Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 059
Chapter Title: Treaty of Lorraine
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France's Louis XV had been utterly convinced that reports of victory after victory would come pouring in once the war began.
Unlike the leisurely Austrians, they had made meticulous preparations in advance and secured alliances.
Meanwhile, Austria's alliance with Prussia was already on shaky ground, and Russia was too far away to realistically send forces here.
No matter how you looked at it, this was a war where victory was assured, with no chance of defeat.
But then Spain suddenly pulled out, and Prussia entered the fray, throwing their calculations into disarray.
Even so, up to that point, it was manageable.
They might take some losses in northern Italy, but there was no way their army would lose to those backwater Prussians up north.
However.
"Uwaaaah!"
Bang! Crash!
When the report from the north arrived, Louis XV hurled the glass he was holding straight to the floor.
As the glass shattered, so did his composure.
"Berwick! That idiot Duke Berwick! He took over 70,000 troops and just handed them all over on a silver platter!"
"Y-Your Majesty! Please calm down..."
"Calm down? If you were me, could you hear this nonsense and not lose your temper?"
"......"
Even those who had tried to intervene fell silent and nodded in agreement.
In truth, they felt much the same way.
'That moron Berwick. How the hell does someone screw up this badly?'
'Hah... Guess it's because his roots are English. Screwing up at the worst possible time.'
With Spain withdrawing from the Italian front, France needed gains on the Rhine front to compensate.
That way, any losses there could be offset.
But hearing that their main force on the crucial Rhine front had been annihilated? It was infuriating.
And the opponent wasn't even Austria's famed Eugene—it was Prussia's crown prince, barely into his twenties. Louis XV nearly lost his mind for real.
"A man with forty years on the battlefield, crushed by some royal greenhorn who's just crawled onto the scene? Is that bastard Duke Berwick colluding with the enemy or what?"
"Your Majesty... Berwick did show utterly incomprehensible incompetence, but collusion? No."
"...If not that, how do you explain this? Friedrich? Who the hell even is this nobody?"
He wasn't asking because he truly didn't know who it was.
He just couldn't fathom how Prussia's crown prince had racked up such an absurd record.
"Prussia's always been a freakish nation obsessed with military buildup from the king on down. There were rumors they educated their crown prince almost abusively... Maybe that's true after all."
"Even so, isn't this too much?"
For results like this, either Berwick had been incompetently beyond belief, or Friedrich was a genius without peer.
But to Louis XV, the former seemed far more likely.
The other ministers shared the king's view at first, but a few days later, when a detailed eyewitness report arrived, the military's stance flipped 180 degrees.
"Duke Berwick seems to have done everything he could."
"So you're saying Prussia was that strong? Treating our soldiers like toys and trampling them?"
"No, it looks like they got caught in the enemy's tactics. It was so unexpected they couldn't respond properly, and the losses snowballed from there."
"...Really? Hard to believe, but fine. So what's our countermeasure? Re-form the army and intercept them, or fortify key positions!"
"Pushing into Austria proper is impossible now. Better to solidify our defensive lines and keep the enemy from advancing further."
The strategy of crossing the Rhine and pushing forward had become a pipe dream.
Regrettably, France wouldn't set foot on Austrian soil again in this war.
Damn Berwick... No, if the military was right, it was that monster Friedrich who'd devoured their army.
"Fine. Issue mobilization orders and replenish the troops. And if Duke Villars can hold out a bit longer in Italy..."
"Your Majesty! Duke Villars's army has been routed, and Turin has fallen to Eugene! Sardinia's agreed to pay reparations and hand over fortresses to Austria in exchange for getting their capital back—they're suing for peace..."
"Lost again! Annihilated this time too!"
He might have doubted Berwick, but Villars? He'd trusted him.
A heavy silence settled over Versailles, no one daring to speak.
In the end, that was the prime minister's role—to step up in moments like this.
Cardinal Fleury spoke gravely, offering the only solution.
"...Your Majesty, at this point... requesting mediation from Britain, the Netherlands, and the Papal States... seems the way."
"Hah... How many months since we started this war?"
Mediation? It was like throwing the first punch, getting pummeled in return, then tearfully begging, "How about a draw?"
It was tantamount to admitting defeat and pleading with third parties not to let them get carved up further.
"No choice. We could scrape together 100,000 easily, but officer losses are catastrophic. Too many mid-level commanders captured, cannons lost too..."
"What if we just seal off key points and hunker down?"
"One spot, maybe. But with Prussia occupying Lorraine, we have to concentrate everything on the road to Paris. That leaves Eugene free to sweep Lyon and the southeast."
They should have lost moderately, but they'd been gutted twice over. Even mighty France was helpless.
Dragging it out would just mean more territory lost, and more concessions later.
No choice.
The Most Christian King.
Louis XV's pride was cast into the dirt.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ France wasn't the only one shocked by Prussia's brutal thrashing of their forces.
Eugene, having captured Turin, mobilized every contact to uncover exactly how Friedrich had cooked Berwick—down to the recipe.
Not just unease about Prussia potentially threatening Austria later, but simple curiosity as a strategist.
While preparations to invade France proper were underway, Eugene finally learned the full details of the Battle of Speyer and came straight to me.
"Your Highness, have you seen this?"
"The battle where Friedrich repelled the French? I heard the gist."
The report in Eugene's hand detailed both armies' formations and the battle's progression fairly thoroughly.
The French had deployed in the textbook linear formation they so revered, while Friedrich... had arrayed in the oblique order so familiar to me.
Ugh, just looking at it triggers my PTSD.
Memories of my past life, where I'd personally taken the brunt to prove its devastating power, brought a wry smile.
"As I said before, I expected Prussia to put up a fight given Friedrich's talent. But... the boy's become a monster while I wasn't looking."
"Even in your eyes, Prince Eugene?"
"I showed my pupil the front lines once and asked what he'd do. He suggested a decent strategy. But pulling off tactical innovations like this? He lacked that knack."
Can't be helped. Considering Friedrich's military prowess, matching him even in strategic vision would be impressive.
My brother Karl couldn't manage that and got wrung out like a used rag.
"He's an ally now, so no stronger shield, but what guarantee is there he won't become a wicked dragon threatening the Empire someday? What then, Your Highness?"
"I'll do my utmost to prevent it, but if worst comes to worst, I'll have to become Siegfried myself."
"True... If Your Highness slays the dragon, that pupil might become the dragon-slaying whelp. Though that's just potential."
As Eugene said, no law said the Potato King couldn't turn black and become a Paffnir-like beast.
But wasn't it all a matter of perspective?
"Your Highness, did you know? In Europe, dragons are evil beasts that devour people and burn nations. But in the East, they're sometimes revered as divine guardians protecting the realm."
"Oh? Hadn't heard that."
"Yes. So no need to worry overmuch. Swords, beasts, people—all depend on how you use them."
Besides, with such a flashy debut, not just France—Britain and Russia would turn their eyes to Prussia too.
To dodge the scrutiny, Friedrich would have to stick with me.
Not intentional, but the situation worked in our favor.
"If Your Highness has something in mind, I'm relieved. Next, we should discuss what to extract in negotiations..."
"Excuse me, you two. Sorry to interrupt, but shouldn't we finalize the Alpine crossing plan first?"
Eugene smoothly shifted topics, and Joseph, who'd been listening, cautiously joined in.
"What, itching to cross the Alps and invade France proper?"
"Well, we already planned it, and now's the perfect chance—why not?"
"We just pretended to plan it. Sit tight. The war's over anyway."
"...Pardon? What do you..."
Joseph's eyes filled with bewilderment at Eugene's explanation.
Couldn't grasp why end the war in such a favorable spot?
Youth meant lacking insight beyond the battlefield.
Time for his future liege—me, the old mentor—to explain simply.
"Joseph, if you were Louis XV, what would you do now?"
"Secure Paris first. Prussia's retaken Lorraine, Alsace next—Paris is priority."
"But while they're doing that, if we cross the Alps into France proper, they can't stop us. We know it, they know it. So France, unable to cover both alone—what then?"
"...Ask foreign aid?"
"Right. Britain, Netherlands, Spain—they're all shocked. Worry we'll take too much if they sit idle."
Britain and Spain stayed out hoping we'd bleed each other—not for one side to dominate.
Prolong it, and Habsburg grabs not just Lorraine but Alsace? Empire's influence skyrockets uncontrollably.
And Russia?
They'd parked in Poland, watching idly—now sending troops the moment things twist oddly.
Just want one foot in France to claim a seat at the table.
In my past life, they played dumb till we were in danger. Brazen as ever.
"I see. If France begs Britain, they'll see it as dire and intervene swiftly."
"Exactly. Prolonging gains nothing—Russia and the bystanders will muscle in for scraps. We feign the Alpine push, set the mood, and Britain or Spain will mediate: 'How about calling it here?'"
—We could smash France's pottery to bits, but for Britain and Spain's face, we'll stop here.
That's the ideal stance pre-negotiations.
Of course, not stopping for real—extract fat concessions elsewhere than France proper.
Like solid hegemony in northern Italy.
Openly carving up France would trigger Britain and Spain. Key is building an environment to nibble France gradually as it lags post-war.
"Then Your Highness returns to Vienna? Negotiations should be there, no?"
That'd be normal, but not this time.
Friedrich conquered up to Lorraine—let him taste the reward.
"Brief stop, but I'll ask His Majesty to hold France talks here."
Eugene glanced where my finger pointed on the map, eyes widening briefly before chuckling and nodding.
The place my past life's self had to cede to France for marriage with Theresia.
My homeland I couldn't visit even once after wedding.
Lorraine shall become the Emperor's direct fief forever.
Western Europe's prime iron ore mines, northern Italian hegemony.
France lamed for good.
But your wine's still the world's best. Cheers.