Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 097
Chapter Title: Great Chaos
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Karl Albrecht's desperate gamble, staking not only the fate of the Wittelsbach family but his very position as Elector of Bavaria!
[If only the Bavarian-Palatinate allied forces can link up with the French army, we can march all the way to Vienna.]
[By putting pressure on Vienna and winning over the other electors, we can scrap all of Charles VI's plans to strengthen imperial authority. That should secure a clear majority in the imperial election.]
The Electorate of Hanover and the other principalities couldn't provide direct troop support, but they'd offered to lend mercenaries with laundered nationalities. It was clear the Habsburg court's support wasn't as solid as it seemed.
In the early days of the war, everything had gone according to plan. Albrecht felt like he'd become Julius Caesar himself.
He even pulled out a copy of Commentaries on the Gallic War and read it, brimming with confidence as he rattled off his future plans.
"Indeed, the die is cast! Franz and I were never on bad terms, but for the good health of the Empire, this was the only way!"
But his lungs, puffed up with hope, began to deflate with a pitiful hiss as bad news poured in from every direction.
First came the blow.
"Disaster! It's a disaster, Your Highness! The main force under Field Marshal Jeckendorf has been defeated by Leopold Joseph!"
"What? W-well, battles have their ups and downs. Quickly regroup the survivors and prepare for the next..."
"They're... annihilated. Field Marshal Jeckendorf was captured by an enemy detachment that cut off his retreat."
The troops Joseph had sent as a feint to block Palatinate reinforcements were no mere diversion.
Their real mission was to block the escape routes so the defeated remnants couldn't return to Munich. Jeckendorf and his officers fell right into the trap.
"What nonsense is this? How does an army of 40,000 just vanish in an instant?!"
Of course, not all 40,000 were killed or captured.
But would soldiers who watched their comrades get massacred stick around after fleeing? Especially since most weren't foreigners—they were locals from within the Empire.
They knew full well that when the tide turned, switching to Austria was their best bet for survival. Who was this Albrecht guy anyway?
In the end...
"...Why aren't they coming back? Not even the officers?!"
The nobles who'd been plotting to cut and run suddenly realized one key fact.
Nailing their Elector of Bavaria to a cross was the surest way to save their own skins.
As a result, Joseph's 17,000-man detachment left to besiege Munich found its numbers swelling instead, surpassing 20,000 before long.
-The Bavarian rebellion is condemned by university faculty as the Elector's arbitrary outrage, reflecting none of the people's will.
Even the universities that had stayed silent turned on Albrecht en masse. His imperial dreams plummeted straight to rock bottom.
"What? Surrender? Open the gates? You traitors! Send troops to Ingolstadt at once—lock down the university, round up everyone who posted those manifestos!"
Albrecht raged and issued orders, but with Munich in chaos, there were no troops left for a northern university.
In the end, all he could do was wait for French victory.
But even that...
"Your Highness! F-France... they've been annihilated at Ulm, caught in Moritz's stratagem!"
"...Again? Another loss? And total annihilation?!"
Were total annihilations really this common?
Wasn't "annihilation" reserved for the rare crushing defeat out of ten battles?
That night, under cover of darkness while all slept, Elector Albrecht of Bavaria slipped out of Munich.
It was two days after Joseph's army entered the city bloodlessly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Reports of victories at the Lechfeld Plains and Ulm arrived almost simultaneously.
Just two battles, and the war was effectively over.
More damage happens during retreats than the fighting itself.
How many of those French troops who'd pushed deep to Ulm would make it back across the Rhine?
And to reach the Rhine, they'd have to cross the infamous Black Forest.
Even if they traversed the Black Forest and crossed into France proper, Lorraine was already ours, and Alsace's fortresses were half-ruined—they couldn't hold out.
If I were in their shoes, I'd probably just drop my weapons and surrender, war be damned.
This wasn't the early 20th century with rampant nationalism. Rank-and-file soldiers had no reason to die for the king.
Carrying this joyous news of triumph, I headed to the annex where Charles VI was staying.
"Your Majesty, we've routed the French and Bavarian armies. Munich is already in our hands, and Moritz and Joseph plan to ride this momentum all the way to Paris."
"...Hohoho, is that so? March on Paris...? What did you say—Paris?!"
"We've devoured the entire French force that reached Ulm. They have no strength left to resist. We should advance swiftly and aim straight for Paris."
"Is that even possible?"
In an era with railroads, maybe. But with 18th-century logistics, no amount of effort could fill our current troop gaps.
Scrambling together a militia-level force without cannons or training? That couldn't defend a city.
Of course, Charles VI's disbelief was perfectly reasonable.
Truth be told, I hadn't expected France to crumble this thoroughly—Bavaria, maybe, but not them.
These were the same guys who'd gotten their main force crushed last war, suffering every humiliation imaginable. And now the exact same scenario again?
Well... twice in a row? Yeah, that'd do it.
"Moritz sent word that it's time to prepare and move on France. He'll stop in Munich en route, so if he wraps things up there and heads to Paris, the timing should work out."
"Paris, eh... Not a bad idea."
"Starting tomorrow, news will flood Vienna that Your Majesty has recovered and risen from your sickbed. How about a grand celebration of your health—at Versailles Palace? Shall I prepare?"
"Heh, yes. Let's take this chance to see what that Versailles they've boasted about so proudly looks like. Then maybe a hunt after all this time..."
Charles VI, looking ready to leap up, paused and scribbled something on paper.
"Franz, have the chamberlain prepare these."
"Pardon?"
Was he planning to unveil new attire in Paris?
"The Holy Roman Sword and Holy Lance, the Imperial Crown and Scepter... And request the Archbishop of Cologne to accompany us? Are you planning a coronation?"
"Exactly. We'll hold the German King coronation at Versailles. The throne's vacant now—perfect chance to elect you."
The King of the Romans ruled the German lands before becoming Holy Roman Emperor, but it was essentially the position of crown prince.
With no sons, the position was empty. Electing a King of the Romans was tantamount to naming me the next emperor.
Requesting the regalia and archbishop made it clear this was no joke. Wasn't this getting a bit out of hand?
"Don't we need the electors' consent to appoint a King of the Romans?"
"Confiscate Bavaria and Palatinate's votes yourself when you're in Munich. With Prussia and the archbishops on board, we can elect you right there—no procedural issues."
Procedurally flawless. There were precedents for elections and coronations abroad, and at Versailles? No German would refuse.
It's fitting for the future ruler of Germany. Take it or leave it.
"Not sure Louis XV will accept it."
"Then inform him our excited troops might 'accidentally' demolish Versailles Palace."
Declaring if he couldn't have it, no one would, Charles VI dove into his list of demands without restraint.
"How about a full triumph in Paris? No Holy Roman Emperor has ever achieved such a feat."
"Even if we don't do it, it'll make a fine bargaining chip."
Were Germans just wired to crave coronations or triumphs the moment they set foot in Paris?
Fascinating as it was, I couldn't outright discourage him.
After all, I was a little tempted myself.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ While Munich fell to the Austrian army and Vienna prepared for a Paris excursion...
Paris still firmly believed victory reports were incoming and kept its guard up.
"What if we need to muster more troops? Shouldn't we issue mobilization orders now?"
"Your Majesty, we've already committed 90,000 men. Pulling in more would strain the treasury too much. Better to wait."
"Hmm... Very well."
"Didn't Adrien's main army and François's detachment both cross the Rhine successfully? Excellent omens."
The fact that Adrien and François were galloping back to Paris like madmen hadn't reached them yet.
They'd sacrificed their forces too quickly.
Prussia's linear tactics had been studied thoroughly, troops drilled accordingly—no way they'd fare worse than equal against the enemy.
But of course, hopeful expectations weren't to be fulfilled.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
"What's the commotion? We're in the middle of an important council."
"The Austrians... they've crossed into Alsace!"
Regrettably, news of the army's annihilation reached Paris a day after reports of Adrien's main force racking up victories in minor skirmishes.
Versailles, cheering yesterday's string of triumphs, plunged into panic.
"What bullshit is this? They were winning! Consecutive victories!"
"The enemy cunningly held back their secret weapons, luring our forces deep to force a pitched battle..."
"A-and? How bad are the losses? If Alsace is breached, concentrate troops at the intermediate fortresses..."
"All the cannons fell into enemy hands... Even reorganizing, we won't have 30,000..."
A rout normally scatters troops, sure—but how does 90,000 suddenly drop below 30,000?
And lose every single cannon?
Louis XV, on the verge of fury, felt his blood freeze instead.
Wait... This wasn't just a repulse. Could they even defend Paris?
Reports claimed the enemy numbered over 100,000, with musket ranges three times ours. Unbelievable.
Damn them. Fine for the numbers, but musket range tripling overnight?
After such a crushing defeat, they even falsified reports to dodge the blame—how could they lack even basic competence?
Louis XV wanted to cry, but cold reality demanded focus.
The Austrians were coming.
With nearly double the cannons and undiminished troops intact.
Abandon Paris... and flee? Flee where?
Louis XV's soul fled his body.