know that, right?"
"Of course. Not just within the Empire—going to France is out of the question."
The girl who'd skipped banquets and holed up playing chess alone when he went to Berlin solo—why the sudden change?
Charles VI genuinely worried, scrutinizing his daughter's face.
Oddly, Theresia looked utterly serene, unlike before.
"Did Franz warn you in advance? That he might leave again briefly."
"Yes. So I'm trying not to overreact to these things."
Theresia nodded earnestly, a relieved smile on her face.
Though Charles VI didn't know, she'd already banished her deepest anxiety.
Reflecting deeply, her desire to cling to Franz stemmed from lingering unease.
They were engaged, but engagement wasn't marriage.
Investigation revealed countless cases where engagements were annulled, dizzyingly so.
Her maids called it as good as marriage, and she knew it intellectually, but reason and emotion often danced apart in the heart.
She'd even had nightmares of this happy life, this promised future, crumbling.
If only she were a bit older, she could decide for herself—but too young for that.
This passivity tormented her.
But.
"Franz made a promise. He may leave Vienna many times ahead, but his home isn't Lorraine or Vienna."
"What? Not Vienna?"
"It amounts to Vienna, but precisely... right here."
Theresia caressed the seat beside her with her palm.
"Right next to me. Where Franz returns to."
For him, home wasn't the Holy Roman Empire, Austria, or the Habsburg court—but the spot beside Theresia herself.
"Father, I'll work hard from now on. Really throw myself into it."
So she'd ensure that spot endured.
Theresia felt no more anxiety.