Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 082
Chapter Title: Dawn of the Empire
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Austria's reorganization of the Balkan Peninsula wrapped up surprisingly lukewarmly.
Only Bosnia and northern Serbia were subtly solidified into Austrian territory.
The rest was divided up by recalling modern maps as best as I could, while taking local sentiments and the nobles' opinions into account. Surprisingly, it all finalized smoothly.
But "smoothly" here just meant smoother than I'd expected—it wasn't like everything wrapped up without a single hitch.
"Your Highness! No matter how I think about it, our Serbia raised the banner of independence first alongside Austria. We should get a bit more territory..."
"Hey, you shameless bastards! You've eaten plenty already—what more do you want? Your Highness! We Greeks are the ones who truly need more land. Greece is the cradle of European civilization, so naturally..."
"Cut the bullshit! Your Highness, we Bulgarians are the bulwark holding back the Ottomans, who could invade again at any moment. To do that, we need even more territory and power!"
These were the same people who'd spouted lines like, "Independence is all we need—once we're free, we'll cast aside all greed and live simply."
Yet here they were, still clamoring for just one more scrap of land even after borders were set and they'd secured seats in parliament.
Of course, I'd expected as much, so my stomach didn't ache over it.
Expect nothing, and you'll never be betrayed.
Cooing and soothing them at a time like this would only make them bolder.
Threatening with guns and swords would look bad, so the right incentives were needed.
"The first to sign will receive a ten-year imperial tax exemption, a security guarantee treaty, and waivers on tariffs and tolls."
"Serbia, Austria's staunchest ally, raises its hand first!"
"The Grand Duchy of Bulgaria planned to sign from the start!"
"Big brother! This little Greek brother kneels before you."
Even inside the Holy Roman Empire's framework, it didn't mean an absolute shield.
The Empire had only recently started responding a bit faster to invasions, and even then, how many times had that actually happened?
Infighting and massive bloodbaths were still less than a century old.
Countries like Bulgaria shared a border with the Ottomans, so their anxiety was only natural.
Once Austria offered direct security guarantees and economic support, they signed the agreements competitively, as if they'd never whined at all.
The law of the jungle in the 18th century, indeed.
"I actually prepared a few more incentives beyond this, but I never thought it'd end at step one."
"...Huh? For real? I figured it'd wrap up like this naturally."
"...Huh?"
Maria Theresa, who had watched every procedure finalize alongside me—from parliamentary seats to borders—now looked at me like she couldn't understand.
"No matter how endless human greed is, those people down there have no choice but to trust and follow you, the one who brought them independence."
"True, but... ah, never mind. You're right."
Her cynical response made me realize my 21st-century OS had applied the wrong filter again.
I'd grown up in an era steeped in nationalism, so that bias was ingrained naturally. But nationalism hadn't truly taken root here yet.
It existed in traces, sure, but personal and family security came far ahead of it.
"Besides, honestly speaking, these Balkan states just got independence handed to them on a platter. If they wanted to claim more rights, they should've fought for it themselves. They're in no position to complain when you draw borders at swordpoint."
Independence not won by their own strength, territory sliced up by a great power... ugh, my head hurts.
"Even so, I did my best to consider cultural distributions and ethnic makeup."
"Exactly why it wrapped up so well. Parliament's probably saying something like, 'He went all out for those Balkan states—must have a real soft spot for them.'"
Grateful words, but their praise doesn't help.
They're the ones oblivious to the cold water slowly heating up around them.
The ice has already melted, and the water's on the verge of boiling—yet they're cheering?
"Anyway, the Balkans are fully settled now, and parliament's on board with my decisions. Know what's next?"
"Venice?"
"Spot on. You know how we're sweet-talking them for now, but they've got their own thoughts, so they won't relax just from words."
People are drawn more to pleasing words than rational ones, but states are different.
Especially a declining power like Venice—it turns into a frightened porcupine bristling with quills at everyone.
Now that we can pressure them by land, Venice has nothing to fear from us directly. Still, discarding their influence outright would be a huge waste.
"Theresa, what do you think we should do with Venice long-term?"
"Huh? You're handing it to me? Why not handle it yourself?"
"I've got my reasons. I want to hear what approach you'd suggest, even if I handle the diplomacy."
"Oh~ Testing me? Takes me back. You'd throw scenarios at me back then, and I'd rack my brain day and night, digging through books for ideal solutions."
Yeah. The girl who'd light up like she'd conquered the world from a head pat had grown into a proper lady, eyes sparkling before me.
Head pats won't cut it for right answers anymore—what should I do instead?
"In my view, using force or leveraging our influence for pressure is a last resort. It might work short-term, but your goal is expanding the Empire's fold, right? Starting harsh now would make winning over the Italian states tougher, no?"
"Exactly."
If we want to truly become Rome, how do we swallow Rome itself?
This Roman obsession isn't vanity or self-satisfaction—it's about implanting a Roman imperial identity in the people before nationalism sweeps Europe.
So crushing Venice must be a final option, and Theresa grasped my policy perfectly.
My wife, indeed.
"First, we need to offer real protections to ease their minds. Just convince them their lifeline won't be cut, and they'll cooperate."
Not bad, but only about 60 points. Just as I wondered if I'd have to micromanage everything forever...
"Long-term, we design treaties to siphon off most of their finances and tariff revenues. I don't have specifics yet, but we could dangle duty-free access to the Balkans and bait them with new factories for woolens or glass in northern Italy."
Out popped words that could be from a British ambassador or a Holy Roman archduchess.
The empty-nest feeling of a mother bird sending her chick off.
Excellent work, Theresa. Teacher has nothing left to teach.
"Perfect. I'll assign Wertheimer to you—brainstorm how we can strip away Venice's influence entirely over time."
The urgent wars were done, and I'd confirmed Theresa's insight had leveled up enough. Now I could move to the next phase.
About 12 years so far—long if long, short if short.
Through every means, I'd laid the political, diplomatic, and economic foundations.
Now it was time to forge them into real power.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ In 1738, the Austria-Russia alliance's war with the Ottomans came to a complete end.
Russia finally claimed the long-coveted Azov, heralding the start of its Black Sea fleet. The Christian states of the Balkans gained their dreamed-of independence.
The Ottomans, stripped of past glories, writhed like a terminally ill patient. Our British and French allies didn't miss the golden opportunity.
Meanwhile, the Holy Roman Empire recovered northern Italy, extended into the Balkans, and entered its greatest prosperity since founding.
But as heads multiply, the body veers toward ruin; with a warm back and full belly, thoughts abound—that's human nature.
Great victory had blinded them for now, but the Holy Roman Empire's essence remained largely unchanged.
A special committee under the Imperial Diet had been granted real power, but the road ahead was still far too long.
"Word is the Venice agreement was a smashing success. And Theresa pulled it off?"
"Yes. To avoid painting her as a schemer, I handled the execution, but it's her brainchild all the same."
Charles VI and Eugène de Savoie, lightly sipping coffee, took my words in stride without much surprise, calmly lifting their cups again.
"Makes sense. You've been grooming her since she was a kid, so it's about time she starts resembling you. She's my daughter, but sometimes she scares me lately."
"That's a compliment, right?"
"Of course it is. No one's more fit to succeed the Habsburgs. I don't regret not having a son at all now."
Charles VI smiled in satisfaction, and Eugène nodded vigorously in agreement.
"Archduchess Theresa will go down as the greatest Habsburg ruler in history. Her talents are exceptional, and she'll have such a reliable partner by her side."
"I think so too. On that note, Your Majesty, may I proceed with the request I made?"
"Hm... I did read it. You want to personally lead a weapons research facility? Think you can handle it? You've succeeded with the platinum works and glass workshops, so you clearly have the talent, but..."
It's not just talent—it's my literal expertise.
Too busy until now to use it properly, but I was a 21st-century mechanical engineering PhD who'd climbed the ranks in a research institute.
If I poured in time and resources, boosting Austria's military strength would be straightforward.
I'd held off not for lack of short-term gains, but because improving the nation's fundamental structure took priority.
Now, with external wars wrapped and Theresa fully capable, I finally had bandwidth for this.
"If you're researching weapons... what exactly? Cannons? Muskets?"
"Muskets are the easiest to tackle right now. I'd like to aim for results in two years, but that'll require significant funds and manpower. That's why I seek Your Majesty's pre-approval."
"Two years? Improvements that fast?"
"Yes. We need time for stable military supply after that."
My loaded words made both men's brows shoot up in unison.
"Why rush new rifles to the army?"
"Obviously..."
By then, we'd need them in action.
"As our power grows, checks will come from all sides."
"Checks? No foreign threats for the foreseeable... France is sharpening its blades, but you said they'd need another decade to challenge us alone."
"Yes, exactly as Your Majesty says."
"Then what..."
Charles VI's face froze mid-question as he drew a deep breath.
"...Absurd. With imperial authority at its strongest, who in the Empire would start a dispute?"
"Your Majesty, forgive my impertinence, but..."
I hesitated a moment on whether to say it, but I had no choice.
He was the Emperor; he had the right to know where this Empire was headed.
"A dispute must arise."
"......What?"
"Your Highness, what do you..."
True Romans treat civil wars like folk festivals, so this is an inevitable step to becoming Rome... no, of course not.
"The Empire's territory has expanded, our national power strengthened, but our political system remains stuck in backwardness. The committee is a stopgap. For Rome to become the Empire, the Emperor must seize full control of the Diet and instill the idea that this is one unified realm."
Instead of shouting, the Emperor set down his coffee and fetched a bottle of liquor.
Eugène silently poured for him, then downed his own glass repeatedly.
In that heavy silence, the Emperor's and Eugène's eyes began to gleam with realization.
"Son-in-law, have a drink."
"Yes, father-in-law."
It would diverge sharply from original history, but Austria displaying overwhelming force in the coming war.
It was the final piece to perfect the Empire as an empire.