The autumn wind swept up the yellowing leaves, carrying with it the joy of harvest. After more than a year, the great war on the continent had finally come to an end, and now was the time to reap the fruits of victory. The once unattainable Vienna Grand Hotel was now overflowing with guests. The sudden surge of visitors left Drost, the lobby manager, with a constant headache. Working in the most luxurious hotel in the world meant dealing every day with people of stature from every field. Drost was no stranger to storms of this kind. The Vienna Grand Hotel had seen full occupancy before. Whenever great events or celebrations took place, the rooms would fill to capacity. Yet the rules of the hotel were simple. Whoever booked first would have their place, and no one dared to cause trouble within these walls. This time, however, was different. Ever since the news broke that Vienna would host the peace conference, the reservation lines had been ringing without end. According to incomplete estimates, those who had already confirmed their stay included seven kings, more than a hundred great nobles, and dozens of statesmen from various countries. Naturally, none of these figures would attend the conference alone. They all came with delegations, and choosing the Vienna Grand Hotel was as much a matter of prestige as of comfort. Though the hotel’s rates seemed impossibly high, in truth such prices were meant only for the ordinary wealthy. For the truly powerful, things were never quite the same. It was a matter of mutual benefit. The extravagant fees and refined services underscored the grandeur of their rank, while generous discounts remained unspoken. As long as no one revealed the truth, the illusion of grandeur held firm. With every noble’s arrival, the hotel’s reputation rose even higher. When kings, archdukes, and other high nobility came to stay, their accommodations were always free of charge. Fortunately, in this era, the great nobles still cared about appearances. Had it been in later times, one could easily imagine a swarm of exiled monarchs flocking here to live off the hotel’s generosity. Where great personages gathered, problems inevitably followed. Nobles were human after all, and conflicts among them were hardly uncommon. That alone was troublesome enough, though most of the time their pride compelled them to maintain decorum. Unless drink loosened their restraint, they generally knew how to keep up appearances. And if a quarrel did break out, there was nothing a hotel manager could possibly do to intervene. Drost stared at the long list of reservations, worrying himself bald. There simply were not enough rooms of the proper rank to go around. The great men were particular about status, and if their lodgings did not reflect their station, tempers would flare in an instant. Headache or no, the work still had to be done. If Drost could not manage even such matters, then his career as manager would soon be over. … At the Vienna Court Opera House, the powers of the anti-French coalition assembled for a closed-door meeting. If all went as expected, this conference to divide the spoils would be concluded before the arrival of the rest of the delegations. As for the forthcoming Vienna Congress, it would merely serve to formalize what had already been decided in private. “Your Excellency, is it not premature to auction off the French fleet so soon after the continental war?” The Spanish Foreign Minister, Carlos Manuel O’Donnell y Álvarez de Abreu, raised his objection. After all, while the continental war had ended, Spain’s war was far from over. As one of the old great powers, Spain’s pride still lingered even in decline. To endure humiliation on the European continent was one thing, for that could be blamed on their own waning strength. But for the Japanese to meddle and attack them as well, that was intolerable. Over the past few months, the fleet stationed in the Philippines had been nearly wiped out, and much of the archipelago had already fallen, yet the Spanish government still refused to yield. What gave them confidence was, of course, the Anti-French Coalition. According to their prior agreement, Austria had promised that once victory was secured in Europe, Spain would be granted part of the captured French fleet. But now, what had been promised as warships was suddenly to be sold off at auction. Naturally, Carlos Manuel O’Donnell could not accept this. The Spanish government had been waiting to acquire those ships to teach the Japanese a lesson. Wessenberg gave a faint smile and assured him at once and said, “You may rest easy, sir. Austria’s earlier commitment remains unchanged. The decision to auction the French fleet was unavoidable. Everyone knows the sheer size of the French navy. In the continental war just concluded, Austria paid a heavy price, and we have no plans to expand our navy in the near future. If we were to abstain from claiming our share, leaving everything to be divided among the rest, the financial burden on each power would be immense. Besides, the true core of the French navy is no more than a hundred ironclads. The rest, mere auxiliary vessels, are little better than scraps. If they are not bundled together, no one would want them at all. If you wish to acquire some ships, you may simply take them at the auction. There is no need to worry about the price, for we can arrange things behind closed doors. Of course, if someone bids an outrageous sum, there is no need to compete. And should the auction fail, we can always sell you a batch of our own active warships afterward, and at a much lower price.” Wessenberg did not bother to keep it a secret. Austria truly had no interest in the French warships. As for whether the British would believe the news once it spread, no one could say. It was only a minor matter. If the British were fooled, all the better; if not, it made little difference. However many vessels could be sold, so be it. If they proved impossible to dispose of, Austria could always accept them from the French. They might not increase fighting strength, but at least they could be displayed to intimidate. As long as they were not sent out to clash with the Royal Navy, there was no real risk. The only drawback was the expense. “Warships are a trivial concern. They can be dealt with however one pleases. What we ought to discuss is how to deal with France herself!” It was the Belgian representative who spoke. As the greatest victim of this war, Belgium lay in ruins. Not only had its economy been devastated, its very people had been scattered and broken. At this moment, the Belgian government was desperately calling on its exiled citizens to return and rebuild their homeland. Warships were the last thing they could spare a thought for. Without sufficient reparations from France, Belgium’s reconstruction would be all but impossible. Wessenberg’s eyes swept across the gathering. Then he rose, pen in hand, and moved to the great map upon the wall. With a single stroke he drew a sweeping curve across the heart of France. “Let us begin with territory. The map is here. Whoever has designs may mark them down. If there are no objections, it shall be agreed. Where there is dispute, we shall debate it later. As for Austria’s aims, we mean to reclaim the lands once seized by France from the Holy Roman Empire—namely the Kingdom of Burgundy, the Duchy of Lorraine, and Alsace.” (Burgundy here refers to the region of present-day Franche-Comté.) Judging by land area alone, all those regions combined amounted to less than fifty thousand square kilometers, not even a tenth of France’s homeland. But the true value could not be measured merely by territory. In terms of economy, Alsace and the Kingdom of Burgundy were among France’s most vital industrial and resource hubs, while Lorraine was an important agricultural region. With Austria gaining those areas, France’s industry would shrink by a third, and her overall national strength would fall by at least a quarter. Nikolay de Giers hesitated. From the perspective of the Russian Empire, he naturally did not wish to see Austria grow stronger. Yet this was clearly not the moment to interfere. In this war, the Russian army had played only a minor role, so Russia’s voice at the table carried little weight. Besides, Austria was not taking all the spoils for itself. It had invited Belgium, Switzerland, Sardinia, and Spain to share in the partition of France. To step forward now and play the villain would achieve nothing but earn enmity. Nikolay de Giers forced himself to suppress his own desires as he watched the others draw circles across the map. Even if Russia were granted a small exclave, the empire lacked the means to administer it. The expansion of each power followed the line of its own homeland, avoiding overlap and clashes of interest. With no one disrupting the balance, the atmosphere naturally appeared harmonious. “If there are no objections, then this shall stand as the draft for the territorial settlement with France. The specific details can be decided later.” Dividing spoils was a complicated task, far beyond the ability of one or two men alone. Every country had come with an entire team. The leaders present were all figures of the highest rank, who needed to uphold their dignity. It was enough for them to decide on the larger direction. The finer details of negotiation and the bartering of interests would be left to their subordinates. After a brief pause, Wessenberg lifted his head and took in the complex expressions on the faces around him. He did not care what they thought, as long as no one voiced opposition. “Now we move on to the next agenda: war reparations. In principle, we shall continue to respect the wishes of each nation, and according to the actual situation, as well as the contributions and sacrifices made in the war, determine the share each country shall receive. Let us first determine the total amount of reparations. We will begin by tallying the war losses of each country. I shall start. In the past year, Austria, in the war against France, has suffered the following: 742,300 dead, 2,141,600 wounded, consumption of 15.46 million tons of strategic materials, and war expenditures of 6.698 billion guilders. The direct economic losses amount to 18.6 billion guilders, and indirect economic losses reach 56.4 billion guilders...” That the figures were inflated was certain. Austria had not even completed its loss assessments, so where could such precise data have come from? Aside from casualties, which were difficult to falsify and were mostly accurate, the rest of the numbers were heavily padded. The only point beyond doubt was that, as the main force in this war against France, Austria’s sacrifices were indeed enormous. “Belgium, in this war, has lost two hundred thousand soldiers. Five million civilians have been displaced, more than half a million non-combatants have been killed or injured, and the economic losses are beyond measure. Initial estimates place them at no less than ten billion guilders...” At that moment, the Belgian representative could not stop his tears from flowing. It could not be helped, for Belgium after the war was truly devastated. One could say the country had been thrust back into the primitive age. Cities were reduced to ruins, and the once-bustling factories and mines had given way to overgrown fields. Compared with Austria’s inflated fifty billion in damages, Belgium’s ten billion was genuine through and through. It was not that they did not wish to exaggerate, but that there was simply no room for exaggeration. The nation was gone, and with such a small base, how much loss could be claimed? Everyone present knew the truth. Seeing Belgium’s tragic plight, many wished to offer words of comfort, yet no one knew how to begin.
*** https://postimg.cc/gallery/PwXsBkC (Maps of the current territories of the countries in this novel made by ScH)
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