With the commissioning of the Roma, the atmosphere of war across the world suddenly grew tense. Relations between the Holy Roman Empire and Britain, the two global giants, became strained, and all other nations were terrified, fearing that a single misstep could drag them into the conflict and shatter them completely. Then an interesting scene unfolded. After the Austrian government and the British government announced their shipbuilding programs, officially launching a naval arms race, the rest of the world responded with utter indifference. Not only did they refrain from building “super battleships,” but even regular warship construction was rare. It seemed as though they had collectively decided to counter this arms race through simple disregard. And in a way, that made sense. The dominance of the Holy Roman Empire and Britain had long been established. Each nation’s navy was stronger than the combined fleets of the next several countries ranked below them. With such an overwhelming disparity, struggling would be pointless, so they simply accepted their fate. Since there was no hope of catching up, why waste resources just to invite trouble? The main problem was that even those who wanted to follow suit couldn’t. The industrial strength of Britain and the Holy Roman Empire allowed them to construct super battleships, but that didn’t mean other countries could do the same. Leaving aside other issues, even the propulsion systems were beyond most nations’ capabilities. The Roma’s propulsion system, for instance, produced 23,000 horsepower, a figure that might suggest advanced technology, but in reality, most warships still operated with less than 10,000 horsepower. For comparison, the South Carolina-class battleships built by the United States in the original timeline ten years later were equipped with compound steam engines generating only 16,500 horsepower. At this point in time, only Britain and the Holy Roman Empire had achieved breakthroughs in steam turbine technology. Without adequate propulsion, ships lacked speed. When they could win, they couldn’t catch the enemy; when they couldn’t win, they couldn’t escape. A snail-paced battleship was nothing but a waste of resources, serving no practical purpose at all. It wasn’t just propulsion technology that lagged behind; weaponry, fire control, armor, and a host of other factors also stood as obstacles preventing most nations from entering the dreadnought era. Of course, if a country was wealthy enough and didn’t care about losses or costs, it could theoretically make progress by simply throwing money at the problem. Unfortunately, this was the year 1900, a time utterly unfriendly to the nouveau riche. Being rich but technologically backward only made one a meal on the table of the great powers. There was no real opportunity to develop by spending recklessly. The lack of followers made the arms race lose much of its luster. Franz, who had hoped to profit by exporting dreadnought technology, was greatly disappointed. There was nothing to be done since at this point in history, most nations were simply too poor. They couldn’t afford to play with such expensive toys, leaving only Austria and Britain to compete. Even the ambitious Russian government fell silent after learning of the Roma’s construction cost. The other countries didn’t even bother to comment. Perhaps because there was no audience, the two leading performers, Austria and Britain, quickly lost enthusiasm. In the subsequent stages of competition, their governments spent more time exchanging sharp words than taking real action. That imagined scene of “today you announce two ships, tomorrow I announce three, and the next day you announce four” never came to pass. The Austrian government announced a “five ships in five years” program, while the British government responded with a “five years, seven ships” plan. Including the Roma, the difference between the two navies amounted to only one vessel. Britain maintained a slight edge, but not a decisive one. After all, the Holy Roman Navy operated mainly within the Mediterranean, where it enjoyed a significant geographic advantage. Both governments showed a degree of restraint during the competition, which greatly disappointed the onlookers while also allowing them to breathe a sigh of relief. There were plenty of people hoping to see Britain and Austria suffer setbacks, but very few who truly wanted to see them go to war. The smaller European nations in particular feared that if these two “demons” started fighting, ordinary countries like theirs would be dragged into the chaos. The situation remained relatively calm because the rivalry between the two powers had not yet reached a fever pitch. Their main conflict revolved around global hegemony, with the core issue centered on currency. The contest between the Guilder and the Pound as world currencies had begun twenty years earlier. Although no clear winner had emerged, both sides had more or less defined their respective spheres of influence. Generally speaking, the European continent, Africa, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia were within the Guilder’s circulation zone, while the Americas, South Asia, and the Far East remained dominated by the Pound. Beyond the struggle for monetary supremacy, Britain and Austria had also clashed repeatedly in overseas trade, though these disputes were not as fierce. Due to differences in industrial structure, the trade landscape had settled into a pattern: Britain maintained dominance in traditional sectors such as textiles, while the Holy Roman Empire held the advantage in emerging industries and agricultural processing. As for colonial disputes, they were barely worth mentioning. The Holy Roman Empire had not expanded toward India, and Britain had not extended its reach in Africa; neither had crossed the other’s bottom line. Tensions could always build up over time, however. The fact that their interests didn’t yet collide seriously did not mean they never would. Time was on his side, and Franz had the patience to wait. It was Britain that ought to feel anxious. Yet given Britain’s unique political system, the leaders in the British government probably weren’t too worried either. “Potential threats,” after all, were still only “potential.” For politicians, as long as the crisis did not explode during their term, everything was negotiable. It was the same no matter who governed. Preserving the glory of the “Victorian Era” was far more important than exposing the truth too soon and eliminating a “potential” threat. More importantly, the Holy Roman Empire, this so-called “potential threat,” posed too great a danger to Britain. It was like a man in the late stages of cancer: undergoing surgery was easy, but surviving the operation was not. Winning the gamble might extend one’s life for a few years, but the greater likelihood was ending up paralyzed in bed for the rest of one’s days. On the contrary, conservative treatment could at least keep the patient alive and moving for a while. Though the end was inevitable, that was a problem for the future. With how fast the times were changing, perhaps in those final months, medical science would suddenly make a breakthrough. The British government was most likely thinking along those lines. On one hand, it sought ways to contain and weaken the Holy Roman Empire; on the other, it avoided tearing relations apart completely, waiting instead for international circumstances to shift in its favor. … No matter how many schemes were at play, life went on. After more than twenty years at the helm of the Austrian government, the cabinet finally came to the end of its term. This time, Franz no longer tried to persuade the ministers to stay, as old age had caught up with them and their bodies could no longer bear the burdens of governing an empire. A change of administration had become inevitable. A “government transition” was a major event in any country, and the Holy Roman Empire was no exception. In a sense, the limited scale of the arms race was partly due to this very transition. Before the new leadership could take office, the Austrian government’s main task was to sort out domestic affairs, leaving little energy for external ventures. The same held true for Britain. Just a few months earlier, the British government had gone through a general election. This time, however, the British did not make a fuss; the same group in the British government had managed to win re-election. … At the Hofburg Palace, Franz was spending his afternoon in the art gallery, quietly appreciating the exhibits. Of course, that was how it looked to outsiders. To Franz himself, “pretending to be cultured” seemed a far more accurate description. “Art,” that lofty and refined thing, was never something ordinary people could truly appreciate. Franz even suspected at times that it was merely an invention of the elite, created as a clever way to harvest the wealth of newly rich upstarts. Still, suspicion was one thing, and investigation another. As the supreme representative of the ruling class, Franz maintained great tolerance for anything that served the interests of governance. Though he lacked artistic talent and his creative ability was mediocre at best, that did not stop Franz from becoming a great artist. Thanks to his imperial status, anything that bore his signature, be it calligraphy, painting, or any other craft, was instantly elevated to the rank of art. Franz had no doubt that even his random sketches could fetch a fortune if sold. Of course, that was only a thought. As a wealthy emperor, he had not yet sunk to the level of selling his own works for a living. If any of his pieces ended up outside the palace, it was because he had given them away. Rarity brought value, after all. Once any artwork became too common, its price would fall, and that was the lesser problem. The real issue was that it would diminish his sense of prestige. As emperor, Franz could afford to ignore the price of his works, but he could never afford to lose his dignity. While Franz leisurely wielded his brush, practicing calligraphy on paper, the hurriedly arriving Frederick looked visibly displeased. He had been running himself ragged over the upcoming government transition, while the emperor sat there as if nothing were happening. Anyone in his position would have felt the same frustration. There was nothing he could do about the imbalance; the simple phrase, “to hone your abilities,” was enough to shut down all his arguments. Without taking a break, Frederick panted and said, “Father, this is the final shortlist. There are forty-six people in total, and each position in the cabinet has three to five candidates.” “Mm!” “Set it aside for now. Find a place to rest, and I’ll let you know when I’m done.” Franz answered casually. “All right.” Seeing this unfold, Frederick had to face a reality. The diligent emperor of the past no longer existed. Recalling past memories, Frederick suddenly realized that in all his recollections, he had never truly seen his father busy. Even when overtime was needed, it was only during special periods. Normally, Franz adhered to a four-hour workday and took irregular vacations. Frederick still could not understand why a father so leisurely could be regarded as a model of diligence. After a short while, the work was finally finished. Franz put down his pen, stretched his legs, and then opened the file to browse through it. “Not bad. The candidates’ information is complete, and the evaluations are fair. No one who does not deserve it has slipped in. It seems you’ve done your homework well. These candidates, whether in terms of achievements or political skill, are all top-notch. Whoever you favor, put their names first, and at the next Imperial Diet meeting, you can nominate them directly for election.” Unlike the elections of government leaders in other countries at the same time, the Holy Roman Empire still followed the system where the emperor nominated candidates, and the Imperial Diet voted to elect them. There were two main criteria for a candidate’s qualification. First, they had to have sufficient political achievements and outstanding political skills. Second, they had to be a steadfast supporter of the monarchy politically. The second point was especially important. A minor lack of ability could be tolerated, but any political flaw was completely unacceptable. The Holy Roman Empire was so large that it was never short of capable officials. According to the constitution, cabinet candidates nominated by the emperor could include any high-ranking officials. Selecting a full cabinet from several hundred candidates was almost a one-in-a-hundred choice; there was plenty of room to choose. Anyone who made it to this position was no fool. Those lacking ability would have been eliminated in the earlier rounds of competition. All of them had previously governed a region, so whoever ended up in the cabinet could guarantee the normal operation of the government. Otherwise, Franz would not have consistently remained uninvolved and left everything for Frederick to handle. After so many years of effort, the smaller states within the Holy Roman Empire had largely been brought into Franz’s fold. Any who remained discontented did not dare to cause trouble under the circumstances. The Imperial Diet itself was proof. Any proposal personally put forward by Franz had never been rejected. Hearing that the entire responsibility was handed over to him, Frederick asked in disbelief, “Am I really being entrusted with choosing all the candidates? Isn’t that a bit too…” Before Frederick could finish, Franz waved him off and said, “There is no ‘a bit too much’ about it. This work will fall to you sooner or later. It is only a little earlier than planned. What you must do now is pick the best possible government team and ensure a smooth transfer of power. Beyond that, you must keep an eye on the shifting international situation. Recently the number of laborers being sent from France to Russia has dropped sharply. It looks like the Trans-Siberian Railway now has enough workers. If my judgment is correct, it will not be long before the Russians withdraw their troops from France. At this point the Russian government should have realized the truth. The reparations from France are like the moon on the water. You can see them, but you cannot touch them. France has been so thoroughly ruined that there is nothing left for the Russian government to cling to. Whether the Russians want to move south or press eastward, keeping troops in France is meaningless. If it were not for the Trans-Siberian Railway, they probably would have already backed off two years ago. Dragging it out this long has already been a struggle. When the Russian army pulls back, the gap they leave must be filled by other means. France is a great nation with a long historical legacy. Although it has been dealt a heavy blow in recent years, its pride has not been wiped out. We have been entangled with the French for centuries. It took great effort to subdue them, and we cannot allow them to rise again. The Russians have already done much of the dirty work. What we must do next is spread antiwar sentiment within France. When their fighting spirit is worn down, only then can normal relations be restored.” Defeating a great power is one thing, but breaking one is another. The older and more deeply rooted a nation’s traditions and culture are, the harder it is to crush it. After years of upheaval, the French still refused to give up. The Russian government was nearly exhausted from the strain. If the Austrian government had not covered the costs of the campaign, Russia would have long since been brought to its knees. Reality, however, was brutal. The more fiercely the French resisted, the more the Anti‑French Alliance had to ensure that France could not recover. That was the advantage of having many partners. No matter how harsh the measures taken against France, the allies could act without fearing international intervention. The Russians had already done what violence could achieve. Now it was time for politics to take the stage. Whether France’s elites liked it or not, as long as they refused to accept de-escalation, France could not return to normal. Only when anti‑war sentiment became mainstream and society recognized the wrongness of launching aggressive wars could France begin to function as a normal state again. Of course, occupation forces and limits on armaments would still be needed. Franz had no intention of allowing the French to rearm and cause trouble again. In that sense, the Russian army had done its part. They had sent dissenters to their graves and conscripted the working-age men of implicated families to Siberia to build railways. Though the French hated them to the bone, the bloodletting by Russian forces prevented any large-scale uprisings. There was no avoiding the reality that France’s mountainous regions were too small to provide secure refuge. Facing a Russian commander who favored scorched-earth tactics, guerrillas found little space to survive. Over the past years, the Russians burned hillsides so often that they consumed millions of liters of fuel annually. If the Holy Roman Empire were not the world’s leading oil producer, such consumption would have been unsustainable. At the current pace of destruction, if the Russian army kept burning, the forests would eventually be gone. With a successful example in hand, others would only follow and learn. The Holy Roman Empire might not have everything, but it certainly had oil. There was no need to actually burn the mountains to the ground. A show of force would do. Scare those intellectuals, break their hopes, and the result would be the same. Frederick, realizing what Franz meant, asked uncertainly, “Do you mean we should carve up France again?” Frederick was not being fanciful. France had been hollowed out over the past few years. Its economy lay in ruins and its population had fallen sharply. If the Austrian government dragged a few allies in, the odds of a fresh partition would be high. Franz answered sternly, “Don’t be absurd. We already settled accounts with France after the Continental War. If we try another round now, on what grounds would they accept it? Unless you want to live every day fearing an assassination, you must have a convincing, lawful reason before you take such action. Otherwise you are asking for blood in the streets. Besides, with France gone, do you really think Spain, Switzerland, Belgium or Sardinia would remain so dependent on us?” Losing a war, ceding territory and paying reparations were the accepted rules in Europe. Taking back Habsburg lands could be justified by law and reason. Over time the French might come to terms with it. With Russia playing the main role in stoking resentment, few would put the blame squarely on the Habsburgs. If we tried another round of partition now, there would be no excuse. Every Frenchman, one by one, would hate the Holy Roman Empire with a burning grudge. Assassins aiming at the emperor would be inevitable. Unless we wiped out every last one of them, Franz would not dare step outside. Even with numerous guards, anyone who walks often by the river risks getting their shoes wet. Being the leader of an alliance is no easy task. The Anti‑French Alliance only held together because of the idea of a French threat. Remove France as the common enemy and the coalition would quickly fall apart.
[Previous | Table of Contents | Next]
Comments
Post a Comment