The development of events often has two sides. While the economic crisis ravaging the European continent led to political turmoil, it also accelerated the establishment of the Vienna System. As gunfire rang out in Lyon, the French government found itself caught in both internal and external crises. Meanwhile, the flourishing Italian independence movement pushed the once-mighty French Empire to the brink of collapse. To change its unfavorable political and diplomatic situation, France urgently needed a stable international environment. The French government had no choice but to make concessions on the issue of disarmament. Without French obstruction, the subsequent disarmament conference proceeded exceptionally smoothly. On January 21, 1882, 15 European countries, including Britain, France, Russia, and Austria, signed the Treaty on the Limitation of Army Armaments. According to the treaty, the size of each country's land forces was as follows: Russian Empire: 500,000 Austria: 486,000 France: 382,000 Spain: 246,000 German Federal Empire: 156,000 Britain: 116,000 Nordic Federation: 98,000 Belgium: 48,000 Netherlands: 33,000 Switzerland: 32,000 Portugal: 28,000 Prussia: 28,000 Greece: 18,000 Montenegro: 3,600 … Overall, this armament treaty was formulated based on the comprehensive strength of each country while also taking regional military balance into account. Prussia’s quota was low because the Prussian government was poor and could not afford to maintain a large army. As early as six months ago, the Berlin government had already begun planning for disarmament, but the biggest challenge was convincing the military to agree. Now that the Treaty on the Limitation of Army Armaments had come along, the government naturally saw no reason to fight for a higher quota on behalf of the military. With the signing of the international treaty, a fait accompli was established. No matter how strong-willed the Prussian military was, it had no choice but to comply. After all, a defeated Prussia had no right to stir up trouble.
With the treaty in place, the looming shadow of war over the European continent suddenly dissipated. At the very least, everyone’s security was assured for the next ten years.
Although limiting army sizes still left major powers with clear advantages, the mutual checks and balances among nations deprived them of the ability to annex smaller states. That’s right. The primary target of this restriction was France. After the disarmament, the French military would be sufficient to protect the country’s security but inadequate for further expansion. Even though they knew they were being singled out, the French had no choice but to accept it. At this point, Napoleon IV had to rein in his ambitions to avoid being caught in a pincer attack both domestically and internationally. The treaty only restricted land forces in mainland Europe, while colonial armies overseas were tacitly ignored. This was not an intentional loophole but rather a practical necessity. The colonial forces were overlooked for three main reasons: First, maintaining the colonial system was a practical necessity. It would be impossible without sufficient military strength.
Second, most colonial armies had limited combat effectiveness and were not taken seriously by the major powers.
Lastly, due to the limitations of the era’s productive capacity, transporting overseas troops to mainland Europe required massive human and material resources. Economically, it would be more feasible to simply expand the standing armies at home. With the armament treaty signed, further negotiations became much easier. The core principle of the Vienna System was that all European nations would collectively guarantee each other’s territorial security to maintain peace and stability on the continent. In this era of rising anti-war sentiment, no government had any interest in launching a war in Europe, so naturally, they did not oppose such a treaty. Most of the debates revolved around details, but overall, the nations of Europe were peace-loving. Even if their politicians were not, the international situation and the European public would ensure that they were. … Just as everyone was celebrating the arrival of peace, another arms race was already beginning to take shape. In the Vienna Palace, a secret military conference was underway—one that would determine the future direction of Austria and even the world. At this moment, Franz held a set of warship design specifications in his hands. Anyone familiar with naval history would immediately recognize them. Displacement: 14,147 tons, full load displacement: 15,786 tons; Length: 126.7 meters, beam: 21.86 meters; Range: 4,700 nautical miles at 10 knots, maximum speed: 18.3 knots; Designed coal storage capacity: 950 tons; Armament: Four 305mm main guns, ten 150mm rapid-fire guns, sixteen 57mm rapid-fire guns, twelve 47mm machine guns, and seven 450mm torpedo tubes. … That’s right. This was the beginning of the pre-dreadnought era. Franz’s butterfly effect had indeed influenced naval history. Without the Franco-Prussian War, the French Navy did not go off course due to budget constraints. Combined with the rise of the Austrian Navy, competition at sea was far more intense than it had been in actual history. Where there is competition, there is progress. In this rapidly evolving era, no one dared to stand still. Against this backdrop, naval technology had advanced at least ten years ahead of its historical timeline, and the concept of the pre-dreadnought emerged accordingly. On this matter, Franz could offer little help. A warship was a reflection of a nation’s industrial strength. It was not something that could be advanced solely by an idea. If one looked closely, it would become clear that designers were never short of imagination. There were countless forward-thinking concepts, many of which had been shelved due to various limitations. Forget pre-dreadnoughts, even ideas resembling dreadnoughts and aircraft carriers had already been proposed. At first, Franz was astonished, thinking he had encountered another time traveler. But as it turned out, he was simply overthinking. The one who proposed a dreadnought-like design was somewhat ahead of his time, but still within the realm of feasibility. Austria’s industrial capacity could barely support such a project. However, those who suggested designing aircraft carriers were far more intriguing. For example, the airship carrier concept. As the name suggests, this involved placing airships on a ship, launching them into battle, and using them for bombing missions. From a technical standpoint, there was nothing impossible about this. Ignoring the accuracy of bombing, the real issue was that airships took time to ascend. By the time they got airborne, the enemy could have already sent the entire ship to the bottom of the sea. But that was nothing compared to another designer who proposed a suicidal attack concept. Franz almost thought he was possessed by the spirit of the Kamikaze squadrons. Airplanes had just been invented and were nowhere near combat-capable. But this designer had a bold idea: load planes onto ships and use them as one-time explosive devices. In the event of war, they would simply crash directly into enemy warships. Technically, this was feasible, but where would they find enough brave souls willing to fly a plane straight to their deaths? Regardless, such creative thinking deserved praise. As for their design concepts, they could be stored in the naval technology reserves for now. Franz asked, “How long would it take to build this battleship?” Any design that made it to his desk had already been reviewed multiple times by the Ministry of the Navy and confirmed to be technically viable. Naval Minister Castagne replied, “At a normal construction pace, it would take about a year and a half. If we accelerate the process, it could be completed in a year.” With a construction time of a year and a half, plus preparation and post-launch testing, it would likely take around two years before the ship was fully operational. Compared to previous battleships, this construction speed was relatively slow. However, compared to future battleships, it was actually quite fast. Generally speaking, the first ship of a new class took the longest to build, but as more were produced, the construction speed would improve. Franz nodded and said calmly, “Proceed at the normal construction pace. Let’s build one first and see how it performs.” Pre-dreadnoughts were not cheap. Each main gun alone cost 20,000 guilders, and a single warship would cost millions of guilders. While costs might decrease later, the first ship, being an experimental model, would undoubtedly be expensive. On-paper specifications did not always match real-world performance. The true capabilities of a warship could only be determined once it was built and tested. Design values were purely theoretical. Under normal circumstances, there would always be some discrepancies. The extent of the deviation? That would depend on luck.
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