Life of Being a Crown Prince in France-Chapter 740 - 648 The Rivals Reunite Again

Chapter 740: Chapter 648: The Rivals Reunite Again

Chapter 740: Chapter 648: The Rivals Reunite Again

Two officers who spoke Italian burst into General Kem’s tent, clutching newspapers and forgetting even to salute, angrily shouting, “General, those damned reporters actually…”

“Absolutely cannot just let this go! General, let’s go settle the score with the French!”

These words seemed to stab directly into General Kem’s brain, infusing him with a surge of immense power. Yes, as long as he could surround those few thousand French troops and properly humiliate them, tomorrow’s newspaper headlines would be spectacular indeed.

As for invading Modena, ha, wasn’t it his to come and go as he pleased?

General Kem abruptly stood up, the words “Mobilize the troops” almost on his lips, but then he suddenly stopped.

He remembered the dolphins and irises he had seen on the flags of the French troops yesterday, indicating they belonged to the French Royal Guard Corps.

He had been through the battle of Legnica and witnessed firsthand how the French Guard, numbering less than ten thousand, had sliced into the much larger Prussian forces and pinned them west of the Austrian line.

And yet, out of his 30,000-strong army, only 4,000 were the elite of the Royal German Legion; the rest were the Bohemian Guard and the Hungarian Frontier Infantry. This was why the sudden sound of cannon fire had thrown the Austrian forces into disarray, as the latter two were assembled nearby and were of very average combat quality.

General Kem slowly sat back down.

Putting aside the danger of sparking a war between France and Austria on impulse, even if he recklessly sought to settle scores with the French, it was very much possible that he would only be humiliated once again by the few thousand French guards…

He looked sternly at the two officers and waved them away, “It was just an accident. Spread the word, from this moment on no one is to speak of this matter again.”

However, it seemed that the presses of the various Italian states enjoyed talking about the matter.

In just two or three days’ time, from Sardinia to the Two Sicilies, major newspapers were reprinting news from “The Genoa Business Messenger”. Of course, this was driven by Saigul’s funds.

Discussions were rife throughout Italy about “the Austrian Army getting scared witless by a few thousand French troops at the border of Parma”, and the stories became even more bizarre as they spread, morphing into “Austrian troops ran all the way back to Tuscany, leaving cannons and flintlock guns scattered everywhere,” and “The people of Terzuk Town even picked up General Kem’s carved toilet.”

What was supposed to be a demonstration of the Austrian Army’s formidable fighting power had ended up showcasing only a joke.

…

Palace of Versailles.

At the entrance to the Peace Hall, Count Rheinphels straightened his collar, ready to continue the “battle” with Bailly, his spirits high.

The situation in Italy was very favorable, and he believed the French would soon relent.

Just then, his assistant trotted over and handed him a letter, “My lord, this has just come from the envoy in Parma.”

Count Rheinphels opened the letter, and the smile on his face instantly froze.

The letter began by briefly stating the embarrassing incident of General Kem’s corps, and then mentioned that both Parma and the Two Sicilies were reconsidering the proposal to adjust tariffs on France. Tuscany had announced the imposition of tariffs on French goods—18% on fur products and porcelain, and a maximum of 3% on other goods.

The Austrian Foreign Minister crumpled the letter in his hand. Furs? Porcelain? These items weren’t even on France’s export list. And the most important goods such as wine, textiles, and furniture were only taxed at 1.5%. What difference did it make from not taxing them at all?!

These small states were very pragmatic; when two giants quarreled, naturally, they wouldn’t offend the one with bigger muscles.

The only one insisting on raising tariffs was Venice, a subject state of Austria.

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But Count Rheinphels knew that France would absolutely not give up the vast Austrian market just for a minor Venice.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the Peace Hall.

Indeed, today Bailly had decisively expressed that the “Rhine-Saone Treaty” must be respected, and France would not consider making any adjustments to it.

…

Half a month later.

Austria, Prague.

Franz II stepped out of St. Vitus Cathedral, his face completely devoid of the solemnity and majesty befitting a newly crowned King of Bohemia, instead muttering angrily under his breath.

“That incompetent Voratelle…those damnable French people…”

Voratelle was the surname of Count Rheinphels.

Franz II thought back to just yesterday when he had been discussing with his ministers about “unifying the Holy Roman Empire” and “making the Empire the master of the European Continent once again.” Yet, the reality was that he couldn’t even manage to get France to make trade concessions.

He suddenly turned and barked at an attendant, “Send that idiot Kem to manage the warehouses in Marlosh!”

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

Once Franz II had vented his anger, he immediately sank back into deep worry.

If the current trade situation couldn’t be changed, the Austrian market would surely be gradually taken over by France, and Austria’s trade revenue would continue to decline.

Even with ambitions rivaling those of Emperor Otto, they would always remain a mere fantasy without enough gold coins for support.

He then remembered the poor performance of the Austrian Army in Italy.

Clearly, the army needed to undergo a major reform. History-making kings all possessed invincible armies, and he was no exception.

And military reforms, too, required substantial funds.

Money had become an insurmountable mountain in front of him.

Franz II returned to the Royal Palace in Prague with a heavy heart, only to see Bathurst, the British Ambassador to Austria, waiting at the entrance.

The latter greeted him with a bow and went through a lengthy series of congratulatory formalities for the coronation; he then continued, “Your Majesty, a distinguished guest wishes to meet with you. I believe it is of great importance to both of you.”

Franz II asked in surprise, “Please tell me his name.”

“His Majesty William II, King of Prussia.”

“What is he doing here?” Franz II frowned. Prussia and Austria had been locked in bloody combat in Silesia just a year before, and now the King of Prussia wanted to come here?

However, the fact that the British were involved made him realize he had to treat the matter with caution.

The next day at noon.

A black carriage stopped in Lage Palace Square. An attendant opened the door, and William II stepped down, giving a distant bow to the Emperor of Sanctum, “Your Majesty, I had intended to attend your coronation ceremony. However, you know, the mud in Lusatia is incredibly vexing, which is why my arrival is so delayed.”

Franz II eyed the old Austrian adversary coldly, then showed a standard diplomatic smile, “Welcome, whether early or late, it always shows the respect due from an Elector.

“Oh, please come in.”

William II ignored the slight in the Emperor’s words about his status, followed him into the royal palace, and exchanged a few lukewarm pleasantries. Then, with a light cough, he said, “Ah, I’ve heard some news, it seems that Austria’s financial situation is not too optimistic of late.”