The More Italies, the Better (1)
Yes, frankly speaking, even I have to admit that on the surface, there isn't much of a difference between the activities of a revolutionary and those of the mafia. However, the Sicily Agricultural Cooperative had gone entirely too far. I immediately ordered the Revolutionary Guard—who were currently pulling double duty as civil servants and soldiers—to thoroughly audit the books of the Sicily Agricultural Cooperative. The results were truly spectacular.
"So, did they inflict any meaningful damage on France and Italy? Enough for me to turn a blind eye?"
"Yes, sir. In particular, they were covertly encroaching upon the Italian economy in connection with the northern mafia."
"...Then perhaps I should let it slide?"
"Ah, but they were also encroaching upon the Austrian economy. Forty percent of the smuggling out of Sicily was directed to Austria, and thirty percent to Germany."
"Sigh."
The Sicily Agricultural Cooperative had been dabbling in various minor enterprises, such as protection rackets and contract killings. To be fair, their portfolio did include a substantial amount of actual agricultural distribution—the sort of business a cooperative is actually supposed to run. From that perspective, they possessed the potential to educate mafia soldiers and transform them directly into civil servants. However, the lion's share of their business was, unsurprisingly, smuggling. They imported goods from abroad without paying tariffs and flooded the Italian market. I could have overlooked that, but... they were paying for everything entirely in counterfeit bills. And that wasn't all. A significant portion of the massive funds used to run the cooperative itself consisted of counterfeit currency.
"Croce... you're the Planning Team Leader, correct? Care to explain yourself?"
"First of all, I'd like to point out that real currency isn't any different from counterfeit money anyway!"
"Do go on."
"Every nation currently participating in the war has suspended the gold standard. They no longer anchor their value to the physical economy of gold. Even before that, the idea that currency was backed by gold was nothing but an illusion!"
"And?"
"So, isn't the state just printing money at its own whim anyway? Our Sicily Agricultural Cooperative is a de facto government, just like the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative. That means we also have the right to dictate monetary policy!"
To be fair, Croce possessed an extraordinarily advanced understanding of currency and economics for someone living in the 1910s. Had he not just seen through the reality that governments simply print money at will? But even if I agreed with his logic one hundred percent, my scowl showed no signs of easing. Anyone in my position would feel the same.
"Let's assume you're right. Where on earth did your organization get the right to print Austrian krones and German marks?"
"......What?"
"Arrest him immediately."
"Ah—no, let me go! Currency is a scam anyway! It's a scam! How can you do this? Without us, you wouldn't have even been able to land in Sicily!"
And so, Croce was dragged away, his arms pinned by the Revolutionary Guard. And it wasn't just Croce. I had everyone locked up, from Chairman Corleone—the de facto mafia don—all the way down to the lowliest street soldiers. No matter how pragmatic I was, I couldn't exactly build a future hand-in-hand with gangsters, could I? While I was busy cleaning up Sicily, another piece of news arrived from northern Italy.
"V-Vice Chairman Shtal!"
"...Judging by your panic, it seems another disaster has struck, as usual. What is it this time?"
"The Kingdom of Italy has fallen!"
"W-What? That's sudden, but it's not necessarily bad news."
"The one who overthrew Italy is none other than Benito Mussolini!"
"This is getting worse by the second."
"And Mussolini has established a committee to govern the nation... and they've named it the 'Rome Stahlism Committee'!"
Ah. It was indeed terrible news. It was so utterly absurd that I had absolutely no idea how to react.
"Mussolini says he is sending a special envoy to the Austro-Hungarian Empire."
Only now could I truly empathize with the sheer bewilderment the established elite—the nobility, the military, and the capitalists—must have felt when I first introduced Stahlism to the world.
"Vice Chairman Shtal, w-what should we do about this?"
"...I haven't the slightest clue."
A guy who was a die-hard national revolutionary by any metric had suddenly flipped his coat and declared himself a Stahlist. Now he was sending an envoy to our empire, trying to jump onto our bandwagon. Figures like Hitler and Stalin had committed unspeakable atrocities in my original history, but in this timeline, they hadn't done anything monstrous (aside from a few bank robberies). Mussolini, however, was a completely different case. Whatever his inner thoughts might be, he was a man who had openly championed Serbia and entered the war on their side. His true intentions were highly suspect. Actually, no, they weren't suspect at all. It was hard to find someone whose true intentions were more transparent. Whether it was Stahlism or national revolution, Mussolini's only true ideology was opportunism—jumping to whichever side looked stronger and trendier.
"Vice Chairman Shtal, what will you do? We must emerge as the victors of this war regardless. And isn't our ultimate goal to install a friendly government in Italy?"
"That is true. But this leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Secretary, do we have any other alternatives?"
"...There is one, but you had him arrested a few days ago, sir."
Damn it all! Fascists versus gangsters. What kind of choice is that? Well, there was only one way left. When you don't know what to choose, sometimes the best answer is not to choose at all. The true essence of power is most beautiful when it is divided and checking itself, rather than concentrated in a single hand. Isn't that the grand premise of democracy?
In truth, Italy might be a country that, much like Yugoslavia, should never have existed in the first place. While the Italian language is grouped under a single category, the dialects spoken in the northern regions near Florence and the southern regions near Naples are vastly different. The gap between the two dialects is as wide as the difference between Spanish and Italian, making them practically different languages spoken by different peoples. Since that deep-rooted animosity between the north and south persisted well into the twenty-first century, this approach seemed perfectly viable.
Yes, let's tear Italy apart! If we split them up, they'll fight each other and hopefully normalize in the process.
"Release the mafia."
"Pardon? But, sir..."
"On the condition that the Revolutionary Guard administers military rule over them for the time being."
Honestly, this was the right call. If we arrested the members of the Sicily Agricultural Cooperative simply because they were mafia, we would have to arrest every single Sicilian. Indeed, the moment we locked up the mafia, the backlash from the local populace was immense. They were already treating our empire's Revolutionary Guard like a foreign occupying army.
"Mussolini will surely protest this!"
"So what if he does? It's too late for him to bow his head now."
"Sir?"
"Send urgent word to the Imperial Army. No matter what Mussolini does with his coup, Italy is ultimately our occupied territory."
"Which means..."
"If he wants to inherit Italy's sovereignty intact, he must also shoulder its responsibilities, including war reparations. But if he rejects Italy's sovereignty himself, those responsibilities will vanish."
And frankly speaking, having a country like Italy right next door was a burden in itself. Why go to such lengths, you ask? Because Italy was, in fact, our competitor. If Russia was our rival to the east, Italy was our rival to the west. After all, wasn't the very reason Italy embraced that bizarre ideology of national revolution in the first place to keep our empire in check? It would be best to take this opportunity to shatter our neighboring rival.
"Then..."
"We will pull the strings of both Mussolini and the mafia, effectively ruling Italy ourselves."
"B-but Vice Chairman... even so, won't this trigger a massive backlash from Britain, Germany, and the other great powers?"
"That is indeed a problem. In that case, why don't we just split Italy into several pieces?"
"What?!"
Mussolini was biting his nails raw.
"D-did I make a mistake?!"
Mussolini had detained the King of Italy and Gabriele D'Annunzio under the pretext of holding them responsible for the war. He had even conducted thorough trials to avoid drawing the ire of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Regardless, the Imperial Army continued its relentless march south. Since Mussolini had thrown the gates of the Alps wide open, marching south was no longer a difficult task.
"W-Why on earth?!"
As Mussolini agonized over the reason, he finally grasped the reality of the situation upon hearing that an official Agricultural Cooperative was being established in Sicily.
"Since there's already a real cooperative in Sicily, are they just telling me to drop dead?!"
A cold shiver ran down Mussolini's spine at the thought of being thrown into the same cell as Gabriele D'Annunzio and the King of Italy. He remembered all too clearly how Apis of Serbia had met his end. The horrific execution by electric chair was one thing, but Mussolini's childhood embarrassments—like wetting his pants—would undoubtedly be unearthed and preserved in history books for thousands of years! For a man like Mussolini, who valued honor and style above all else, that was absolutely intolerable.
"Duce Mussolini! What should we do?"
"What else can we do? We must absolve ourselves of war guilt! And we must convince Shtal that we are the 'true' Stahlists."
Just then, the advance of the Imperial Army, which had been rushing toward Rome with terrifying momentum, slowed down. Of course, this was to allow for consultations with Britain and Germany.
"T-this is our last chance!"
It was at that moment that an Austro-Hungarian spy covertly approached Mussolini with an enticing offer.
"Duce Mussolini!"
"Oh! Have you come from the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative's Audit Team? Welcome, a most hearty welcome!"
"I won't beat around the bush. There is only one way for you to escape responsibility for the war."
"And what is that?"
"The entity that started this war was the Kingdom of Italy, was it not?"
"Yes, and?"
"Are you, Duce Mussolini, truly the legitimate successor to the Kingdom of Italy? If so, you cannot escape the war guilt of the Kingdom of Italy. Rights always come with obligations."
By now, even Mussolini could tell where this was going. Abandon Italy. Instead, become the Duce of the Roman Republic. Mussolini swallowed hard at the unimaginable proposal. Only then did he realize what kind of scheme Shtal had hatched. Austria-Hungary could not swallow Italy whole; doing so would inevitably cause severe indigestion. Neither Britain nor Germany would stand by and watch. In that case, why not carve up Italy and share the spoils with the other great powers?
"T-this is madness."
"What is so mad about it?"
"This is no different from Britain and France carving up colonies in Africa! Absolutely not!"
The Hungarian spy snorted.
"Ha, do you really think so?"
"Indeed! If I agree to such a proposal, I will be branded a traitor to history for eternity!"
"Then I shall take my leave. I will head to the Vatican next."
The Hungarian spy turned and walked away without a second thought. Seeing him depart without the slightest hesitation, it was Mussolini who panicked instead.
"Y-you're just leaving like this?"
"Yes."
"W-wait! A unified Italy is far more advantageous! I have the capability! I have the power to establish a cooperative republic on the peninsula!"
"No thank you. You should run away as fast as you can. If you want to avoid a war crimes tribunal, South America is probably your best bet."
There was no room for negotiation for Mussolini, or for Italy as a whole. No matter how relatively 'moderate' Italy's national revolutionary kingdom had been compared to Russia or Serbia, they could not escape the responsibility of waging war in cooperation with Serbia and the Russian Black Army.
Shtal had not proposed this plan merely to carve up Italy. In the twenty-first century that Shtal had lived in, there were still those who occasionally romanticized fascism. Shtal believed this was because the post-WWII settlements had never been properly executed. National revolution and its adherents could not be allowed to persist in this world. History had to record exactly what happened to those who waged war under the banner of such bizarre ideologies.
"...I will choose."
"Ah, is that so?"
"Then it will be divided into Naples, Sicily, Veneto and Istria, Rome and Tuscany, and Milan and Turin. I will remain in Rome."
Thus, a mere fifty years after its unification in the mid-nineteenth century, Italy was shattered once again into five separate pieces.