Chapter 77
Chapter 77
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 077
Chapter Title: Husband and Wife Scammers (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Hey, you guys are finished, right? This place is Orthodox territory from now on."
"D-Don't make me laugh! The Ottoman Empire hasn't fallen yet!"
"Read the room! This was originally our land!"
"From today forward, this is Christ's domain!"
By the time Sofia fell, the Ottomans had lost control over most of northern Bulgaria.
With Christian uprisings erupting across the entire Balkans, the local garrisons and city guards were utterly useless for maintaining order.
"Shouldn't we just kill these Muslim bastards? What if they rise up again later?"
"No way! Her Highness Theresa said she won't tolerate indiscriminate violence or slaughter against Muslims."
"...Well, they're done for anyway. If they beg to leave, let 'em go. But first, let's squeeze some money out of them."
"By the way, do you think Her Highness Theresa will come here too? She's like an angel descended from heaven... If she does, I'm converting to the Eastern Catholic Church."
"Me too, me too!"
Most Christians in the Balkans clung to their longstanding Orthodox faith, but there was one church that had been growing at an undeniable pace lately.
It was the Eastern Catholic Church, which had begun spreading from Transylvania—under Habsburg rule for the past twenty years.
These churches acknowledged the Pope's supremacy but followed Orthodox rites and even enjoyed a degree of autonomy.
The Habsburgs had promoted them to weaken the Orthodox power in Romania, and now, unexpectedly, their influence was exploding amid the war.
"If Her Highness Theresa graces us with her presence, the faithful here will be filled with the courage of the Holy Spirit. Please..."
"Romania is still too dangerous! Come to safe Greece first!"
Unlike Franz, who had somehow ended up near the front lines, Theresa was still sticking to safe rear areas, focusing entirely on morale-boosting visits.
Whether Catholic or Orthodox, all Christians felt a profound resonance with words like "Madonna" or "saintess."
The Austrian Church saw this phenomenon as a huge boon for integrating Balkan Christians.
"Public opinion is buzzing with praise for Her Highness Theresa?"
"More and more people are calling her the 'Saintess of the Balkans.'"
"...It's actually working?"
"If we use this chance to convert every last Orthodox believer..."
"No. Even a hint of that, and they'll cry that the Catholics had ulterior motives all along. Franz His Highness insisted that Theresa must remain a pure symbol of inclusion and unity."
Exactly.
What Austria needed most going forward were words like unity, inclusion, and assimilation. They couldn't afford to lose that magnanimous image.
Want to go Eastern Catholic? Haha, by all means.
Prefer to stay Orthodox? Haha, stay then.
Want to remain Muslim? Haha, off to the Ottomans with you. We'll respect your religious freedom—just go worship there.
Once the war ended like this, everywhere west of the Black Sea would fall under Austrian influence.
Newly independent states had no choice but to live in Austria's shadow. Why rush?
Best to quietly spread the Eastern Catholic sect as far as it would go. That was the long-term win.
And Theresa was the perfect figurehead for this image of a "kind, open-hearted Austria."
"Is there anything I can do to help you all?"
"W-Well... Quite a few people got injured while driving out the Ottoman garrison recently."
"Oh dear. I'll look into sending you the supplies you need."
"Thank you! And, um... There's talk about rebuilding the damaged churches, but as you know, they're Orthodox..."
"Places to offer prayers are essential, especially in hard times. Of course we'll fix them. Don't worry."
Until now, Franz had led most of the court's foreign policies, so no one really knew Theresa's role.
To the average Balkan resident, she was simply an angel incarnate—appearing wherever help was needed, distributing aid without discriminating between Orthodox and Catholic, sharing love equally.
"Her Highness Theresa... I saw her from afar once before, and I still can't forget it."
"Me too... Her beauty matches her gentle nature perfectly..."
Of course, her stunning looks had played no small part in her surging popularity—no need to belabor the point.
Every time she visited a city for morale boosts, the self-proclaimed "Theresa Guard" ranks swelled steadily.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Orthodox believers were scattered across the Ottoman Empire.
Thus, the Ottomans refrained from outright oppression, pretending—at least nominally—to respect the Ecumenical Patriarch, leader of the Orthodox Church.
But unlike the Catholic Church, Orthodoxy wasn't centralized under one patriarch.
The Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople was merely the nominal head; most Orthodox followed their local metropolitans or patriarchs.
Arsenije IV, the Serbian Patriarch based at the Peć Monastery, was a prime symbol of Orthodox militancy.
Even before Franz stirred up revolts, he'd been rallying Serbia against the Ottomans, calling for the Church's salvation.
Naturally, the Ottomans branded him a traitor and issued an arrest warrant, but with all of Serbia now in Austrian hands, it meant nothing.
After the Ottoman army's chaotic retreat south, his already lofty reputation soared even higher.
Now, he toured with the Balkans' top celebrity—Theresa—holding joint services, feeling Orthodox liberation right around the corner.
"Waaah! Her Highness Theresa! Your Eminence! Long live!"
"Patriarch Arsenije! Crush every last Ottoman scum!"
It felt odd hearing assassination requests aimed at God's servant, but it spoke to the depth of Christian rage after centuries of suppression.
"Heh heh, never dreamed I'd live to see this day. It's like a dream."
"The Lord never turns away those who cry out His name. Perhaps He finally looked our way because of voices like yours, Your Eminence."
"I'm grateful for your kind words. By the way... did His Highness Franz say anything in particular?"
"Anything particular?"
Did she truly not know, or was she playing innocent?
No way a woman with such pure eyes was acting. Probably the former.
Still, her genuine innocence made even Orthodox folk feel equally embraced—no complaints there.
"I see His Highness Franz as the one behind this war. As his wife, I wondered if you knew how far he plans to advance."
"Ah, I see. I don't really know either. My husband doesn't talk much about the war with me."
"Makes sense. Tales of bloodshed wouldn't suit someone like Your Highness."
After reaching Sofia, the Austrian army's advance noticeably slowed.
Many reasons, but likely securing rear safety after such a lightning march southward.
Honestly, even stopping here would etch this as a monumental victory in Holy Roman history.
But for a man who'd dreamed of anti-Ottoman struggle and Orthodox liberation his whole life, he wanted Franz to push just a bit more.
Sofia meant Edirne was next door. Seize Edirne, and you'd control the gateway to the Bosphorus Strait.
Hold the Bosphorus? Constantinople—the Orthodox homeland and ultimate dream—would dangle within reach.
280 years since 1453, when the Ottomans took that shining city.
This could be his last chance to end the long humiliation and despair.
"Does Your Highness... have no plans to visit Sofia?"
"No. I'm not permitted that far forward. I'll probably just tour rear cities for a while."
"I see. Then it's time for us to part soon. Thank you for your time."
Miss this chance, and the Austrian-Ottoman border might solidify like this.
As a cleric first but savvy statesman second, the Patriarch knew Europe's mood well.
France, Britain, Spain—they were all scheming when to intervene, biding their moment.
Fail to press the advantage, and "mediation"—aka meddling—would follow. Austria might even settle there.
Not yet.
The war mustn't stop.
The Patriarch resolved to fan this divine final opportunity into an even brighter blaze.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ No need to belabor how smoothly the war was going anymore—I'm tired of repeating it.
"Josef."
"Yes, sir!"
"No word yet from France or Britain, right?"
"Confirmed, none. Only Russia has officially responded—asking us to leave everything north of the Black Sea to them, saying they'll resume their advance soon if we just wait."
"They're panicking we'll stretch toward the Black Sea."
Azov and such were physically out of reach anyway.
But at this pace, Austria could turn Moldavia through Bulgaria into protectorates.
That'd put the Black Sea's west flank fully in our grasp—headache for Russia.
They were likely rushing army reorganizations to grab more ports.
"What's your take? Where should we call it quits?"
"My original plan was capturing Niš and Banja Luka to secure Adriatic control, then stop. That seemed like the limit... but..."
"But?"
"Things aren't going that way. Supplies are smooth, locals cooperative, troops' morale sky-high... Even I'm confused now."
See, even in the best wars, an offensive endpoint always arrives eventually.
Supply lines stretch, resupply slows, convoys get ambushed more, combat effectiveness drops.
But this bizarre war defied that limit.
Every conquered spot flipped to our side instantly.
Local rebels were even looting Ottoman depots and handing supplies straight to us.
Austrian stocks weren't just holding—they were growing.
Locals welcoming us as heaven-sent heroes kept morale burning bright.
Was this the so-called Crusader high?
"That's why I'm asking... Your Highness, how far do you plan to go?"
"We can definitely push past the Rhodope Mountains to Edirne. They'll form defenses, sure, but we can winter here no problem. And once Russia shakes off their plague, they'll advance too—forcing Ottomans to defend the Black Sea, thinning them out."
"Fall Edirne... then where do we draw the border with the Ottomans?"
Beats me.
We'd slogan-ed "Eastern Christian liberation," but I never dreamed we'd blitz to Edirne.
Worse, now a quiet ambition was stirring inside me.
No exaggeration—this was almost close enough to smell the Bosphorus if they toppled.
And we still had reserves.
March on the Ottoman capital—Konstantiniyye, once the "self-proclaimed" Roman Empire's Constantinople... Tempting.
Josef's eyes, right in front of me, proved it wasn't just my delusion.
"Even just feigning an attack would be legendary. Who's ever assaulted the Ottoman capital before?"
"True. Vienna's been hit, but Austria's never struck theirs."
Pretend-attacking would scream to the world: Austria now dominates the Ottomans.
As my thoughts tipped further...
"Your Highness! Serbian Patriarch Arsenije has arrived in Sofia to see you. He wants to rally global Orthodox support for retaking Constantinople. What should we do?"
The final puzzle piece jumped into my hand.
What more answer did I need?
That city was calling us.