The Noble Marauders (1)

For a while, I tried to keep my distance from the ultra-left adventurist revolutionaries. In truth, those revolutionaries advocating for a total overhaul of the political system distanced themselves from me anyway, without me having to lift a finger.

"The eight-hour workday is a shameful concession begged from the capitalists! It is a reactionary plot to destroy the workers' revolutionary will!"

"Our primary and ultimate goal is a completely equal society! Even acknowledging the existence of the feudal imperial family is a disgrace to any true communist!"

They had filtered themselves out nicely, yet this fellow Lenin kept coming around to needle me at every turn.

"Comrade Stahl, your method is merely an attempt to integrate the workers' progressive struggle into the market."

"...The people are on the verge of starving to death right now, and you're still singing about revolution?"

"That is precisely the sign that a revolution is about to erupt!"

"Yes, yes. I understand perfectly that socialists like you, Comrade Lenin, are cold-blooded, tearless psychopaths who would happily close their eyes even if the very workers they claim to protect starve to death."

At first, perhaps frustrated by losing our debates, he would spend all day flipping through Das Kapital until he came up with a plausible theory, then rush over to my house to refute me. But what could I do? It's quite embarrassing for a former philosophy major in my past life, but to be completely honest, I had never actually read Das Kapital.

Though I was pushed back in our debates initially, I got an idea after watching Hitler and Lenin argue.

"No matter how spontaneously the workers try to struggle, a revolutionary consciousness can never develop without the leadership of the intellectual class. Do you understand?"

"Ah! So you mean the inherently foolish masses can never awaken on their own, so they must be led by blue-blooded aristocrats?"

"...That is not what I meant."

"Oh, but it is! I had no idea Comrade Lenin supported Representative Stahl so passionately!"

"To explain ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this, we must first look at the reality of the spontaneous labor movement..."

"Does Comrade Lenin like Napoleon Bonaparte too, then?! Are you saying a superman on a white horse, like Napoleon, must appear to save the masses? Hmm... sounds a bit like Christ, actually."

"..."

Whenever Lenin stayed up all night polishing his sharp theoretical blades, Hitler would effectively trigger him by throwing around provocative words like Napoleon, Christ, and aristocrats.

Of course, that was thanks to Hitler's almost animalistic political intuition. But as they say, Occam's razor applies. No matter how I looked at it, Lenin's theories sounded like nothing more than: "I don't care if people die, I'm going to change the political structure and establish a dictatorship."

People say communism failed because workers had no motivation to work hard? What a joke. The workers worked incredibly hard. The real reason communism collapsed was that the communist elites, bloated with authoritarian self-importance, engaged in systemic sabotage and negligence. Call it the inherent limitation of Marxism-Leninism.

I, too, was twisting myself into knots to avoid the horrific, elite-driven Soviet-style socialism. Of course, it wasn't easy. Even Mao Zedong had devised something as terrifying as the "Cultural Revolution" to break the Soviet-style socialism that was riddled with bureaucratic incompetence.

These damn reds really have no middle ground. None at all.

At first, Lenin had been incredibly annoying, but now I found myself eagerly anticipating his visits. Lately, I had developed a taste for teasing him, calling him a psychopath and a cold-blooded machine.

In any case, having a socialist giant like Lenin planted in the Social Democratic Workers' Party headquarters like a totem pole did wonders to accelerate the reforms of the Austria-Hungary.

And it wasn't as if Lenin just sat in the party office acting like a stubborn old man all day.

"Oh? I thought you were just flapping your gums out of boredom, but you've written such a splendid thesis. What brought this on?"

"We must find the most realistic path to transition into socialism. Even I believe that the state will eventually wither away, yet here I am, fighting for a socialist 'state' for the time being."

The stubborn, bald Lenin of my memory was a grumpy, Smurf-like old man who had grown self-righteous after his successful revolution—losing all his hair in the process due to his petty, narrow-minded stress. But the Lenin of 1908 was not yet that dogmatic.

While holed up at the Social Democratic Workers' Party headquarters enjoying his hobby of verbal sparring, he paid for his room and board at my place by providing the theoretical foundation for the still-vague Stahl-Ferdinand Model.

Lenin for theory. Hitler for agitation. Wittgenstein for capital. Ferdinand for authority. And me as the leader! What kind of absurd combination was this?

Regardless, with these five, there was nothing we couldn't achieve in reforming the Austro-Hungarian Empire. And soon enough, the five eagles representing the empire would have to mobilize.

If one had to name the financial center of the world, it was undoubtedly New York. After all, the Great Depression, which would occur a few decades later, would start there. If the flow of capital seemed even slightly off, guessing New York as the source yielded a success rate of over fifty percent.

The Panic of 1907, which began in late 1907, saw the New York stock market plummet by a staggering fifty percent. Of course, it took time for the aftershocks to reach Vienna. The bubble originating from the real economy—sparked by the development of synthetic ammonia—showed no signs ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of bursting, and with the annexation of Bosnia, the political risks looming over Vienna had vanished.

However...

"Wait a minute... What are they doing?"

Stahl's eyes trembled as he scanned the newspaper. It wasn't that interest rates had spiked, nor had the exchange rates collapsed. The inflated bubble hadn't burst either.

Although there were no signs of a panic severe enough to send investors jumping into rivers like in New York, economic incidents that were hard to ignore began to crop up one after another.

In a remote corner of Hungary lived Andrássy, a feudal Hungarian noble who still lived as if he were in the seventeenth century, treating his peasants like serfs. He stared at the countless stalks of barley piled on the ground with an immensely satisfied expression.

"Another harvest! Another bumper crop! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Production has increased by fifty percent compared to last year!"

"Bwahahaha! I am rich! I reaped these rewards because I was quick to drench my fields in that fertilizer that fellow Stahl made."

While other nobles went hunting and clung to outdated notions of authority, Andrássy was different. He had moved swiftly to sign a contract with the Stahl-Wittgenstein Chemical Company to secure a massive supply of fertilizer. Thanks to this, he achieved far higher yields and profits than any of the neighboring lords.

"Heh, heh. My land will expand by half again this year."

"Excuse me, milord?"

"What is it?"

Andrássy frowned at the serf's insolence in speaking to him directly, but he quickly smoothed his expression. To continue receiving fertilizer at a discounted rate, he could not extort exorbitant rents or wages like he had a decade ago. That had been a strict condition of the contract.

"They say Baron Teleki also had a bumper crop this year."

...That country bumpkin? Well, wonders never cease.

"And Count Sárközi's yield has reportedly doubled compared to last year!"

"Doubled?"

Andrássy felt a sudden chill. "How on earth?"

"They say he bought and distributed fertilizer from another company."

A true, old-fashioned feudal lord might have been content simply seeing his granaries overflowing with barley and flour, but times had changed. Crops only held value if they could be sold for a profit. In other words, a bumper crop only truly mattered if everyone else suffered a poor harvest. Andrássy realized things were taking a very strange turn.

Andrássy's premonition proved correct. The price of barley plummeted. He took a massive financial hit and wept bitter tears. Of course, being a feudal noble with deep political connections, he would merely suffer from insomnia for the next decade; he wasn't about to dive into the Danube River just yet.

"This won't do. Send a messenger to Budapest immediately. Tell them to liquidate all the shares I invested in Rothschild Steel."

"Yes, milord."

"Ah, and pull out the money we put into the state railway project as well."

Andrássy was, after all, a cutting-edge capitalist noble. The moment the real economy faltered, he immediately began hoarding cash. But who were the ones who actually had to dive into the Danube?

"Aaaagh! The futures market is crashing! Barley futures! Wheat futures!"

"Sir? You're pulling your investment now?! We've already installed all the equipment and everything!"

"Uh... you're withdrawing your deposit? Wait! Let's have a cup of tea and talk this over calmly. Yes? What do you mean, 'cut the crap and give me my money right now'?!"

The empire's wealth flowed from the vast industrial zones of Bohemia and Vienna. Even in the twentieth century, the share of agriculture in the GDP was certainly not large enough to shake the very foundations of the state.

However, in a feudal empire like Austria-Hungary, agriculture was not the only factor. The ultimate financiers who kept the empire's sprawling industrial zones running were none other than these very same land-owning, provincial feudal nobles.

And the Hungarian nobles, who were particularly provincial, took an especially hard hit. As agriculture faltered, these feudal lords—who didn't know the first thing about finance—began withdrawing massive amounts of cash from the banks, while more progressive nobles like Andrássy pulled their investments entirely.

To summarize:

1. Fertilizer production went into full swing, causing agricultural supply to surge.

2. In accordance with the laws of supply and demand, agricultural prices plummeted.

3. Feudal nobles in Hungary, who relied on agriculture as their primary livelihood, went bankrupt, and Hungarian agriculture began to collapse.

4. As the nobles—Hungary's largest financial backers—faltered, the flow of capital in Budapest froze.

5. Once the flow of capital was blocked, various investment plans affecting the real economy were bound to be overturned.

6. Amidst this, Russia and the knockoff Yugoslavia acted up simultaneously, cutting off the influx of foreign capital.

7. At the same time, the international stock markets were paralyzed by the panic in New York.

"Shit... this is dangerous."

Why did the bourgeoisie stay silent without uttering a single peep, even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠when the Social Democratic Workers' Party pushed through all sorts of radical labor reform policies? It was because the Austro-Hungarian Empire was enjoying an unprecedented boom both domestically and internationally, and the bourgeoisie were busy sucking the sweet nectar of that prosperity.

But to Stahl, a man of the twenty-first century, it was nothing but a bubble. It didn't look much different from some trash stock on the NASDAQ soaring a thousand percent just because the internet had been invented.

The only reason Stahl had pushed forward so boldly despite knowing this was because a great war was on the horizon. The capital poured into the bubble and the resulting oversupply could simply be dumped into the war effort.

However, as Stahl rode that momentum to aggressively accelerate technological advancement, the warning signs of oversupply were starting to manifest prematurely.

Wait a minute... actually, this might not be so bad.

The panic in New York had been temporarily resolved by J.P. Morgan's emergency transfusion of capital, and the stock market, which had remained unstable, was completely reset by the outbreak of World War I.

Come to think of it, the real economy is still perfectly fine, isn't it? In fact, it's so fine that maybe I was just making a fuss over nothing calling it a bubble.

Stahl was falling into the exact same line of thinking as any retail investor trapped in a bubble. But the difference between a common retail investor and Stahl? It was akin to the difference between a Ponzi scheme and a national pension system.

If a Ponzi scheme does it, it's a global fraud. But if the national pension does it, it becomes a healthy pension policy for the welfare of the citizens. When politics became intertwined with a crisis, it operated on an entirely different dimension.

Once his thoughts reached that point, Stahl's mind eased considerably. This was a simple crisis he could escape just by shifting the blame onto the nobility—a piece of cake.

Honestly, the fact that primitive nobles who do nothing but dig in the dirt are dictating the financial world is absurd in itself.

Stahl's eyes sparkled. Come to think of it, the annexation of Bosnia had ultimately started with the Hungarian crisis, where the Hungarian nobles had thrown a tantrum and refused to cooperate. And now, the empire's minor panic had also originated from those primitive Hungarian aristocrats.

"You Hungarian bastards. I never liked you from the start. You're all finished."