Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 069
Chapter Title: Fragrance of Rome (3)
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The ratification of the Imperial Council Charter didn't take long.
The proposal itself garnered widespread approval, but some voiced the opinion that additional safety measures would be preferable.
"If there are no objections to the vote allocation or composition, we'll submit it as is."
"Hmm... What if Austria and Prussia are joined by Saxony...?"
"It still won't reach a majority."
"Hmm... But even so, what if Austria and Prussia ally with Saxony and Bavaria...?"
"...To be frank, even now, if they unite like that, they could handle virtually any matter within the Empire. But if you're still uneasy, we can prepare a more solid safeguard."
They're the sort who tap even a stone bridge before crossing, but such caution is actually a boon for me.
They must realize that this already demonstrates ample consideration from the Imperial House toward the princes.
Adding even more ironclad exception clauses here will make it impossible for them not to see just how council-friendly we are.
-If a subcommittee's decision is made by the votes of six or fewer independent Imperial estates, the council may review it again.
"With this, the scenario you fear—where the Imperial House allies with three or four electors to control the committee—cannot happen. Right?"
"Ooh!"
The possibility of a tiny cabal of major powers manipulating the council is now completely blocked at the source.
Even the princes who had voiced the slightest concerns now nodded in acknowledgment.
But the puppet states I'll create in the Balkans will naturally become independent Imperial estates, rendering that safeguard meaningless.
Unaware of that future, the princes enthusiastically approved and passed my proposal verbatim.
-The committee enters procedures to resolve the Prussian-Bavarian dispute with 82 ayes out of 100 votes.
-Prussia restores tariffs and tolls toward Bavaria to their previous levels, and Bavaria—even without joining Prussia's Rhine River Economic Alliance—will not refuse support for its activation.
The committee began procedures to regulate the Prussian-Bavarian conflict, which was one step away from erupting.
Of course, it wasn't just extending a hand to Bavaria, who had been getting pummeled one-sidedly; we also took care to save Prussia's face.
Bavaria was freed from Prussia's tariff assaults—which rivaled regalian rights in their audacity—and Prussia secured Bavaria's cooperation in return.
But if Prussia responded with a flat 'Nope, not doing it' here, everything would fall apart.
"Will Friedrich really accept it?"
"It's fifty-fifty... Throwing out his own proposal because the result doesn't suit him would be the laughingstock of the century..."
"He wouldn't refuse, would he? Surely not..."
The first button is always crucial.
If Prussia bowed here, the committee—arguably the council's core—could gain even greater prestige than the Imperial Diet itself.
After all, it would mean Prussia, the Empire's undisputed second superpower, was bound by the committee's decisions.
In the suffocating tension at the center of it all, Friedrich rendered his decision surprisingly swiftly.
[It's a regrettable outcome, but I will respect the council's decision.] One might see Prussia's scheme as thwarted, but Friedrich spun it domestically in an entirely different light.
[Behold. Prussia's might has no rival save Austria, so Bavaria could never withstand our pressure alone and had to rally the strength of all the princes.] [The tariff offensive wasn't sustainable from the start, and with Bavaria's cooperation secured, the true victor is us—Prussia!] The other princely states were baffled—What kind of mental gymnastics is that?—but a few didn't see it that way.
After all, Prussia hadn't dragged its feet after the decision; it issued a statement immediately.
Perhaps Friedrich had been satisfied with gains at this level from the outset.
At the very least, Prussia's Junker aristocracy thought so.
"Who knew His Majesty wasn't just a master of war, but diplomacy too! Hahaha!"
"Indeed. Look at those Bavarians get thoroughly thrashed. Kahahaha!"
Of course, Prussia wasn't the only one thrilled with the outcome.
"Phew... With those mad Prussian dogs finally backing off, we can breathe easy for a while."
"They don't have the guts to make enemies of every other prince anyway. Let's pretend to cooperate just enough and maintain the status quo."
Bavaria, reeling on the brink of oblivion from a 50-fold tariff energy blast, let out a sigh of profound relief, feeling like they'd been reborn.
Next.
"Kahahahaha! This is what a council is! This is the Empire's true representative!"
"The name feels a tad underwhelming now. If we'd called it the Imperial Senate instead of a committee, it would've perfectly evoked Rome."
"Is this the view those senators enjoyed...? Magnificent."
Above all, the council—the biggest beneficiary of this affair—rode a dopamine high that pierced the stratosphere into lethal doses.
"Your Highness Franz! Our council will devote itself body and soul to the Empire's everlasting prosperity henceforth."
"Yes, I look forward to it. I'll support your legislative activities from Vienna as well."
This was worlds apart from the council's usual drawn-out voting marathons, which dragged on for months or even years in stalemates.
Though limited to emergencies like wars or civil strife, wielding that power once was an absolute rush.
Not just the fired-up Prussia and Bavaria, but even lingering issues from Protestant expulsions in certain princely states came under the committee's purview.
If mighty Prussia had bowed its head, no ordinary princely state would dare challenge the committee's authority.
Armed with this sword called the committee, the Imperial Diet's power marched to new highs day after day.
Even as the council unwittingly reinforced the noose that would one day bind them tighter.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ A familiar face appeared at the Hofburg Palace, now flooded not with doubts but fervent cheers and encouragement.
"Andrei Ivanovich from Russia. His Majesty desires Austria's assistance."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The man calmly tilting his coffee cup without a flicker of expression.
Count Andrei Ivanovich Osterman, the Russian Empress's closest confidant, whom I'd met while discussing the Polish War of Succession.
Requesting a private audience the moment Prussian-Bavarian tensions eased? This must be urgent.
I'd been eagerly awaiting this visit, but they didn't know my intentions, while I had theirs crystal clear.
No need to tip my hand; I sipped my coffee indifferently, as if it were none of my concern.
"I heard you received a medal recently for brilliantly concluding the Polish War. Congratulations."
"Thanks to Your Highness's gracious aid. I also heard Your Highness deftly extinguished what could have ballooned into a massive conflagration. As expected."
"I merely negotiated diligently; the real work was all the council. Still, it's a relief it ended well. Now, you say Her Majesty requires our help?"
Let's cut the maneuvering and get to the point. We both know what this is about anyway.
"Yes... As you're aware, our attention was fixed on Poland during that affair. Seizing the chance, those vile Tatars attacked the Ukrainian frontier. Heavy losses ensued."
"You're referring to the Crimean Khanate."
"Precisely. Devilish spawn who know only enslaving innocents and stabbing in the back. Thus, Her Majesty has resolved to raise the sword of retribution and judge these fiends. It pains us that we can't eradicate them from the earth entirely, but reality is harsh."
Every word choice drips venom.
It's no mere rhetoric or diplomatic flourish—it's genuine, sending chills down my spine.
The Tatar yoke is centuries-old history, but Russia's enmity toward the Mongols burns as fiercely as ever.
Even as a great power dwarfing them militarily, the Crimean Khanate—dominated by Tatars—continues its raids to this day.
Cumulative victims in the 18th century alone might number not tens of thousands, but millions.
That many people enslaved or slaughtered, fueling immense hatred toward Crimean Tatars even in St. Petersburg and Moscow.
Textbooks and literature teach that Tatars are a relic Russia must sweep away. Need I say more?
"...The Crimean Khanate is effectively an Ottoman protectorate, so you're saying you'll go to war with the Ottomans."
"Correct. The Tatars are ghosts of a bygone era anyway; our valiant troops will overrun their capital in moments. The issue is the Ottomans."
With the Khanate handing them casus belli by raiding Ukraine, there's no wriggling out.
From Russia's view, militarily, the Khanate must be exterminated to secure the border.
Diplomatically, it's a warning shot to the Ottomans and a showcase of Russian might.
Economically, controlling the Black Sea demands the Crimean Peninsula they occupy.
It's strategically vital land held by blood enemies. How could they not scream for war—especially with perfect provocation?
Any 18th-century monarch not howling for war here lacks the qualifications.
But that's Russia's business. What does it have to do with us?
"The Ottomans have ended their war with the Safavids and suffered successive defeats to Christian states lately, so they've been honing their blades and preparing. Even as Russia's power waxes daily, it won't be easy."
In my past life, they jumped into the Ottoman war to recoup losses from the Polish Succession, but objectively, there's no reason now.
Just reorganizing Lorraine into an Imperial demesne and overhauling the newly acquired North Italian administration will take years.
Plus, backing the new committee leaves no room for war.
That's our true stance, though outwardly different—and Russia will assume as much.
Why else would the Empress's chief minister rush to Vienna to beg an audience with me?
"As Your Highness recalls, didn't Russia and Austria ally ten years ago? We stood united in the Polish War and claimed victory."
"...Did we? That doesn't quite match my recollection. When France invaded and we desperately needed aid, Russia claimed the Polish front was too urgent to send troops."
"That was... But once Poland stabilized, we intended to send them immediately. Just a slight delay..."
"True. You said you'd send reinforcements after France's main army was annihilated. Of course, I know you had no such intent, but His Imperial Majesty and the Privy Council see it differently."
In original history, as the war dragged, Austria judged further losses untenable, allowing Russian troops to advance to the Rhine.
The treaty activated for the first time then, drawing Austria into the Russo-Ottoman war later—but now, the situation is similar yet subtly altered.
The core of the 1726 Russo-Austrian alliance treaty boils down to two points:
-If a third power attacks one, the other provides immediate military aid.
-Neither concludes separate treaties excluding the other in war or peace negotiations.
There are finer details, but these two are the crux.
Yet when France invaded Austria, Russia dawdled until the war ended. That's objective fact.
We can simply claim Russia breached first.
"The Privy Council has already noted the tense atmosphere between Russia and the Ottomans. But everyone says: you didn't aid us promptly when invaded, so why must we honor the treaty?"
"That was solely due to the Polish crisis..."
"We're in a political crisis within the Empire too. It's quiet now, but who knows when Prussia and Bavaria might clash again."
Hmm. A perfect excuse.
Thanks to Friedrich's theatrics, my words carry undeniable persuasive weight, not mere excuses.
All our plans presuppose war with the Ottomans, but only Theresia, Friedrich, and I know that—how could Andrei guess?
"...Still, this is an opportunity for you too. If we strike the Ottomans, won't the Balkans' defenses slacken? A chance to solidify your gains from the last war, no?"
"Even people overeat and get indigestion. Nations are the same."
A shadow crept over Andrei's face.
His reaction suggests he anticipated we'd rebuff Russia's overture. Gratifying.
"We could accommodate you in armistice talks."
"Hmm... For us to bolster your war at great strain, that's far too paltry without specifics—just vague promises lack appeal."
"Then state your demands. I'll relay to Her Majesty and push for serious consideration."
"First, as you say, for this war to be our opportunity, we must reap commensurate gains. But even victories often yield naught due to rivals' checks—tragic for victors. I'd preempt that tragedy."
Mind your own business about whatever we wrench from the Ottomans if we win.
He pondered my proposal briefly, then nodded.
It's not Russia's to give—it's plundered from the Ottomans. Why quibble?
As the proverb goes: in foreign affairs, even a son-in-law's cow gets devoured.
"Then in exchange, don't limit Austria's gains either. Mutual agreement solves everything."
"Agreed. And if third parties like Britain or France intervene, Russia takes the lead in countering them. Promise that, and we'll align."
"Naturally."
France lacks the capacity now anyway, and Britain can't easily stir trouble this time.
Everything so far was baseline concessions. The real meat comes next.
"Finally, we're gathering heirs from ducal houses across the Empire for successor training and networking soirées. Her Majesty might wish to expand it; I suggest including allies."
"I see."
This isn't some fabrication.
I met Theresia through such programs in Vienna.
"Yes. So why not send suitable heirs from Russia to Vienna? We'll cover all costs and guarantee safety."
"...Hmm, that's not for me to decide on the spot."
"Then we'll nominate someone suitable; just approve. Not resident in Russia, but connected to both our realms."
"Any candidates in mind?"
"Duke Karl Peter Ulrich of Holstein-Gottorp seems ideal."
Karl Peter Ulrich—Peter Feodorovich Romanov in Russia, grandson of Peter the Great as his name implies.
Born in German-speaking Holstein-Gottorp, and Empress Anna Ivanovna intensely distrusts Peter the Great's bloodline anyway.
No real succession prospects; more a headache. If we take responsibility, it's a win for Russia.
Still, as Peter the Great's symbolic grandson, it's a formality of approval.
So Andrei interpreted, smiling and nodding.
"Understood. Since he doesn't reside with us, Her Majesty will gladly approve. If he stays in Vienna indefinitely, it's win-win."
"A satisfactory outcome for both nations. Splendid."
Today too, happiness evangelist Franz Stefan showered joy upon a foreign realm like a giving tree.
Seven-year-old Peter Romanov is just a kid whose sole significance is Peter the Great's blood.
No one will criticize us for preemptively inviting a fringe royal for education—unless the current Empress dies suddenly, a puppet emperor ascends, and gets couped...
As if that could happen. Nah, no way. Heh heh heh.
Thus, the boy destined to etch his name as Russia's worst tyrant in history came bundled as a package deal with the Great Ottoman War.
Still, I rather like fellows like him.
At least he repays kindnesses from childhood.