Holy Roman Empire-Chapter 1131 - 145, Bait

Chapter 1131 -145, Bait

The Persian battlefield wouldn’t be an issue either; after all, it’s just like squeezing soft persimmons. Even if the quality of military achievements needs to be discounted, quantity can still push one to prominence.

The problem is that once at the front lines, they were actually not allowed to fight. This was awkward, as everyone came out to build their careers, make a fortune, and gild their reputations—how could they do that without war?

If it were only about getting by day after day, why not stay in St. Petersburg or Moscow, rather than coming to this remote and desolate place?

The paltry military pay from the Tsarist Government was nowhere near enough for the nobility to sustain their luxurious lifestyle.

Without sparking war, not only could the officers at the front line not make money, but the bureaucracy in the rear was also affected financially.

Daily military expenses had a set formula, and even if one skimmed off the top, there had to be a basic livelihood left for the officers and soldiers below. Otherwise, if the lower ranks caused trouble, that would be a concern.

...

With such meager profits to be had, which then had to be shared at each level, very little was left for individuals, nowhere near satisfying everyone’s desires.

After being heavily skimmed off by the rear echelons, frontline officers like Colonel Si Krest had nothing left to scrape together.

If the fighting didn’t commence, Colonel Si Krest estimated that by the end of his tenure of a few years, he would not even recoup the funds spent on operational activities.

With his career not progressing well and finances bleak, Colonel Si Krest naturally felt despondent. At this moment, he was gazing at the distant Caucasus Mountains and sighing.

Behind those mountains lay his home, an average Russian nobility household that could fall from grace at any moment.

“Colonel, urgent telegram from the division headquarters.”

The voice of the messenger broke Colonel Si Krest’s contemplation. As he took the telegram, his frown deepened even more.

There was no choice; the telegram’s content was far too troublesome. A single sentence about Allied Forces passing through, without any specifics on how to proceed or any mention of responsibility, clearly showed an intent to avoid taking responsibility.

Such occurrences were far too common in the Russian Empire. Whenever there was an issue, everyone would push it away or dodge it; officials willing to take responsibility were scarce.

Now, this telegram did just that; merely notifying him without specific instructions or authorization, passing the matter over to Colonel Si Krest.

“Colonel, the Austrian army is passing through our defense line, and it’s said they want to join us in attacking Persia. Captain Hashpi is inquiring whether to intercept?”

No sooner had the division headquarters’ telegram arrived than the Austrian army reached his defense zone. If there were no issues, Colonel Si Krest could write his name backwards.

“Intercept my ass, tell Captain Hashpi to figure it out himself. Order the troops to immediately assemble and prepare to launch an attack on Persia.”

Regardless of whether they could be stopped, without domestic orders, if a conflict broke out during the interception, Colonel Si Krest couldn’t shoulder the responsibility.

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Of course, allowing the Austrian army to enter and advance on Persia without authorization also meant accepting responsibility.

But now, bureaucrats at home and high-ranking officers of the Russian Army at the front all aimed to harvest military achievements.

Taking the initiative to bear the responsibility, at least it aligned with everyone’s wishes; when it came time for accountability, someone might speak up in his defense.

Regardless, the face of the Russian-Austrian Alliance had to be considered. The crime of cooperating with the Austrian army couldn’t be publicly acknowledged. If they had to settle scores later, it would only mean petty obstructions.

If some military achievements could be gained on the battlefield, then even those petty obstructions wouldn’t be applied too publicly, lest it dampens morale—certainly not before the war ends.

Troubles after the war, those were nothing at all. The government had been stable for so long, and it was about time for a change of personnel.

“Power begets fear in rulers,” is a taboo in any country. Nicholas II must have been quite patient to have tolerated a group of old officials for so long.

If the war were won beautifully, the government’s prestige would have increased further, which would surely have aroused the Tsar’s jealousy; if the performance in the war were poor and the government needed to take the blame, changes would have been necessary.

With so many domestic troubles already, Colonel Si Krest didn’t believe the Tsar would care about such a small fry as him.

…

On the battlefield, the enemy’s machine guns were firing wildly. Many black columns of smoke from exploding shells rose like whirlwinds into the sky over the mile-wide area of sandy terrain, already pockmarked by craters. The attacking waves broke apart, tumbling like splashes of water from the sides of shell holes.

Crawl, crawl… The tight sweeps of black fireworks from exploding shells ravaged the earth more closely, while the shrill screams of shrapnel shells poured more densely onto the bodies of the attackers, as the machine gun fire stuck close to the ground became more ruthlessly sweeping.

Major General Chris roared, “Urge the air force to hurry up, we need more fire support!”

There was no choice; speed was of the essence in an assault by way of a borrowed route, and the heavy artillery units were still on their way.

They had thought that the Russian Army’s artillery could suppress the enemy’s firepower, but reality was cruel. The Tsarist Government did not take Persia seriously at all and had not deployed enough heavy artillery.

Officers of the Russian Army, including Colonel Si Krest, were now red-faced and flushed with embarrassment, unable even to suppress the Persian people’s firepower; it was truly shameful for them in the eyes of their allies.

“Attack!”

“Attack!”

…

In order to regain face and prove their strength, the Russian Army’s officers had no choice but to urge the troops to accelerate the attack after the arrival of the Shinra Air Force.

Now was not the time to conserve strength; if they couldn’t prove their might before their allies, many issues later would be off the table.

Everyone had joined the battle to rise in rank and make a fortune, not to be an idle bystander. The battlefield was always the stage for the strong, where the right to speak and the distribution of interests were determined by power.

Faced with an assault from both the Shinra and Russian Empire, the Persian defense line which stood unbroken had been a source of pride.

But such pride could not last; every defense line has its limit, and the extended battlefront was continuously squeezing the limits of the Persian Empire.

The British allies, on whom high hopes had been pinned, had failed to play their due role. The dispatched Indian Colonial Army was good for nothing, topping the list in creating chaos.

Accompanied by intense artillery fire and battle cries, the Persian defenders under heavy pressure eventually collapsed.

Morale, once broken, would plummet rapidly. Facing the offensive of two empires, the hearts of the Persian people were shattered.

…

Victory always brings a good mood, and Franz’s spirits were rising with the smooth progress of the war.

For the global war as a whole, the breakthrough in the Persian battlefield was but an episode. But for the British, who regarded India as their lifeline, it was definitely a blow.

Especially since the Russians had appeared on the battlefield. Although there was a sense of being coerced, the Russians indeed had joined the fray.

Regardless of whether the Russians would attack India from Afghanistan next, the British Government was now under tremendous pressure.

As the enemy was feeling uncomfortable, Franz naturally felt at ease. In his spare time, he once again indulged in his “art.”

Not just playing by himself, but also involving a bunch of his grandkids in the fun. Franz was too lazy to care about the impact that the spread of this hybrid art would have on future generations.

Perhaps it would be severely criticized by experts and scholars, or it might even give rise to a new artistic genre. After all, the future was full of uncertainties.

What decided all this was not any particular art form, but rather politics. The essence of art lay in its acceptance by the masses, yet such acceptance hinged on the social context.

A glance at the history books would reveal that popular art and culture varied at different stages of human development.

The music of taverns and refined melodies were both components of art, fundamentally without any superiority between them. It was only that their social status differed at various periods.

Art that was lowbrow today might become high society tomorrow; the art of the upper class today could be marginalized tomorrow as well.

If the dominance of the Holy Roman Empire could continue for a hundred years, it would be an immortal feat in driving the grand integration of Eastern and Western cultures and the process of human unification.

On the contrary, if the dominance of the Holy Roman Empire proved to be fleeting, then there would be no thereafter; it would simply vanish into the annals of history.

As an emperor, especially one who led a declining empire back to its peak, he was bound to be deeply analyzed by later generations.

Time aged people, and looking at his grandchildren sufficient to form a soccer team, Franz realized he truly was old.

At Franz’s age, if it weren’t for the European royal family’s tendency to marry late, the fourth generation would be present, and possibly even the fifth might be on its way.

Fortunately, he had a rich inheritance. If this were a common household, supporting so many mouths would not be considered a blessing of fertility.

Many families might birth a dozen children, but if half of them survived to adulthood, it indicated that the household was at least making ends meet.

“Father, the Russians have sent troops to India!”

Frederick’s voice interrupted, pulling Franz from his reverie.

“Oh, it seems Nicholas II hasn’t mastered his pacing yet. We haven’t even agreed to their terms!”

Having outlived three tsars, Franz, now an antiquity among the European royal families, felt entitled to tease his juniors.

It seemed a casual remark, but Franz had already begun to ponder deeply. The Russian army’s deployment to India was not to be underestimated.

In the short term, it indeed might hasten the victory in war, but the Russians needed their share of the spoils.

Given the Bear’s manner, once they devoured their portion, it wouldn’t be relinquished. Franz might have consented if it was any other place.

But India was different; it might be a burden in the future, yet it was currently a land of uncommon wealth.

If left unchecked, who knew how much territory the Russian Army might occupy before the end of the war?

Even though the Vienna Government had no intention of colonializing India, it didn’t mean they were willing to forfeit the Indian market, especially not to let it fall into Russian hands.

Otherwise, the Tsarist Government could use the wealth plundered from India to overcome their fiscal challenges, while simultaneously relying on the Indian market to perfect and expand their industrial system.

A Russian Empire without shortcomings was utterly terrifying. Despite the adage “prosperity breeds complacency, adversity breeds strength,” Franz had no intention of leaving such a pitfall for posterity.

After pacing for a few steps and seemingly struck by a thought, Franz looked at Frederick and asked, “What are your plans to respond?”

Preventing the Russians from sending troops to seize territories was evidently impossible. The Russian Empire was merely an ally of Shinra, not a subordinate, and thus not so compliant.

As an ally launching an attack on the enemy, on the surface, there was no reason for reproach. Even with limited means, the Vienna Government could not afford to act recklessly now for the stability of the Continental Alliance.

Allies who didn’t obey were a headache for the dominator, especially a would-be dominator with competitors; such a dominator had much to consider before acting.

A single misstep, breaking the rules of the game, and provoking public outrage, meant that the Vienna Government would find itself in an untenable position.

But failing to act and allowing the Russians to grow stronger was even more out of the question.

Difficult as it was, the situation had to be addressed. Franz passed the problem to Frederick, wanting to see how far his successor had developed the ability to adapt and grow.

“Accelerate the pace of war, conclude the conflict before the Russians can occupy India, and if need be, discuss matters with the British.

In the long run, the British threat is far less than that of Russia. Just by taking their colonies, the British Isles could at most sustain a second-rate nation.”

After pausing, Frederick added, “To avoid a direct confrontation with the Russians, affecting our current operations against Britain, we can form a Continental Army and, under the banner of the Alliance, push from Persia into India.

In the future, we can share the spoils of India with all European countries. When disputes arise that require haggling, we can encourage Europe to step up.

When necessary, we can exacerbate the tensions between the European world and the Russians, and draw together European countries to contain the Russian Empire.”

The actions proposed at first were standard, but the plans that followed were the essence of Franz-style diplomacy.

Many outsiders only saw the prowess of the Vienna Government’s diplomacy, but overlooked how many interests the government had shared with allies along the way.

Regardless of whether or not there was a trap, the benefits were indeed put forth. If one couldn’t digest what they consumed, it was their own problem, not because the Vienna Government had given too much.

Without such willingness to share, there would be no Holy Roman Empire today. The key feature of this sharing was to grasp the “measure.”

For the sake of this “measure”, seemingly foolish actions often had to be undertaken.

But this operation was incredibly complex; if you dug the pit in the wrong place and others avoided it, only for you to fall in yourself, then you would be the true fool.

Franz nodded, “Merely sharing isn’t enough; to get European countries to put in substantial effort, we must invest heavily.

We can inform them that the Empire will not seek colonies in the Indian region. After the war, we will reconstruct the international order, define the sphere of influence for each country, and ensure their colonies are not threatened by foreign powers.

The distribution of war spoils remains the old rule: according to contribution in the war, those interested in India can now use whatever means they have.”

Ambitions are stirred up; if Shinra were to vie for India, apart from the Russians, other countries would stand no chance.

Merely promising to share benefits is far too nebulous and hardly at all mobilizing everyone’s enthusiasm.

But to offer the whole of India is another matter entirely; such a large pie, even if all European countries shared it, each could get their fill.

Just look at the wealth the British plunder every year from India, which is more than the total fiscal income of all the governments in Europe, excluding Russia-Austria-France.

With such significant interests, and the Vienna Government willing to provide security protection, it would be astonishing if such an offer didn’t stir up everyone’s ambition. If not, they would truly be dead in the water.

Of course, it’s understandable for small-fish countries. Take the tiny state of Monaco, for example; even after being cared for by the Vienna Government following the European wars, it only has a few towns.

Other than shouting slogans, they’re not even eligible to join the fray; in that case, there’s really nothing that can be done.