At the Vienna Palace, Franz was playing with his infant grandson. Recently, Britain, France, and Russia had all been preoccupied, and with domestic affairs running smoothly, Franz had little else to do but dote on the little one. Suddenly, the sound of loud wailing filled the room, leaving Franz flustered. At that moment, a maid hurried in and anxiously reported, “Your Majesty, word just arrived from outside the palace. Chancellor Felix collapsed as soon as he left his residence this morning. He is currently undergoing emergency treatment.” Upon hearing this dire news, Franz had no time to attend to his sobbing grandson and immediately handed Little Charlie over to the maid and ordered, “Prepare the carriage immediately. I must leave the palace.” People are not made of stone, and no one can remain indifferent. Since the time of the Revolutions of 1848, Felix had served as Austria’s chancellor, working closely with Franz for over thirty years to pull the House of Habsburg back from the brink of destruction. In terms of accomplishments, Felix could rightfully be called the foremost architect of the Habsburg restoration. Born in the year 1800, Felix Schwarzenberg was now 85 years old. This was twice the average life expectancy of the time. At that thought, Franz felt a heavy weight settle in his heart. Time spares no one. Even as emperor, he could do nothing but watch as one by one, those around him departed. He was powerless to stop it. At such an advanced age, a sudden collapse was grave. Even in the 21st century, recovering from such an episode at 85 would be extremely difficult. … As Austria’s chancellor, Felix naturally had personal doctors at his service at all times, and even various medical instruments were readily available at home. The problem was that in this era, there were not many medical instruments to begin with. If it were like the 21st century, with all kinds of equipment, keeping them at home would be impossible. Since everything was readily available, the treatment was carried out at home. By the time Franz arrived, nearly all of Vienna’s medical experts had also gathered. A large number of Vienna’s nobles had come as well, whereas only a few government colleagues were present. This was simply how things worked. It was office hours, and even without the Chancellor, the government still had to function as usual. No one was surprised that Franz had come in person. Nearly every time an important minister was critically ill, he made it a point to visit. Standing before the unconscious Chancellor Felix, Franz swallowed back all the words he had wanted to say and simply stood outside the sickroom in silence. There were no formalities or small talk. Franz was in no mood for that. Seeing the emperor’s dark expression, everyone understood that approaching him now would only invite trouble. Minute by minute, time passed, and the sky gradually darkened. The chief guard reminded him, “Your Majesty, it is getting late. You should return to the palace.” Franz nodded, looked at the crowd of nobles and officials outside, and waved his hand, saying, “Disperse!” At this moment, Franz finally realized that because he, the emperor, had remained, everyone else had no choice but to wait as well. Feeling somewhat frustrated, he returned to the palace, knowing that a new round of political reshuffling was about to begin. Given Chancellor Felix’s current physical condition, even if he recovered, it would be difficult for him to continue serving as chancellor. It was not just the Chancellor who was getting old. Many senior government officials were already over seventy. Without realizing it, the Austrian government had entered an era of aging leadership. Lying in bed, Franz could not help but think how wonderful it would be if he had traveled to a world where spiritual energy was revived and he could pursue immortality. As time passed, Franz drifted into dreams and began to indulge in fantasies. ... In Egypt, after repeated urgings from Napoleon IV, Governor Adolphe’s anti-rebellion army had finally assembled in Cairo. A single French infantry division, two Egyptian colonial divisions, and a cavalry battalion made up the entire force. There was no artillery regiment. When suppressing a colonial rebellion, that would be unnecessary. The field artillery carried by the infantry division was more than sufficient. In this era, artillery was a highly specialized branch of the military. It was not enough just to be able to fire shells. Accuracy was what truly mattered. Even if Britain and Austria were willing to spare no expense in providing artillery, the rebels would not be able to find trained gunners to operate them. On a bright and sunny day, Governor Adolphe led his 36,000-strong anti-rebellion army out of Cairo in a grand procession. Faced with the overwhelming advance of the French forces, panic had already begun to spread within the rebel ranks. France’s reputation as the world’s strongest land army was too imposing. Even before the battle had begun, some within the rebels were already wavering. Mahdi held multiple mobilization meetings to boost morale, but they had little effect. Austrian representative Lieutenant Colonel Hutier attended one of these meetings. After witnessing the disgraceful state of the rebel leadership, he decisively chose not to attend again. At the Eighth Division headquarters, the newly appointed commander, Hutier, spoke with deep concern. “The composition of the rebel forces is far too complicated, filled with internal conflicts. Their training and combat awareness are both severely lacking. Looking at the current situation, if they engage the French head-on, defeat is only a matter of time. The British came up with a flawless strategy, but they completely ignored the rebels’ ability to execute it. So much time has passed, yet they still haven’t decided where to intercept the river. Right now, they’re still arguing. I suspect that by the time the French arrive, they may not even have settled on a location.” The Nile’s water levels do not remain high year-round. During the dry season, blocking the river to store water for a downstream flood attack would have no real effect. Unfortunately, it was only early April. The Nile’s dry season lasted from January to May, with water levels only beginning to rise in May and peaking in August. This meant that the rebels would have to hold out against the French assault for at least 40 days before Britain’s so-called “perfect strategy” even had a chance of working. If they wanted to use a flood to devastate the downstream delta area, the best time would be in August. Every August, the lower Nile naturally experienced flooding, often destroying farmland and sometimes even reaching as far as Cairo. Falkenhayn remarked, “The British plan is completely unworkable. The French won’t give them that much time. If Mahdi is smart, he should immediately select a suitable location and blow up a small mountain to block the river. Even though it’s the dry season and the impact on the lower reaches will be limited, something is better than nothing. At the very least, it would slow down the French forces coming to suppress the rebellion.” The rebels already had the advantage of terrain. If they blocked the river, the advancing French forces would have no choice but to take a detour. If they continued marching along the Nile and the rebels suddenly released the stored water, they would all be sent to a watery grave. The French would never take that risk. However, if they carried out this plan ahead of schedule, the dream of flooding the delta would be over. With insufficient water volume, the destructive power would be too weak. Hutier shook his head. “Don’t count on it. The rebels have already been completely misled by the British. Maybe that Lieutenant General Jarrett actually believes the rebels are like the British army, capable of strict discipline and immediate obedience.” His words were dripping with contempt. If he weren’t certain that Jarrett’s loyalty to Britain was beyond question, he would have suspected him of being a French spy. On paper, the rebel forces numbered nearly 100,000 which was about three times the size of the French army, giving them an overwhelming numerical advantage. However, having more troops didn’t guarantee victory. In colonial uprisings, it wasn’t uncommon for a well-trained force to hold off enemies at a ratio of one to three or even one to a hundred. Potiorek suggested, “Since the rebel leadership is beyond saving, we might as well ignore them. Let’s find an opportunity to separate from them. They can tie down the main French forces while we move deep into Egypt and wreak havoc. If we can’t defeat the French army in open battle, we can at least go after the plantation owners. Burn the French cotton fields and make that bastard Adolphe weep!” The expectations were already this low. Despite air-dropping some equipment by airship and giving the 8th Division a bit of training, Potiorek still had no illusions about their chances in a head-on fight with the French. In his view, even going after plantation owners would require numerical superiority. If they fought at equal numbers, this rabble might not even be able to handle the plantation guards. Falkenhayn frowned and asked, “It sounds like a good plan, but once we’ve entered the Egyptian interior, how do we retreat?” This was a very real issue. Penetrating deep behind enemy lines was easy, but getting out was another matter entirely. If the French found out someone had torched their cotton fields, they wouldn’t rest until they had crushed the culprits. Potiorek shook his head. “The French aren’t fools. Once they realize what’s happening, they’ll quickly send troops to hunt us down. Retreat will be impossible. But our mission is sabotage, so why do we need to retreat at all? We take our troops, cause as much chaos as we can, and if the situation turns bad, we abandon the soldiers. The few of us can disguise ourselves and escape.” It was ruthless, but undeniably practical. There were no identification cards in this era, and colonial territories were full of strangers. A few unfamiliar faces wouldn’t raise suspicion. Even if they were caught by the French, they could simply claim to be an Austrian expedition that had accidentally wandered into Egypt. This world was never short of lost travelers. Every year, plenty of explorers stray into foreign colonies by mistake. And if they were captured, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. The French would just inform the Austrian colonial government to come and collect them, perhaps even demand a ransom in the process. It was a common practice. In the absence of direct conflicts of interest, colonial powers rarely killed captives without reason. *** https://postimg.cc/gallery/PwXsBkC (Maps of the current territories of the countries in this novel made by ScH)
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