Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 094
Chapter Title: Declaration of War (2)
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The prestige of the Habsburg imperial family had already reached its absolute peak.
It wasn't just riding high these days.
With the Balkan Peninsula firmly under its vassal states, the Holy Roman Empire now boasted the widest territory in its history.
And that was just the beginning. The emperor had become the first in history to directly assault Constantinople, and he'd even claimed victory against France, long considered Europe's strongest power.
Factor in the Spanish War of Succession from before, and the Habsburgs were literally on an unstoppable rise—winning every fight they picked.
It wasn't merely about martial prowess. He'd eradicated smallpox, earning the Pope's blessing, and was pushing a pro-citizen policy to vaccinate the entire populace.
Even better, the regent standing in for the ailing emperor was a successor so stunningly beautiful that representing the nation felt like a point of pride.
It'd be weirder if anyone hated them.
"You're not planning to head to the front lines yourself this time? I've been secretly on edge, worrying you might."
"Last time, I had no choice for the sake of victory. Besides, leaving my pregnant wife behind to go to war? My father-in-law wouldn't let that slide."
I slid my bishop across the chessboard, putting her knight in jeopardy, and her mischievous grin faltered just a bit.
"Nice move. You've been losing every game lately—sharpened your skills, have you?"
"Losing all the time gets old for me too. Gotta let you win sometimes."
"In your dreams. While you were away from Vienna, I studied chess like crazy—what do you take me for?"
She stared down at the board, then advanced a pawn on the opposite flank instead of defending her knight.
It looked like a loss now, but down the line...
> My queen would be in trouble.
I wasn't this good in my past life. Damn you, Friedrich—you turned my wife into a chess demon!
Thanks to you, I'm her daily punching bag.
"Ugh... this is no fun. Chess is such a garbage game—you can never win if there's a big skill gap."
"Isn't that normal? If there's a skill gap, you lose."
"Not like war. No matter the power difference, some wildcard can always flip it."
History was full of underdogs devouring far superior foes.
"...So doesn't that make this war risky too? We shouldn't be sitting here playing chess so casually."
"Relax. Maybe next time, but not this one."
This wasn't arrogance. If Moritz and Josef's Austrian forces lost to the French alliance, it'd be a catastrophe on par with a natural disaster.
No long expeditions here—the fighting would stay along the Rhine region.
Supply lines were solid. Officer corps were top-notch, soldier morale sky-high, weapons fully stocked.
Unless the earth split open and swallowed our troops alone, or a plague wiped out tens of thousands of ours specifically, defeat was unimaginable. And if that happened?
I couldn't change the tide either way, so I'd stay put and tend to my pregnant wife.
Maria Theresa eyed me intently, then blinked.
"But do you really think we can take Paris?"
"Hmm... hard to say. You think it's impossible?"
"Common sense says so, right? France has only lost Paris once, during the Hundred Years' War. Even then, Burgundy sided with England. Since France became what it is now, they've never lost the city."
Was this the gap between 18th- and 21st-century mindsets?
Ah, right— to people of this era, Paris was an impregnable fortress, never to fall.
Makes sense. Even in defeat, Europe's top power losing its capital to enemies wasn't easy to picture.
France's Six Weeks Myth had overshadowed that in my mind.
But that meant everyone in this era thought like Theresa.
Which explained Britain and the Netherlands boldly declaring neutrality to watch and wait.
"A lot of jaws are gonna drop when the lid flips open."
"Hmm... you're so confident, there must be something else."
"Nah, what secrets would I hide from you?"
Even as I said it, I quietly swapped my pawn and rook positions on the board.
Or I'd hit a 13-game losing streak.
"Don't believe me? Wanna bet? I'll put money on Paris falling before year's end."
"Come on—even you can't think it'll happen this year. So I'll bet it drags past next year at earliest? What do I get if I win?"
"One favor each, whatever we want."
Theresa eagerly accepted, then tilted her head at the tampered board.
Rare chance—what to ask of her?
Believe it or not, France's Six Weeks legend kicked off now.
Let's all sit back and enjoy the show.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Not just Britain expected a brutal slugfest between France and Austria.
In Berlin, Friedrich paced anxiously, grilling his ministers on the war.
"...No clue what their plan is. Even with expanded forces, Austria can't guarantee victory alone."
"His Highness Franz said they have a powerful new weapon to secure victory."
"That new rifle they're deploying? Probably just ten percent more range at best."
Prussia was an ally, so they knew Austria was cranking out new guns like mad.
Yet oddly, no one knew exactly how superior they were.
Austria had guarded the info so tightly, even the troops receiving them were in the dark.
Still, mass-producing tens of thousands in short order suggested better performance than the old ones.
"France won't ignore Austria's new rifles—they'll prepare accordingly and send their troops. That's why I can't make sense of it... Austria's got talented commanders too."
"Your Majesty, I met Franz and his aide Josef at Eugene's funeral. They're no pushovers. They know all that and still bet on victory."
"Exactly— that's what I can't figure out."
Friedrich was an undisputed military genius.
Which made Franz's scheme all the harder to guess.
Even if he led the army himself, he lacked confidence in beating a fully committed French force without massive losses.
Not that he'd lose outright, but they'd studied his oblique order from last war.
Tactical edges from command skill had limits.
"Won't His Highness share any plans with Your Majesty?"
"He did. Just not how Austria wins—just to act once they smash the French."
Neither Friedrich nor Prussia's field marshal Leopold of Anhalt-Dessau could fathom Franz's boundless confidence.
Brainstorming yielded no tactic for Austria to crush France outright.
So it had to be some strategic masterstroke. What wild gambit?
Maybe Franz staying in Vienna was the key.
Friedrich resolved to exhaust every ounce of imagination predicting it.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ French field marshal Adrien Maurice de Noailles savored the cool Rhine breeze, surveying the freshly captured Kehl-Breisach landscape.
A logistics expert on the Rhine front for years, his goal was simple: cross the Kehl-Breisach stretch with 48,000 troops and punch straight into Austrian territory.
François de Franquetot's 25,000 would swing around Alsace plains to counter any threats.
Total forces: nearly 90,000.
They'd abandoned the Alps— Austria held all key forts there—concentrating everything here.
This wasn't just numbers. France had bet everything on revenge.
Adrien had begged Louis XV for full command authority.
Staff and field officers picked purely on merit, not connections. Troops drilled relentlessly.
All to smash those hated Austrians and reclaim French glory.
"Austrian movements? Still barely stirring?"
"Scouts say they're finally scrambling."
"Sluggish. Without Eugene, that's all they've got."
Moritz de Saxe.
> No—Hermann Moritz now, was it?
Promising talent in French service, they'd said.
But now... just a mediocre commander?
"How'd he shine against the Ottomans? Overhyped?"
"Actually, Josef—Eugene's disciple—earned the real credit there. He's on another front."
"I was wary since they put Eugene's pupil against our homeland push... but maybe they're plotting something."
Any strategist worth salt knew France would cross at Kehl-Breisach.
Yet Austrian forces just watched.
Not without resistance—garrison troops fought desperately, but 50,000 French overwhelmed them.
Some trap? Nah, their panic now screamed caught off-guard.
"Or maybe overeagerness dulled his edge."
"Accounts from joint campaigns say Moritz excels in mobility and terrain defense."
"...Mobility? Terrain defense? Too late for either."
If the hype held, he'd have blocked crossings with mobile forces, using terrain to bleed them dry.
Instead? Brain freeze from hype?
Adrien advanced cautiously, finally breaching enemy stockades for first clash.
Tatata-tang!
"General! Vanguard destroyed twenty Austrian ammo wagons! They're abandoning stockades and retreating!"
"Our losses?"
"Higher than expected from their accurate fire, but not glaring."
Ninety minutes of skirmishing: around 1,000 casualties including dead and wounded.
A bit heavy for a vanguard, but wild blind fire from range snagged them.
Such bad luck happened; Adrien shrugged it off.
"Heard Austria mass-produced new rifles—see any in that fight?"
"Some had them, but nothing devastating. Our extra hundred casualties were tolerable."
"Yeah, if those rifles packed real punch, losses would've been way worse."
Sending the vanguard first was to probe the new rifles' range and power.
If superior, revise plans.
Result? "Not that threatening."
Even if all damage came from new rifles—not blind shots—they were just marginally better.
"Good. Resume advance. Keep scouts out—they might flank anytime."
"Yes, sir!"
Austria might aim to stalemate here, smashing Bavaria and the Palatinate first.
Then pressing aggressively could pay off strategically.
Enemy commander seemed underwhelming—could rout him?
Even full battle... winnable?
Stacked small victories bred growing confidence in Adrien's heart: they could do this.
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