Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 078
Chapter Title: Nightmare of the Bosphorus
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I've never been to Istanbul.
Of course not. In my previous life as Franz, I never even caught a glimpse of the Bosphorus Strait, let alone Istanbul itself. And in modern times, I lived the straight-laced life of a guy shuttling back and forth between Seoul and Vienna.
That said, my head is stocked full of all sorts of "what if" scenarios from my one and only hobby: the Western history club.
Ideas like platinum jewelry, glass workshop improvements, or dominating the insurance business—all those came from there, so they've been pretty helpful, I'd say.
However.
"Ooooh! Your Highness Franz! Just as Archduchess Therese described, you're a truly tall and stately gentleman. You radiate an aura of dignity that's no exaggeration to call the liberator of the Orthodox Church, the hero of Christendom!"
"Thank you for the kind words. How is Therese doing?"
"Archduchess Therese receives the love and reverence of all. I've become convinced she'll serve as the bridge between the Orthodox and Catholic churches. Now, if we can just reclaim Constantinople...!"
No matter how I rack my brain, the Western history club never discussed a scenario where Austria attacks Constantinople.
The talks always wrapped up at swallowing Serbia or Bosnia.
Damn, what a bunch of imagination-starved guys.
That's why they should've broadened their horizons with alternate history novels or short stories, not just history books.
Not that I'm guilty—I was too busy acquiring tech to make this country stronger.
Who in their right mind, when talking about war with the Ottomans, would even consider, "What if we end up attacking Constantinople? Should we plan for that?"
If someone brought that up in a strategy meeting, they wouldn't be on the committee the next day.
Eugène would've made sure of it, one way or another.
"The Archbishop is calling loudly for the liberation of Constantinople, but to do that, we must first take Edirne. Up until now, Christians have been the majority in the cities we've captured, but in Edirne, Muslims make up nearly half. Our previous methods might not work. Do you have any good ideas?"
"...Even if Muslims are the majority in Edirne, there are still a huge number of Christians inside. The merchants are split too, so a little nudge and we'll get responses from within."
"...That's a solid strategy."
History proves that in war, the most terrifying enemy isn't some legendary general or wonder weapon—it's the enemy from within.
From what I've investigated, Edirne has nearly half its population as Muslims, while Catholics and Orthodox combined make up 40 percent.
Not just any half—it's a 40 percent that knows most major cities across the Balkans have already fallen to Christians.
In this situation, when Austria's massive army marches on the city, how do you think they'll react?
"Edirne's brothers and sisters will think, 'Our turn has finally come. Once the gates open, our freedom returns.'"
Hm, perfect. No need to hesitate anymore.
With the board set like this, dragging our feet will just rack up more casualties.
"I'll order the troops prepared. The Ottomans will assemble relief forces too, so we have to reach Edirne faster than they do, no exceptions. Archbishop, please draft the letter you'll smuggle into Edirne ahead of time."
"Yes! Oh... finally, finally, the moment has arrived!"
The Serbian Archbishop is a symbol of uncompromising Orthodoxy across the Balkans.
If someone like him publicly backs me, it'll be a huge boost for expanding Catholicism in the East later on.
Constantinople offensive? Hey, just knocking on the door counts as an assault, right?
Anyway, the liberator of the Orthodox Church is none other than Franz Stefan, brothers and sisters of the faith.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The hero who would save Rumelia from the wicked Christians.
A true believer who prayed not just five times a day, but fifteen—and Allah's sword.
Grand Vizier Sheikh Pasha, tasked with the holy mission of repelling the evil Holy Roman forces, felt like he wasn't really living anymore.
"Sofia has fallen!"
What the hell is with this guy's speed?
How long has it been since the Sultan ordered more troops after hearing of uprisings across all of Rumelia?
The capital's Janissaries had finished assembling in four days, but the infantry from across Anatolia had only just wrapped up, and the ones from Damascus and Egypt hadn't even arrived yet.
Even if they all gathered, could they win?
Hastily scraped together, the total force was about 50,000 at best.
They were already pouring nearly everything into the war with Russia—send more to Rumelia, and the Black Sea really would become Russia's front yard.
But word was, the Austrian main army plus their allies numbered over 80,000.
And with Rumelia's rebels rising everywhere, keeping their supplies steady, there's no chance of the enemy starving themselves out if we stall.
"What about pressuring the Adriatic with the navy?"
"That's... impossible. With merchant ships from Italian states, France, and Britain, blockading the sea lanes would isolate the homeland for real."
"...Then how about pulling in Britain and France for mediation?"
"They're considering it, but no word yet."
"Damn it all. Since when have the Europeans gotten along so well? Or is there some other factor I don't know about?"
Europeans can't stand seeing each other prosper—even half-dead and revived, they'd normally be mediating by now.
The fact it's dragging on means Austria must've pulled some strings already.
"Franz Stefan... He's no mere brutal Shaytan. He must possess both the serpent's cunning and the lion's ferocity."
"...Isn't cunning wisdom what Shaytans are supposed to have by default?"
True enough—if Franz Stefan really was Shaytan incarnate, exceeding our expectations wouldn't be strange at all.
"O God... why this trial upon us."
"Disaster! Disaster! The Austrian main force has started moving. Target seems to be Edirne!"
"That devil! As expected, he's fast too!"
At this rate, the blood of Edirne's good Muslims would fill Franz and Joseph's bathtubs.
But honestly, he had no confidence in beating them even if they fought.
How else had they dyed Rumelia in blood and violence so quickly?
They'd crushed every Ottoman army they faced.
Tatar cavalry wiped out at the war's start. Niš fallen. Relief force for Banja Luka ambushed and annihilated.
Then Rumelia's main army cooperatively smashed on the Niš plain.
Looking at it all lined up like this, he really didn't want to fight. It didn't seem winnable... Couldn't they just lock the gates and defend?
But with the enemy already marching on Edirne, defense-only wasn't an option either.
Full-scale battle had no chance of victory, so abandon Edirne and hole up in Constantinople?
Austria probably couldn't take the capital either, but holing up there was the problem itself.
Make that suggestion, and the Sultan would perform the magic trick of separating his head from his body.
"...Maybe negotiate for now."
Most realistic and moderate option, but problems there too.
What to put on the negotiation table?
If they say, "We'll take Edirne, you pull south"?
Bring that proposal back, and the Sultan wouldn't just sever head from body—he'd detach the legs too, unveiling human anatomy's mysteries.
No path to survival either way.
The Grand Vizier glared at the name Franz Stefan on the report.
Where the hell did this devil spawn pop out from?
If he were a real demon, couldn't he curse the Sultan dead?
Might buy a ceasefire negotiation excuse and survive.
Half out of his mind, the Grand Vizier offered his final prayer toward Mecca.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ If I had to sum up this war in one word, it'd be agitation and fabrication... no, no—blitzkrieg.
Come to think of it, agitation is part of this astonishing speed too.
Europe's patient on its deathbed couldn't keep up with the pace of Neo-Austria, fitted with artificial joints named Franz.
Edirne's siege was no different.
The Ottomans had frantically gathered defenders to fortify the city, but after losing their main army and getting tripped up by rebels everywhere, how much could they muster?
They were probably scrambling a big force down south, but it'd take at least ten more days for them to arrive.
And naturally, I had no intention of giving them that much time.
By now, the slogan "Help Franz build an Orthodox paradise!" under the Serbian Archbishop's name must be circulating wildly inside the city.
Three days at most, and riots and uprisings would erupt within— we'd strike then and enter...
"Your Highness! Your Highness! Edirne's garrison has signaled surrender! They've even raised the white flag!"
"...What? Already? Why so fast?"
We'd just encircled the city, and already the white flag?
Was Ottoman resistance spirit really this weak?
Was the image of them shouting "Allahu Akbar" and fighting to the last man just media fiction?
I wasn't the only one baffled—Joseph and Archbishop Arsenije standing beside me exchanged stunned glances.
"...What the? Did some Orthodox liberation group take out the garrison commander or something?"
"W-well, maybe hear them out first?"
"Yeah. Whoever—governor or captain—send someone out."
No one in the world wants to die, but handing over a key strategic point like this defied my common sense.
Sofia had more Christians anyway, so maybe...
No... thinking back, the remaining Muslims there were trembling like lunatics. Were these guys on something?
Maybe some butterfly effect I didn't know about spread opium across the Ottomans.
"Joseph, don't let your guard down just because it's going too easy. They might have a trap ready..."
"Eeeeek! P-please spare us!"
Before I finished, Edirne's supposed representatives prostrated themselves toward us.
Heads bowed, unable even to meet our eyes—that's what we call faces gripped by terror.
Now it all made sense. I chuckled and patted Joseph's shoulder.
"Looks like the enemy heard your reputation and got scared stiff. Joseph the slaughter tank general."
"Your Highness, that's because you keep pushing..."
Joseph started protesting, but a shrill voice near fainting cut him off.
"F-forgive us! Your Highness Franz! We've surrendered, so please don't drain our blood alive!"
"I'm fine with it. But... but please, just spare my children... I have a four-year-old daughter at home!"
"Waaah, I don't wanna die with my eyes gouged out. Please...!"
What? Had Joseph really been doing insane stuff like that behind my back?
Glancing over, he looked just as clueless.
Unless my ears were wrong, they called my name, not his—must be my imagination.
"Your Highness Franz! Take me! Sacrifice me! Just take this garrison commander's head and spare my men!"
"Captain! How can you... guh!"
"Better I bear it all alone than the whole city slaughtered. Take care of my remaining family!"
"Caaaaptain!"
I didn't tell them to surrender with a melodrama... but fortunately or not, now I knew why they capitulated early.
And why Sofia's Muslims foamed at the mouth and fainted at my sight.
Joseph, grasping the truth too, shrugged and glanced at me with a stifled laugh.
"Kkh... heh, Your Highness, seems it's you, not me."
Arsenije, still clueless, stared at me in horror, lips quivering.
"Y-Your Highness... is what they say true...?"
"Of course not!"
Ottomans, using black propaganda like this to tarnish my image and block me from becoming Orthodoxy's protector?
As expected, they wouldn't go down easy.
Who do they think I am, Genghis Khan? Cowards.
"Pffft... s-sorry. Khh!"
Anyway, Joseph, you enjoying your lord getting framed like this? Stop laughing, you punk.