To keep others from profiting off their conflict, the Russian government had no intention of provoking a war with Britain at that moment. As for Britain, which stood at the center of the brewing storm, that went without saying. When has Britain ever been so reckless as to go ashore and fight a great power head-on? Even if the British Empire truly wanted to fight, it would never do so alone. The British way was to gather a group of cannon-fodder allies and swarm the enemy together. Acting alone was simply out of the question. While the Russian government feared Britain’s strength, the British government feared the might of the Russian Bear even more. The key issue was that even if Britain won, there would be little to gain, but if it lost, it could very well lose India. After suffering firsthand at the hands of Afghan guerrillas, the British government no longer held any real attachment to the region. Unfortunately for the Afghans, their bravery only worked against weak opponents. When facing the stubborn and brutal Russians, their performance was far less impressive. That was hardly surprising. Though the Afghan people were fierce, their land was poor in resources, and arable land was scarce. The population was small to begin with, and war had reduced it even further. With the Russian government now stationing two hundred thousand Russian troops in Afghanistan, the ratio of soldiers to civilians had reached one to ten. One Russian soldier watching over ten Afghans made it impossible for any uprising to succeed. Whatever else one might say, Russian troops were far tougher than the Indian colonial soldiers under British command. Had Britain stationed its main forces in Afghanistan back then instead of relying on the British Indian Corps, its army would never have been bullied so badly by guerrillas. Still, the world’s attention was fixed on Europe. Hardly anyone cared about what happened in distant colonies, and all the major powers quietly agreed to look the other way. Of course, that was wishful thinking. Britain’s total army strength barely reached two hundred thousand men, so it could not possibly spare that many troops just to garrison Afghanistan. While maintaining an army was cheaper than maintaining a navy, the military remained a monstrous drain on any nation’s treasury. Except for Russia, which was an outlier, even the great continental powers of Europe maintained only around five to six hundred thousand standing troops during peacetime. Sending two hundred thousand soldiers to occupy a single region would strain even the Austrian government’s finances, let alone Britain’s. Because of this, when the European situation changed drastically, Britain abandoned most of Afghanistan like a burdensome weight and reached a temporary compromise with Russia. Had these issues not existed, the British government would have gritted its teeth and held on. With Britain’s wealth and India’s manpower, if it came down to a battle of endurance, Russia would have been the first to collapse. War is simply the continuation of politics, and politics is the continuation of interests. Both the British and Russian governments believed that starting a war now served neither of their interests, so naturally, war would not break out. Provoking conflict could only worsen relations between the two powers, but it would never truly alter their decisions. Even though the Holy Roman Empire wielded considerable influence within the Russian court, it still lacked the authority to make decisions on Russia’s behalf. … The first international strategic plan personally organized and implemented by Frederick ended in failure. Aside from mild disappointment, he did not feel dejected. After all, provoking a war between Britain and Russia had always been a low-probability event. Even though the Austrian government had begun preparations nine years earlier by assisting the Russians in constructing the Central Asian Railway, the effort had merely worsened Anglo-Russian relations and slightly increased the odds of success. To avoid exposing their intentions too obviously, Austrian railway engineers were withdrawn immediately after the main line was completed. Yet it was all in vain. It had been an open secret from the start, and no matter how carefully it was disguised, nothing could change the fact that the Austrian government sought to ignite a war between Britain and Russia. Given this background, failure was the normal outcome. What happened now was only the beginning and could be seen as a tentative probe. The fact that a war between Britain and Russia did not erupt at present did not mean it would never happen in the future. The seeds of war had already been planted, and it was only a matter of time before they took root and sprouted. … In July, beneath the vast blue sky, the sun blazed like a great fireball, baking the earth and burning away the clouds, leaving the heavens unusually high and clear. Under the scorching sun, the port of Trieste was unusually lively today. Soldiers of unknown origin had sealed off the docks so tightly that not even a drop of water could pass through. None of this dampened the curiosity of the local residents, who were used to such spectacles, though the newly arrived merchants were dumbfounded. Seeing the number of soldiers increasing in the streets, Du Cheng’en, who disliked trouble, decisively led his men back to their inn, fearing they might somehow get caught up in disaster. There was no helping it. The international environment of the time was deeply unfriendly to Chinese merchants, forcing them to tread carefully at every step. Without the backing of a strong homeland, and caught in an age when racial discrimination was at its worst, engaging in overseas trade was tantamount to gambling with one’s life. The establishment of the Lanfang Autonomous Province had only slightly improved the situation but it had not truly changed it. After all, rights were never given, they were earned. As a lawful state, the Holy Roman Empire, having recognized the Lanfang Autonomous Province, naturally had to recognize its citizenship. But that recognition was valid only within the Empire itself. Internationally, its legitimacy remained low. Even where recognition existed, it was weak and far removed from the prestige of the Holy Roman Empire. In the end, when Chinese merchants encountered problems abroad, their first instinct was still to seek compromise rather than confrontation. On one hand, the difficulty of communication made it hard to prove one’s nationality; on the other, years of oppression had made Chinese merchants reluctant to deal with government officials. When trouble arose, they avoided contacting embassies and instead tried to resolve issues on their own, which only emboldened the predators. Under such circumstances, more and more Chinese merchants engaged only in internal trade within the Holy Roman Empire or turned to business with other Asian countries. The internal market of the Holy Roman Empire was large enough, and with everyone already familiar with the Asian region, it was more than sufficient to make a living. Du Cheng’en was one such merchant. He had always been active in Southeast Asia and East Asia, but this was his first time directly transporting tea to Europe. Even though he had opened a new trade route, Du Cheng’en’s cautious nature had not changed. He preferred to earn a little less rather than invite trouble for himself. After unloading his cargo at the port of Trieste, he traded directly with local tea merchants and had no plans to expand further into the European market. When he saw the number of soldiers outside increasing, the cautious Du Cheng’en naturally decided not to linger. “Master, there are so many people outside watching the excitement. Why are we leaving in such a hurry?” Du Cheng’en glared at the young sailor and scolded him, “Afu, how many times have I told you? When you’re traveling abroad, the worst thing you can have is curiosity. Look at all those soldiers out there. Who knows what’s about to happen? If you get caught up in something and someone shoots you, you won’t even have time to cry.” Hearing this, their local guide looked displeased. It sounded as though his own country was being described as chaotic and lawless. But since Du Cheng’en was his employer, Laukol restrained himself and calmly replied, “Du, you’re worrying too much. This is the Holy Roman Empire. As a lawful state, our soldiers don’t open fire on civilians without cause. Unless someone tries to break through a military blockade or approaches with a weapon, the most they’ll do is warn people to leave. Watching from a distance isn’t a problem. If I’m not mistaken, there’s probably another large warship being launched today and that’s why the port is sealed off. That’s one of Trieste’s charms. If you’d like, I can take you to the observation platform. With a telescope, you’ll be able to watch the ship launch up close.” As one of the Holy Roman Empire’s main shipbuilding centers, Trieste regularly held warship launch ceremonies. However, not every launch came with such tight security. Usually, such large-scale operations only happened when a major vessel was involved or when an important figure was attending the ceremony. Naturally, Laukol didn’t mention those details. He simply wanted to impress his employers and show off a little. Realizing his earlier words had been inappropriate, the seasoned Du Cheng’en quickly made amends and said, “My apologies, Mr. Laukol. But we really are exhausted today and only wish to rest. The day’s work is done, so you’re free to do as you please until tomorrow. Just be here before nine-thirty. If possible, take a few photographs of the ship launch. We’d love to see them too.” When he heard that the day’s “work was done,” Laukol’s irritation instantly vanished. He grinned and assured them, “Don’t worry, no one knows Trieste better than I do. I’ll definitely get the best photos.” Before Du Cheng’en and the others could even say goodbye, he was already gone in a flash. Clearly, watching the excitement outside was far more interesting than work. When Du Cheng’en and his companions returned to the inn, they ran into the owner, James, who was just about to head out with a camera in hand. The old man greeted them enthusiastically, “Du, you came back at the perfect time. Did you know? A super battleship is being launched today. They say it’s a revolutionary design. You’re in luck, this is a moment in history. Come along with me and witness it for yourselves!” Most people might have been easily swayed, but Du Cheng’en knew better. The miserly innkeeper only ever showed such warmth when money was involved. He declined at once, “Sorry, Mr. James. We’ve been busy all morning and we’re really tired. We’ll pass on the honor of witnessing history.” Seeing his guests uninterested, James didn’t press further. He simply sighed, “What a pity. For just five guilders, we could have bought a great spot to watch history unfold.” At that moment, Du Cheng’en finally understood why both their guide and the innkeeper were so eager to invite them along. It sounded casual when James said “just five guilders,” but that amount was equivalent to a month’s wages for an ordinary laborer. Even as a merchant engaged in international trade, Du Cheng’en barely earned a profit of a thousand guilders per voyage after deducting all expenses. Times were changing, and the days of immense profits in maritime trade were fading away. The rise of large cargo ships had drastically squeezed profit margins. Du Cheng’en’s decision to leave the familiar Asian routes and risk trading in Europe had been forced by the fierce market competition. In fact, his visit to Trieste wasn’t just for trade. His main goal was to purchase a ten-thousand-ton cargo ship. As a businessman, Du Cheng’en had sharp foresight. With the steady growth of the global economy, demand for maritime freight capacity was increasing rapidly. But that demand was focused on large, cost-efficient freighters, not on outdated small and medium merchant ships like his own. If he didn’t want to be crushed by competitors, he had to adapt, buy a modern ship and secure his place in the market. As for witnessing history, that was for others. A small trader like him had no reason to get involved in the excitement. Still, deep down, Du Cheng’en was a little shocked. He had never imagined that even the Holy Roman Empire had turned a warship launch into a business opportunity. It just went to show that there was always a way to make money. Even as the world’s leading economy, the Holy Roman Navy still suffered from budget shortages. To raise funds for the navy, the Navy Ministry racked its brains. Selling viewing tickets was just one of the methods. Each seat costs five guilders. If ten thousand seats were sold, that would be fifty thousand guilders. Over time, even for the navy, that was not a small amount. Though the revenue might not be huge, the annual ticket income alone could easily fund the construction of another warship. As for confidentiality concerns, if someone with a telescope miles away could spot any classified details about the warship, then the Holy Roman Navy might as well give up its reputation. … With the sound of salutes echoing, Franz, who rarely appeared in public, stepped onto the dock. After all, this was the launching of the world’s first dreadnought. For any military enthusiast, it was a major event, and Franz was no exception. He could not possibly be absent from the history he himself had created. Besides, if the event was not made grand enough, how could they put real pressure on the British? The emperor’s presence was a political statement in itself. Anyone could see that, in the coming days, the Austrian government intended to greatly expand the navy. Navy Minister Castagni said, “Your Majesty, everything is ready. Shall we begin?” Franz smiled slightly and replied, “You go ahead and preside over it. I will not go up.” Witnessing history was one thing, but personally stepping aboard for the launching ceremony was too much to ask of an emperor who easily got seasick. Even if curiosity needed to be satisfied, that could wait until the ship’s fittings were completed. Hearing that the emperor would not board the ship, Castagni let out a sigh of relief. Boarding a ship whose hull had just been completed and whose interior was unfinished was far from a pleasant experience. If something were to happen to the aging emperor during the ceremony, it would be a disaster. No matter how healthy Franz was, he was still nearly seventy. In an age when even a cold could be deadly, no one dared risk letting the emperor experience the violent shaking of a ship’s launch. At the emperor’s command, the launching ceremony began. As the valves opened, the seawater rushed into the dock, striking the hull with a roar like surging waves. Every worker held their breath, fearing that something might go wrong with the ship at the final moment, which would be an international embarrassment. Apparently unaware of their tension, Emperor Franz asked with interest, “Frederick, what do you think this ship should be called?” The naming of the first dreadnought had sparked heated debate within the Austrian government. The initial plan was to name it after the emperor, but Franz firmly rejected that idea. He simply felt it was inauspicious since if the ship were ever sunk in battle, it would be bad luck. As the saying goes, the older one gets, the more one fears death, and Franz was no exception. Aside from that popular suggestion, the remaining proposed names were all over the place. More than fifty had been submitted to Franz alone. With so many choices, it was easy to feel overwhelmed. Now that the ship was already launching, a decision had to be made today for the public announcement. Franz was poor at naming things, and Frederick was no better. He blurted out, “Why not call it the Holy Roman Empire?” Franz rolled his eyes and said, “If we are going to name it after the Empire itself, we might as well just call it Roma! At least it is shorter and easier to say.” “Short” and “easy to say” thus became the final naming criteria, rather than political symbolism. If the story got out, no one would believe it. But since the emperor had spoken, no one objected. Roma was not a bad name. Even if it was not chosen for political reasons, the public would not know that. Once the propaganda department added a little interpretation, they could easily come up with a dozen meanings and grand reasons behind the name. It certainly would not seem ordinary.
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