Once a shell was fired, it was meant to kill. With the exposure of the arms smuggling case, the Russians suddenly regained their confidence. The Russian government, already known for its hardline stance, became even tougher on the French issue. Of course, ever since Carlos’s escape, whether the Russian government was being firm or not had already stopped mattering. The French government had shut down completely. Even if someone wanted to negotiate, the Russian delegation had no idea whom to talk to. Facing increasingly severe clashes between soldiers and civilians, the Russian army stationed in France chose the simplest and most familiar solution: armed suppression. Once the blade of slaughter was raised, the consequences could no longer be controlled by anyone. On December 21, 1895, the long-prepared French Resistance ambushed a Russian supply convoy in the outskirts of Paris, marking the beginning of the Franco-Russian War. From the slogan “Anti-Russia” alone, it was clear that the French, having been beaten harshly by reality, had become more rational. They clung tightly to the previous atrocities committed by the Russian army, placing themselves in the position of victims and declaring that they were now fighting for survival. This controlled and focused approach was undoubtedly the right move. Thanks to the deeply ingrained “barbarian image” of the Russians and the availability of visual evidence, public opinion across Europe sympathized with the French people. Unfortunately, this was still the 19th century. While public opinion mattered, for the Russian government, which was already used to constant criticism, such scolding barely felt like a tickle. As for international intervention, that was simply not going to happen. Politicians were rational beings—they could forget anything except their own interests. On the issue of suppressing France, the stance of the Anti-French Alliance remained united. Even if everyone agreed that the Russians were being a bit excessive, for the sake of the greater picture, each nation still chose to give secret support. After all, every time the Russian army stirred up chaos, it was draining France’s national strength. And for its neighbors, only a weakened France could make for a good neighbor. With the Austrian government taking the lead in doing nothing, the rest of Europe followed suit. Except for a few countries that also had stationed troops in France and were feeling a bit of pressure, everyone else simply watched the spectacle unfold. To show support for his ally, Franz generously announced that the frontline Russian troops would be supplied with an unlimited amount of “free” potatoes. There was no helping it. After all, the Holy Roman Empire had an excellent potato harvest that year. On one side, potato production was soaring; on the other, the market for consumption was shrinking. The people at the Ministry of Agriculture were at their wits’ end. Potato shreds, mashed potatoes, potato starch, potato pancakes, potato noodles, potato wine, canned potatoes, fried, steamed, braised, stir-fried… Even the most enthusiastic food lovers could not keep up. Despite gathering dozens of potato recipes from various countries, they still could not eat their way through the mountain of harvested potatoes. Unlike wheat, potatoes are not suited for long-term storage. If they were left piled up in warehouses for three to five years, mold and sprouting would be the least of the problems. The real nightmare would be when they turned into a mushy mess of “potato paste.” To avoid wasting food, Franz decided to simply give them to the Russians. That way, the Russian bureaucracy would have one less chance to create another disaster that might cut off supplies to the front. This was no joke. Based on long-standing experience, whenever the Russian army launched an expedition, supply problems were almost guaranteed. Even after Alexander II’s reforms, the Russian government was never short on food at home. But having food in the granaries of Russia and having food on the frontlines were two completely different things. Transporting grain from the Russian Empire all the way to France was still a major challenge for the Russian government. Now that the Austrian government had stepped in to help feed the soldiers, the Russian army’s logistics burden had been cut nearly in half. The only downside was that the poor Russian soldiers at the front had to eat potatoes every single day. By the time the war ended, they would probably turn pale at the sight of one. Still, that was a minor issue. The “gray cattle”, as people liked to call them, never had the luxury of being picky eaters. Going hungry in the Russian army was nothing new. TN: Gray Cattle - Серая скотина (In Russian). Term used by the Russian intellectuals and writers to criticize the Russian regime for their blatant neglect and disregard for their soldiers treating them as expendable. Besides, unless a soldier was completely brainless, he would use his initiative to look for more food in the local area to supplement his rations. Many outsiders believed the Russian army’s atrocities were due to poor discipline. But in Franz’s eyes, that lack of discipline had been forced on them by the Russian bureaucracy. The pitiful military budget was already small, and even then, payments were often delayed. And when they were finally released, they would usually be cut down by “discounts.” In the Russian Empire, only the most elite and loyal units, usually under the command of a strong, well-connected officer, could expect to receive their full military funds. The saying “the crying child gets the milk” applies everywhere. The real problem came when the commanding officer was mild-tempered and unwilling to fight for resources. In that case, it was the soldiers below who suffered. Delayed and incomplete supply deliveries were considered normal. The bureaucrats, after all, knew how to do the math. If supplies arrived three days late every month, then providing rations for eleven months out of the year would be enough on paper. The missing month’s worth of supplies would simply be recorded as “owed,” and as the years went by, those old debts would quietly disappear, reappearing instead as personal income for the bureaucrats. Under such conditions, if a soldier didn’t find some way to make extra money on the side, he would return home after his service with nothing to show for it. How could he face his family like that? … When news reached Vienna that the Austrian government was sending free potatoes to the Russian army, King Carlos was stunned on the spot. In politics, there were no coincidences, especially when it came to the actions of a hegemonic power. Every move was bound to be interpreted in a dozen different ways. In truth, Franz’s decision to gift potatoes to the Russians was nothing more than an effort to prevent “cheap potatoes hurting the farmers,” while also reaffirming the friendship between the two nations. After all, the war had already begun, and it would not be long before the Russians placed another round of massive arms orders. Holding a little goodwill campaign now, giving old customers a bit of courtesy, was the natural thing to do. But in Carlos’s eyes, it became a political signal that the Austrian government was siding with the Russians. For the French government, which was desperately trying to expel the Russian army, this was clearly terrible news. … Inside the most luxurious palace suite of the Austrian Grand Hotel, several high-ranking French officials who had taken a detour through Spain to reach Vienna were gathered. Perhaps it was the fatigue from their long journey, or the lack of proper rest, but many of them looked utterly exhausted. Carlos scanned the room, a hint of apology in his voice as he said, “You have just arrived in Vienna. By right, I should let you rest for a while, but the situation for France is extremely dire. I must ask you to endure a bit longer. You might not know this, but since I arrived in Vienna, Franz only appeared once which was at the welcome banquet. After that, he retreated to his palace for a so-called vacation. Even the senior officials of the Austrian government avoid me. They won’t even give me a chance to speak with them properly.” Carlos felt bitter inside. The last time he had come to Vienna, he had not been treated like this. A monarch taking a “vacation” inside his own palace—what kind of excuse was that? If one wanted to make up an excuse, at least make it believable. Something like poor health, exhaustion, or being busy with state affairs would have sounded more convincing. But a “vacation at home”? That was just insulting. Still, compared to the old and experienced Austrian Emperor, Carlos was a junior monarch. Suffering some humiliation was not the end of the world. But when even the senior officials of the Austrian government avoided him, that was another matter entirely. As a king, he had already humbled himself by personally seeking them out. Regardless of whether or not they could reach an agreement, the least they could do was receive him and talk. Unfortunately, as an uninvited guest, Carlos found himself thoroughly unwelcome in Vienna. Of course, it was only the upper ranks of the Austrian government who avoided him. As a king and a Bourbon at that, he still carried a certain prestige. Invitations to banquets and social gatherings flooded in one after another. At first, Carlos attended these events enthusiastically, hoping to befriend the Austrian elite and use those connections to influence his negotiations with the government. Reality, however, proved harsh. These nobles were lively enough when discussing trivial matters or romantic gossip, but the moment politics came up, they turned into tight-lipped statues, leaving Carlos to speak to himself. After attending several banquets, Carlos finally realized what was going on. These people invited him only for appearances’ sake. None of them had any genuine intention of befriending him. If the nobles who hosted Carlos had known what he was thinking, they would have cried out in protest. Seeking help at every meeting, especially for matters involving national interests, who would dare get too close to that? Status determines loyalty. As beneficiaries of the existing international order, no matter how pitiful France looked, the Austrian nobility could never show sympathy, much less act on it. The world of nobility was brutally realistic. Anyone who failed to recognize their own position would not survive long in such a circle. Foreign Minister Pietro said, “Your Majesty, please calm yourself. The Austrian government’s indifference is indeed unfavorable to us, but we must also look at the other side of the coin. From beginning to end, the Austrians have not issued a public statement against the anti-Russian movement. That means there is still room to maneuver. On the surface, relations between Russia and Austria seem excellent, but beneath that facade there are many hidden frictions. Their long shared border alone is a potential powder keg. No matter how close they appear, if either side ever gets a chance to crush the other, they will never hesitate. If Austria truly supported the Russians, they would have already convened an alliance conference and called on all of Europe to help them clean up the mess. Perhaps, in the eyes of the Austrian government, watching us and the Russians tear each other apart and exhaust one another is what benefits them most.” It was a reasonable analysis, and almost certainly close to the truth. Yet no one in the room looked the least bit relieved. Because if the foreign minister’s assessment was correct, one question loomed large in everyone’s mind: With France’s current state, can we really defeat the Russians? It was a question that came from the depths of their hearts. And no one dared to answer it. Or rather, no one wanted to because deep down, they already knew the answer was not the one they wished to hear.
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