Half-Baked Revolution
The news of the revolutionary government's failed negotiations spread like wildfire across Austria. People were already on edge about basic survival, but the biggest reason was that the fiasco had unfolded in a public place anyone could witness.
Had it happened behind closed doors at Schönbrunn Palace or the French embassy, the rumors might not have spread at all—or at least not so quickly. But the front of the French embassy was an open space visible to ordinary folk.
"The French ambassador wasn't entirely wrong. They're all the same breed—aren't the revolutionaries just pinning the blame on the emperor for no reason?"
Naturally, the farce at the embassy gates spread too.
"Those power-hungry upstarts have finally stirred up real trouble!"
Lumpen, who had been hiding out of fear of power struggles, sighed in dismay at the news. But there was nothing he could do. The current revolutionary government's deputies were elites of assassination, the ones who had clawed their way up through Vienna's brutal nights, winning every vicious political brawl.
"France is spreading lies to crush our revolution!"
Unable to quell domestic discontent, the revolutionary government resorted to outright fabrication, bold as brass.
"Austrian people! What did we learn under Joseph Adam? That power concentrated in one person dooms a nation. But the monarchies fear this truth we've awakened to."
The deputies, who had seized their seats through intrigue, might lack political acumen, but they excelled at riling up the masses.
"Absolute power corrupts absolutely. A republic cuts out the rot to prevent corruption. Yet the surrounding monarchies refuse this superior system. They deny our very existence. Why?"
The Austrian revolutionary government dumped all the blame on Europe's monarchies.
"Because of their own flimsy power! They justify their rule by claiming no one else can lead. But here we stand as living proof otherwise. Isn't Austria thriving without a monarch?"
It was diplomatic suicide for Austria, but they didn't care.
"Europe's monarchies must fear our Austrian Republic terribly. They've unilaterally broken normal trade agreements and infiltrated spies everywhere to sabotage us."
After all, it wasn't the diplomats or the revolutionary deputies who would die for it.
"That's why we're starving—they've stolen our share!"
The propaganda worked wonders on the crowds.
"Right? We were the Holy Roman Empire—Austria itself. A mere bad harvest shouldn't cripple us like this. Must be foreign meddling. Yeah, foreign interference for sure."
It was tailor-made for people clueless about crop failures, who had no idea who sparked the revolution or why they were still hungry after it ended. Dull, pedantic talk of productivity, worker morale, or capital flight couldn't compete with the simple clarion call of "foreign suppression."
"They flip opinions like pancakes. The masses are fickle as porridge on the boil."
Basking in the applause of the gathered crowds in the squares, the revolutionary government issued denunciations across Europe.
In modern times, nations could lob denunciations at will under some pretext. But in the 18th century, it was different. Only a hegemon had the freedom to denounce. Politics played a role, but the real reason was that denunciations were casus belli for war.
No matter how much you denounced, the loser of the war—the one writing "We were wrong" in the peace treaty—bore all the blame. That was the era's common sense.
"Your Majesty. Right after the denunciation, Austria seized our embassy. Ambassador Crua and the diplomats have been arrested and imprisoned."
That's why they could pull such an outrageous stunt. If they won the war, it could be spun as "what had to be done."
Assuming they won, of course.
"They've got guts spilling out."
"Shall we punish them?"
Even amid the chaos of its own revolution, original France could thrash all Europe because of its sheer weight class. Napoleon was a genius general, sure, but no commander could win without troops and supplies. Even that Napoleon sucked his thumb in Moscow when his logistics collapsed.
"No. Watch and wait for now. The Foreign Ministry will counter-denounce Austria and rally Europe's consensus. Seizing an embassy gives us more than enough justification."
Still, preparations had to be thorough. You never knew—a genius surpassing Napoleon might emerge.
"What's the situation in Venice?"
"Peaceful. Thanks to that young officer Napoleon, recommended by the Comptroller General, there's little for anyone but the artillery to do."
Well, no one could beat the real deal. Even if Napoleon was just a 19-year-old lieutenant, France was a mature superpower.
"Things are about to heat up. Dispatch reinforcements to Venice—two divisions, 20,000 men. Compose the support force mainly of infantry and cavalry, matching the existing expeditionary force's branch ratios."
"The standard division ratio of 70% infantry, 15% cavalry, 10% artillery, 5% engineers?"
"That'll do."
Even if this timeline's Napoleon lacked the original Revolution's experience, France's scale would more than cover it.
"Any other opinions?"
"Your Majesty. May the Army Ministry speak?"
"Granted."
Above all, France had battle-hardened generals like Lafayette, even without Napoleon.
"We wish to share Lieutenant Colonel Napoleon's provisional achievements across the army."
"What's this?"
Just as I was feeling reassured, Lafayette had his secretary deliver hundreds of pages of documents.
"Lieutenant Colonel Napoleon's achievements. From records of hundreds of minor skirmishes, he's refined the Gribeauval system."
The documents included diagrams of predicted impact points based on calculations, Gribeauval firing specs, and Napoleon's own field-measured data from live bombardments.
"This isn't the Gribeauval system. Units, formulas, approach—it's all different."
Honestly, it was unexpected. Even for Napoleon, at 19, I figured he'd just be gaining experience, not producing results like this.
"He's broken free of the Gribeauval framework. We should call it the Napoleon system. Verification results?"
"Yes. Army verification deems the records reliable. We couldn't test extreme weather, but rain, high winds, calm, headwinds—all verifiable in Paris—match perfectly."
I'd underestimated Napoleon's talent.
"No hesitation, then. From this moment, the French artillery standard is the Napoleon system."
After all, the original Napoleon wasn't in his 30s or 40s during the Revolution either.
"Arsenal production and armory management will follow the Napoleon system. Resize powder charges and ammo crates from pounds to match."
His youth was even an asset. The new system had no trace of yards or pounds. France was awkwardly metric on paper—my decree forced it through—but in practice, things were still built to imperial measures unless critical. Not the Napoleon system.
Extra charges subdivided to 4.5g? He'd torn open two powder bags and measured to 5g increments. Range to target? Precisely in decimal meters.
"We can't let a hero like this idle. What rank do you think Napoleon deserves?"
I'd been hunting for an excuse to promote him, and here he delivered results on a platter. True greatness.
"The army is considering promoting him to his provisional rank of lieutenant colonel and sending him to the Army Doctrine Research Institute."
The Army Doctrine Research Institute—where Lafayette went right after his stars. It became elite after the American Revolution and the Hundred Days, but I had no plans to park Napoleon there.
"War's brewing—we can't waste a genius in the rear. Appoint Napoleon provisional corps commander for the Venice front. Promote his permanent rank to lieutenant colonel, provisional to lieutenant general. Geniuses like this need promotions until they go stale to squeeze out every drop."
Skills confirmed—put him where he belongs. I might not give him the throne, but I could hand him an imperial command.