As the economy recovered, the Austrian government’s financial revenue naturally rose with the tide. The government never let money sit idle; every bit of income was meant to be spent. It was only halfway through 1897, yet every department was already rubbing its hands in anticipation, preparing to fight for next year’s budget. Since the Emperor had gone on vacation, the power to decide the allocations fell to the Crown Prince. Everyone could tell that this was the Emperor paving the way for his son. There was no reason to object. Although the Emperor was still in good health, he was already sixty-seven years old. In an age where the average life expectancy was under fifty, that was already considered “old age.” No one could guarantee that the aging monarch wouldn’t one day suddenly meet his Maker. From that point of view, letting the Crown Prince gain experience early to avoid chaos later was more than reasonable. Unlike the bloody struggles for power in the East, Europe’s laws of succession were relatively well-established. Even when conflicts did arise, they rarely turned brutal. At least within the Habsburg dynasty, internal struggles were never that fierce. Otherwise, Franz’s uncle, Ferdinand I, would never have successfully inherited the throne. Under such circumstances, allowing the Crown Prince to act as regent in the Emperor’s absence was uncommon but not without precedent. The most famous example was Franz himself. After the Great Revolution, he had governed as Crown Prince in place of the Emperor, and even the Regency Council obediently yielded power. Rules were rules. As long as everyone respected them, nothing would go wrong. The same applied to Frederick’s case, perhaps even more favorably. After all, Franz was still very much alive; he had merely gone on a rather long vacation. That was hardly a problem. With a revered Emperor still sitting above, no one below dared to act recklessly, no matter what they were thinking. Franz rarely made waves, but the bureaucrats of the Austrian government had never forgotten that unforgettable moment of “ten thousand officials resigning, a hundred sent to the crematorium.” If someone were to seriously count, they would find that more officials had fallen during Franz’s reign than in all the previous centuries of the Habsburg dynasty combined. Of course, times had changed, and such comparisons were hardly fair. The number of civil servants in the Holy Roman Empire was now far greater than in any previous era. Facing an Emperor who dared to break the old rule of “the law does not punish the masses” and instead doubled down on punishments, no official dared to stir up trouble. All of these lessons had been written in blood by their predecessors. Since the establishment of the civil service examination system, there was always a queue of replacements waiting in line. The old days when bureaucrats held untouchable power were long gone. … Putting down the document in his hand, Frederick asked helplessly, “My esteemed minister, could you please tell me what the Navy’s purpose is in building these ships?” The word “esteemed” carried a clear hint of sarcasm. It was obvious that Frederick had little enthusiasm for the naval ministry’s latest shipbuilding proposal. On paper, it did not look like much, just a few battleships and a few dozen cruisers and destroyers. For a navy as large as the Holy Roman Empire’s, updating part of the fleet each year was normal. Building this many ships at once did not seem excessive at all. But the problem lay in that very phrase, “fleet renewal.” The Empire’s navy had strict rules for decommissioning ships. A vessel could only be retired if it was truly outdated or if it could be sold as a secondhand warship. Otherwise, it had to complete its full service term. After several years of continuous upgrades, the navy had now entered a quiet phase. For the next three years, no capital ships were scheduled for retirement. No retirements meant no replacements. And with no expansion to the naval roster, the government would not approve additional funding for new warships in the next two years. Without that extra budget, the navy’s annual military allocation simply could not support such an ambitious shipbuilding plan. If it were just a matter of building a few dozen ships, that would cost only ten or twenty million marks, an amount Frederick would not bat an eye at, given that he personally managed oil companies worth billions. The issue, however, was not just the ships. Once the fleet expanded, the navy’s manpower had to grow with it. What looked like a simple request to “build more ships” was in fact a hidden plan for military expansion. And that was not a one-time expense, it meant the government would have to increase the military budget by tens of millions every single year. The Holy Roman Empire was a land power. If the navy got more funding, the army certainly would not stay quiet, and the air corps would likely want their share too. Those were just domestic headaches. The real trouble lay abroad. The British were watching closely, and the moment the Holy Roman Empire expanded its navy, the Royal Navy would undoubtedly follow suit. There was no question about it, a new naval arms race would ignite. And whether Austria liked it or not, the government would be dragged into another round of “ship-launching contests” with Britain. A single moment of serious thought was all Frederick needed to realize what this proposal truly was, a bottomless pit that would swallow every bit of the government’s new revenue. Leaving aside the international consequences, if all the money went to military spending, how was he supposed to build any achievements of his own? Franz had made him acting regent so he could prove his political capability and strengthen his reputation before ascending the throne. If he blew all that money on a shipbuilding race with the British, then aside from the navy, everyone else in the government would be furious with him. Frederick was no Wilhelm II. He did not grow up with dreams of ruling the seas. Raised in Vienna, steeped in continental culture, he was a firm believer in land power. As for Britain’s so-called maritime supremacy, Frederick had always viewed it with disdain. No matter how mighty their navy was, could it ever compare to the dominion over three continents, Europe, Asia, and Africa? In the Holy Roman Empire, the most popular belief was still the theory that “whoever controls the continent controls the world.” As for maritime supremacy, that was seen as nothing more than an extension of continental dominance. Once the Holy Roman Empire fully digested the fruits of its victories, Britain’s naval supremacy would have to yield, whether they liked it or not. So now, when Frederick looked at the Minister of the Navy, his expression clearly said, “This man is trouble. He’s trying to drag me into a mess.” Fortunately, the minister seemed well-prepared for the Crown Prince’s skepticism. Without the slightest hint of panic, Castagni replied calmly, “Your Highness, the British have been far too idle lately. We need to give them something to worry about. The Central Asian Railway is about to open. This is the perfect opportunity to create a distraction for the Russians and let them exhaust Britain’s strength for us. If everything goes well, before the next Anglo-Russian War even ends, we will already be in a position to take Britain’s place as the new master of the seas. But before that happens, if we do not build more warships, how can we possibly fulfill the duties of a maritime power?” No one could quite recall when it started, but the Austrian government had developed a habit of using its Russian allies as pawns on the chessboard. Now that they were setting their sights on Britain’s naval throne, the Navy’s first instinct was the same as always—send the Russians in first. A glance through the history books made it clear. In every major conflict over the past few decades, the Russians had always gone ahead to do the dirty work. During the First Near East War (the Crimean War), they fought the British, the French, and the Ottomans, laying the groundwork for Austria’s later annexation of southern Germany. In the two Prusso-Russian Wars, they helped crush Prussia, preventing a civil war that might have erupted during the unification of the Holy Roman Empire. In the subsequent Near Eastern conflicts, the Russians and Austrians fought side by side again, finally bringing down the Ottoman Empire. Even though Russia had stayed out of the Continental War, it had still played a crucial role in keeping France in check, and to this day, Russian troops were still fighting bravely on distant fronts. And now, as Austria found itself squaring off against Britain, it turned out that the Russians were useful once again. The decisive moment had not even arrived yet, and already someone in Austria wanted to provoke an Anglo-Russian War. Judging from the situation, with the Central Asian Railway nearing completion, the chances of such a war breaking out were growing by the day. So yes, the Austro-Russian alliance was destined to remain strong. Where else could one find such a loyal and convenient ally? Maintaining this friendship was certainly expensive, but compared to the value of Russia’s contributions, the cost was trivial. Frederick had to admit, the idea tempted him for a moment. But he quickly came to his senses. The Central Asian Railway would not be completed for another two years so what was the rush? Even if they planned to provoke a conflict between Britain and Russia, that could only happen after the railway opened. Until then, it was fine to let the British stay idle. Their turn to be busy would come soon enough. Especially now, with the British government constantly testing the Tsar’s patience, these little provocations would only pile up over time, eventually turning into a hatred between the two nations that no diplomacy could mend.
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