Re: Blood and Iron-Chapter 391: Aggressive Negotiations Part I

The train from Berlin to Vienna was not as arduous a journey as Bruno had anticipated. However, the moment he crossed the border, it felt as though he had stepped into an entirely different world.

Once fertile and productive, the land now lay barren—not by design, but as a symptom of societal collapse. Farmers, too addicted to substances, neglected their fields, lost in stupors of intoxication.

The young men returning from war, having seen too much violence and indulged in too many government-issued narcotics, were in no state to rebuild their lives, let alone their homeland. Of all the crises plaguing the Austro-Hungarian Empire—long-standing issues left to fester for decades—addiction had been the least expected yet the most insidious.

What should have taken years to unravel had instead spiraled into full-scale disintegration within a single year. By the end of august, violence, hyperinflation, corruption, and unrest had reached such extremes that the once-mighty Habsburg realm was teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Bruno struggled to comprehend how swiftly this pestilence had consumed the land. The once-beautiful countryside had become a wasteland, its aura akin to a post-apocalyptic landscape ravaged by war.

Vienna, once a beacon of art and culture, now resembled a vast homeless encampment. In just six months, the city had devolved into desperation, with people resorting to whatever means necessary to survive.

Theft, racketeering, drug smuggling, counterfeiting, and every imaginable vice flourished, transactions made in silver and gold bullion rather than the virtually worthless Austro-Hungarian banknotes.

Bruno was repulsed by the Weimar-esque degeneration that had overtaken what had once been a thriving metropolis. Shielded by his bodyguards, he surveyed the streets with disdain, voicing his grim assessment aloud.

"Crime, despair, hedonism… This is not how man was meant to live. I almost wonder if it would be better to burn this city to the ground and start anew rather than try to reverse the tide of sin that has consumed it."

His men remained silent, offering no response to his impassioned words. Instead, they reminded him of his impending appointment.

"Sir… The Emperor is awaiting your arrival at the Hofburg. If we delay any further, we risk arriving late."

Bruno was well aware of the time. He fastened his outer coat over his dress shirt and vest, ensuring his appearance remained regal yet formally civilian.

His only adornments were the grand sash of the Royal Order of Saint Stephen of Hungary, its star pinned to his chest and its chain draped around his neck. The striking ensemble left no doubt—this man was of noble birth.

Though displaying such wealth in these desperate times carried certain risks, Bruno strode toward the imperial palace with unshaken confidence, undeterred by the potential dangers. At the palace entrance, the Austrian Emperor himself greeted him, his gratitude evident.

"Generalfeldmarschall, you look quite distinguished—almost like a native Austrian. It is a pity your visit is marred by the state of this city. Shameful, truly shameful, what has become of this country! Lawlessness! Corruption! Something must be done!"

Bruno accepted the compliment with a respectful bow before being ushered inside. The stench of decay lingered even here, a repugnant reminder of the city’s suffering.

"Your Majesty, I am unworthy of such praise, but I must agree with your assessment. The state of Vienna is far worse than I had imagined. However, for you, your family, and your people, I may have a solution. Let us discuss this matter further in a more secure setting."

His words carried an unspoken warning—Vienna was no longer safe. The Austrian Leibgarde patrolled the palace grounds in force, their ceremonial uniforms replaced by combat gear. Elements of the army stood guard, reinforcing security measures.

This was not merely for Bruno’s visit; loyalists to the crown had taken up permanent residence within the Archduke’s home, a stark reflection of the unrest outside its gates. Violence had already erupted. Rioters had been shot while attempting to set fire to the Emperor’s residence, enraged that the monarchy still lived in opulence while they struggled to survive.

Yet the Habsburgs were not to blame. Their wealth had been secured centuries ago, ensuring their continued prosperity even in dire times. If the people had any sense, they would direct their fury at the corrupt politicians and bureaucrats who had sold out their futures, indulging in debauchery while their citizens suffered.

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Unfortunately, the head of state often bore responsibility for the actions committed under his rule, even when beyond his control. Constitutionalism had stripped many sovereigns of their power, leaving them unable to purge the parasites within their own governments.

Acknowledging the pressing dangers, Franz Joseph hastened Bruno inside. Once within the sanctuary of his private office, the Emperor expressed his personal gratitude before addressing the crisis at hand.

"I owe you my life… If not for you, I would not have lived to see spring, let alone this dreadful autumn. The medicine your company produces cured my pneumonia. My doctor said that at my age, my survival chances were next to none.

And yet, I wonder… would it have been better if I had perished in November? To witness the death of my empire in my final days… it is a fate I would have preferred to avoid. The last sight I shall behold before death takes me is the undoing of my life’s work."

Bruno sighed, accepting the drink the Emperor offered. He took a measured sip before responding with diplomacy, tact, and sincerity.

"That is precisely why I am here, Your Majesty. I cannot stand idly by while Austria burns, not when Germany is on the cusp of a new era of prosperity. Our peoples belong together—culturally, ethnically, historically.

The only thing that has kept us apart is the bad blood between your house and my Kaiser’s. But that is not why I have come. I am here to ensure your people no longer endure this suffering.

Say the word, and my wife’s charities will flood your lands with food, water, medicine, and the resources we have already employed in Germany to combat the addiction crisis. If necessary, I can deploy paramilitary forces to stabilize your territories.

We may not be able to save the lands of Saint Stephen, but together, we can preserve Austria in all its glory. Let us not descend into madness and despair when salvation is still within our grasp."

A long silence followed. Franz Joseph weighed the gravity of Bruno’s offer. To accept meant abandoning Transleithania to its fate while securing the majority of what was Cisleithania from the flames of war.

Law and order would be restored. Corrupt politicians, bureaucrats, and criminals who preyed upon the innocent could be dealt with swiftly, justice delivered with a bullet to the back of the head. But the ultimate price was clear—his sovereignty.

Even so, if the empire was doomed to fall, he had a duty to save what he could. Thus, the negotiations began. A formal agreement would be forged, and history would be reshaped once more.