The Laurels of Victory (4)
The award ceremony was a gathering of the empire's highest dignitaries, grandees, and field marshals. The decoration I was about to receive was none other than the Military Order of Maria Theresa, an honor so exclusive that only a handful of people in the entire empire had ever laid eyes on it, let alone worn it.
For a commoner, receiving this medal meant the automatic right to inherit a barony—a truly staggering level of military distinction. Of course, I already enjoyed a status far exceeding that of any mere noble in this empire. But now, I was gaining a "formal" aristocratic title to match. Naturally, I had no intention of actually claiming the title of Baronjust yet.
And the presenter? None other than Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Normally, he was a bit of an easygoing fellow who took my blunt tongue and occasional scoldings with a shrug, but today...
"Director Stahl, loyal servant of the Crown. Today, this medal does not merely commemorate the achievements of Director Stahl. This medal symbolizes the wings of reconstruction and progress upon which our Empire shall soar."
His decades of experience as the heir apparent certainly weren't just for show. Unlike me, who had always shunned innate authority, the Archduke knew exactly how to wield his birthright with effortless grace. He cut such a majestic figure that even I felt a strange swell of emotion welling up inside me.
"...Therefore, I hereby bestow the Military Order of Maria Theresa upon Marx Stahl."
Archduke Franz Ferdinand personally pinned the medal to my chest. I wasn't wearing the pike-grey uniform of the Imperial Army, but rather the stark black uniform of the Revolutionary Guard. I took a slow look around the room.
They are hostile, without a doubt. Hostile enough that something is bound to snap sooner or later.
The imperial military brass, led by Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, were glaring at me with eyes that could kill. In truth, neither Conrad nor the countless aristocratic officers were completely brainless reactionaries—aside from their infuriating habit of ordering mindless infantry charges, that is.
The Austro-Hungarian Empire was, at its core, a multi-ethnic realm. Even as aristocrats, they couldn't have survived without at least a modicum of flexibility. Just look at the Russian Empire, where many nobles still possessed minds firmly rooted in the late 1700s. The very fact that the German and Austro-Hungarian Empires had survived the raging winds of revolution proved they weren't entirely comprised of stubborn, archaic fools. Some of them possessed identities far too complex to be defined solely by the aristocratic von in their names.
And yet... The problem is that my interests directly overlap with theirs. That's the source of all this venom. Of course they hated me. I returned a silent declaration of war to the men burning holes into me with their stares.
"In this war, the blood of countless young men has been spilled," I spoke aloud. "I will ensure that their sacrifice was not in vain."
It was a direct shot at the aristocrats who didn't even bother to minimize casualties. Aside from me, the other recipients—including Adolf Hitler and the absent Joseph Stalin—were all prominent figures of Stahlism.
"...And I bestow this order upon Svetozar Boroević von Bojna, who defended the Italian front like an impregnable fortress."
Svetozar was practically the only traditional aristocrat to receive the Military Order of Maria Theresa today. But if anyone deserved it, it was him. The Lion of Isonzo, wasn't he? From the beginning of the war to its end, I had never personally interfered with the Italian front. The border with Italy was brutal, mountainous terrain. While the Italian army was mindlessly throwing its poor soldiers into the meat grinder of the Isonzo River to die...
...Austria-Hungary would have suffered just as terribly had we gone on the offensive there. Svetozar was the one performing miracles on that treacherous border. What's more, he wasn't even part of the dominant German-Austrian military clique; he was of Croatian descent—a Yugoslav. I gave a respectful nod to Svetozar as he received his medal. He returned the gesture with a polite bow of his head. Yes, I should definitely scratch this man's name off my hit list.
After the award ceremony concluded, I met privately with Archduke Franz Ferdinand.
"...Director Stahl, did you see the way they looked at you?"
"They looked ready to commit murder with their eyes alone."
"And who can blame them? The only regular military officer to receive a medal was Svetozar von Bojna. And even General Svetozar is Croatian. Meanwhile, your Revolutionary Guard practically swept the rest of the awards."
It was no wonder Conrad, a man notorious for his obsession with collecting medals, was absolutely livid. But...
"His Majesty the Kaiser does not wish to stir up trouble. Frankly, neither do I."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"We are in the middle of a war, after all. And having raised Hitler and Stalin myself... I've realized that grooming capable generals is no easy task."
War makes heroes. Both Hitler and Stalin had grown into fine commanders by cutting their teeth in minor skirmishes across Hungary, Bosnia, and Greece, all while managing the massive apparatus of the Agricultural Cooperative. Yet, even with my cheat-like future knowledge, churning out brilliant military minds on demand was a monumental challenge. In fact, even I, Hitler, and Stalin had shown our fair share of inexperience during large-scale field battles.
When it came to pure military administration, even Conrad deserved his title of "mastermind." Our shortcomings stemmed entirely from our lack of formal military academy training and raw experience. Stalin was manageable, but Hitler was, by nature, a career politician. This was a gap that wouldn't be bridged for years. For now, Hitler had temporarily stepped down from his post in the Revolutionary Guard to oversee the production bases in Hungary.
"Hmm..."
"There's no need to poke a hornet's nest. It would be wiser to lay the groundwork gradually."
"In what way?"
"Oh, there are plenty of ways. We could open up the military academies to commoners, or perhaps offer opportunities to non-German officers who have been marginalized by the dominant Austrian clique."
My ultimate goal was to render the class system entirely obsolete, reducing it to a mere formality—much like modern-day Britain.
"True. The nobility's influence in the civilian sector has already dwindled to a negligible level."
"Exactly. And we must reform the military in the same fashion."
The influence of the Agricultural Cooperative, the Revolutionary Guard, and the political parties had grown colossal. Though many aristocrats still lingered in the imperial court, Austria had moved past the era where bureaucrats dictated everything. Now, nothing could be accomplished without the cooperation of capitalists, labor unions, political parties, and various civilian organizations aligned with Stahlism. It had happened so gradually, so naturally.
"Specifically, the Agricultural Cooperative. That is the key. Currently, the cooperative is only fully operational in Bosnia and Hungary, is it not?"
Most aristocrats were essentially wealthy landlords who lived off the soil, inheriting their power and riches through ancestral estates. We had to strip them of their economic leverage over the land, whether through the Agricultural Cooperative or by establishing some sort of land development corporation.
"I have absolutely no intention of dismantling capitalism. I've given it a great deal of thought, and there is simply no system more efficient."
"I agree on that front. Though capitalism certainly has its fair share of flaws."
"Indeed. And do you know what the greatest of those flaws is? Land! We must transition to a system where land is owned by the state, even if we have to employ Marxist methodologies to achieve it."
Having lived through the twenty-first century, I knew this all too well. Ah, the twenty-first century feels like a distant memory now. In any case, while capitalism bred many evils—such as grueling working hours—none of its flaws were as devastatingly apparent as real estate. It was a cancer that actively choked the very efficiency capitalism was praised for.
The efficiency of capitalism lies in allowing entrepreneurs to compete freely, letting the market decide, and churning out more goods. To produce better products in greater quantities, entrepreneurs will do whatever it takes, resulting in overwhelming productivity. But what about landlords? People claim landlords reap just rewards through "foresight" and investment. But in reality, when the state or a corporation busts its back to build a railway station or a factory, the landlord simply sits back and rakes in the unearned profits. That in itself is a massive issue, but there is an even greater problem.
"Land is an essential resource. Without it, you can neither produce goods nor build homes."
"True."
"If an individual monopolizes electricity, water, or railways, the public's livelihood is instantly ruined."
"...But hasn't humanity always lived that way? I didn't think it caused any major issues."
"The real crisis will erupt long after Your Imperial Highness has passed."
Just look at New York rents in my past life—easily soaring past two or three thousand dollars. Left unchecked, rent would skyrocket to the point where people would have to commute three hours to work. After all, land is a finite resource.
"Must we fix that already?"
"Once Your Highness is gone, and I am gone, and my children are gone... that is when the problem will become truly catastrophic."
"Even so..."
"Besides, we need a good excuse to 'subdue' the land-rich nobility anyway."
Yes, land reform! One way or another, we had to deal with the aristocrats' estates. And in the process, we had to prevent real estate from spiraling out of control. We spent a long time hammering out the guidelines for this reform.
"Then... when do we make our move?"
"How much longer can His Majesty the Kaiser live? He is already over eighty and can barely move."
If I recalled correctly, the Kaiser would pass away in 1916 at the ripe old age of eighty-six. He had ruled the empire for sixty-eight years, remaining its ultimate symbol. We had about two years left.
"Then in the meantime..."
"We must continue to build our strength. So that the very moment Your Highness... becomes His Majesty, we can strike immediately."
"How much longer can His Majesty the Kaiser possibly live?"
"And what happens the moment Archduke Franz Ferdinand ascends the throne?"
"...We are finished. With that treacherous snake Stahl whispering in his ear, we are utterly doomed!"
"Look at the German Empire! Look at what happened to Hindenburg! We are actually the lucky ones. If even Wilhelm II suffered such a fate, imagine what will happen to us in Austria!"
The German-Austrian nobility was in an absolute frenzy after the award ceremony. The preparations for the triumphal march had already made one thing painfully clear: aristocratic imperial bureaucrats were being stripped of their authority to the point of having to bow to street rabble from the likes of the SS and the Saint Stahl Committee.
This award ceremony was a grim omen that even the military—the traditional sanctuary of the nobility—was about to be overrun by the Stahlists.
"Field Marshal Conrad! His Majesty the Kaiser... is far too frail to involve himself in the daily affairs of the state."
"Lately, he has been neglecting even military matters. If there is ever a window of opportunity, it is now."
In the Austro-Hungarian Empire, not a single soldier could be moved without the Kaiser's explicit authorization. But the current situation was different. The Kaiser was so decrepit that he had done nothing but stare blankly during the award ceremony. Official events were already being attended by Archduke Franz Ferdinand in his stead. Which meant...
"You absolute lunatics! Shut your mouths this instant!"
At the treasonous murmurs of the German-Austrian nobles, Conrad snatched an ashtray and hurled it against the wall. He might have been a cold-blooded butcher with zero talent for actual field command, but he was far from brainless.
"Are you suggesting we follow the path of Russia and Serbia?!"
"...Well, not in so many words, but..."
"Yes, you want to launch a coup, kidnap the Kaiser, and take over! And what do you think will happen to the empire then?"
To cast aside a Kaiser who had held the throne for over sixty years—a man who had literally become the state itself—was sheer madness. Even in his decrepitude, if the Kaiser summoned his remaining strength, he could easily have every single one of them executed.
A coup did not end with simply marching an army in and turning the country upside down. Look at what the Russian National Revolutionary Party did after their coup. They risked the fall of St. Petersburg just to hurl their entire army into Warsaw, all to paint themselves as "patriots." And that strategy had been remarkably successful, garnering far more support than the disorganized rabble of the Russian White Army.
"Do not act rashly. Now is not the time."
"If now is not the time, then when...?"
"Who is to say the next Kaiser will definitely be Franz Ferdinand?"
"Ah! Then...!"
"Indeed. By my estimation, His Majesty has less than two years left. We must gather our strength until then. And besides..."
"Yes?"
"Monarchy is an outdated concept. We might do well to take a page out of Stahl's and Wilhelm II's books."
The Austrian nobility had watched Stahl's reforms unfold right before their eyes. Their thinking was surprisingly flexible. Did it absolutely have to be an absolute monarchy? If it meant preserving their power, they were perfectly willing to embrace Marxism, or an English-style constitutional monarchy. And if not that? The military itself could simply become "true" Stahlists. After all, wasn't there that bizarre concept of the Armed Cooperative Alliance?
"We, too, must begin cultivating the image of reformers. Let us spend this time winning over the hearts of the people."
Thus, reactionaries and reformers alike found themselves counting down the days to the Kaiser's death.
The triumphal march. It had been conceived by Stahl merely as a tool to drum up public support for the war. Yet, contrary to his intentions, it had become a grand stage that clearly demonstrated the new generation's absolute dominance over the old.
And with that, the triumph drew to a close.