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Chapter 1128: Winning in Northern Italy

Count Costantini recoiled nervously, his eyes darting toward the shadows. "Who... who exactly are you?"

Wilson maintained a calm, steady gaze. "Your most loyal friend, of course."

The Count stared at him for a long moment, his chest heaving, before finally nodding with conviction. "Fine, I believe you. How many guns can you secure?"

"Enough to satisfy your needs," Wilson replied, taking a slow sip of his coffee. He glanced up slightly. "However, for the time being, you will only receive one hundred. You must understand, my employer is a businessman. He wishes to see the strength of your organization before he commits to further investment."

Costantini’s heart hammered against his ribs. If the organization truly secured a large-scale shipment of weapons, the great cause of Italian unification would be accelerated by at least a decade!

He took a deep breath, steadying his voice. "What kind of demonstration of strength do you require?"

"It is quite simple..."

Ten days later.

Sir Norris looked over the front-page headlines of the Milan Morning Post, patting his assistant on the shoulder with a satisfied grin. "Wilson, you have done exceptionally well this time. The incident in Lucca might very well become the French version of the Boston Tea Party."

The newspaper reported that hundreds of protestors in Lucca had surrounded a French trade caravan heading for the outskirts of the city. Chanting slogans like "No French Goods," they had set fire to the entire shipment, incinerating furniture worth over a hundred thousand francs. When the police arrived, they found the protestors were actually armed and were forced to keep their distance. Ultimately, the protestors shouted their slogans one last time before dispersing into the city.

Wilson was also quite pleased with himself. "To be honest, I did not expect these Italian unificationists to have such significant influence."

In truth, protests involving thousands of people had broken out recently in places like Bergamo and Pisa. The crowds demanded that the government expel French influence and realize a United Northern Italy.

However, none of those protests had achieved the impact of the Lucca incident.

As the news spread, citizens across Northern Italy were debating whether to mimic the protestors in Lucca—except in the monarchies of Parma and Modena. Those states had immediately imposed a news blockade, leaving their populations unaware of the unrest.

As for the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, with its capital in Florence, it had become the most active breeding ground for the Young Italy organization.

It wasn't that Adrian was in league with them; it was simply because the man had been a struggling art dealer just two years ago and had no idea how to govern a nation. While Queen Caterina could manage routine administrative affairs, she was utterly helpless against the pervasive reach of nationalist organizations.

Sir Norris nodded. "It is time to have more flintlock muskets shipped over from Castel Volturno."

Castel Volturno was the westernmost city in the Kingdom of Naples, only a day and a half’s journey from Pisa by cargo ship.

King Ferdinand IV of Naples, who shared the same dynastic roots as the Spanish royalty, ostensibly followed Madrid’s lead in a foreign policy that leaned toward France. However, after all of Northern Italy joined the French-led trade and military systems, the Kingdom of Naples in the south became extremely wary of French expansion.

Furthermore, Ferdinand IV’s wife, Maria Carolina, was from the Habsburg family. Naturally, she did everything in her power to incite her husband’s hostility toward France.

Thus, when the British indicated they wanted to "do something" in Northern Italy, the Neapolitan government immediately agreed to provide covert assistance. The flintlock muskets bound for Pisa were being drawn directly from the armory at Castel Volturno.

Sir Norris turned to his valet. "Spano, notify Baron Bruch and the others to coordinate their actions with those lovely 'unificationists.'"

"Yes, milord."

"The results this time are unexpectedly good." Sir Norris poured a glass of wine and handed it to his assistant. "I almost feel we should provide them with a few cannons, haha."

Wilson accepted the glass, chuckling in agreement. "That would indeed be something to look forward to. However, it seems unnecessary to invest too much. After all, the French will likely send troops to suppress them soon. Whether it is the Austrians or the unificationists, no matter how many weapons we give them, they are no match for the French army."

The Baron Bruch that Norris had mentioned was a leader of the pro-Austrian faction in Northern Italy. Austria had ruled the region for over a century, and it was impossible to purge all their agents and collaborators in just a year or two. They were a vital tool for the British in their efforts to destabilize Italy.

Sir Norris smiled and shook his head. "No, no, there is a purpose to this. Only when those people possess more powerful weaponry will they have the confidence to do what they want to do. At the same time, they can inflict greater casualties on the French."

"And that will only further infuriate the French, driving them to retaliate against the insurgents with even more violent massacres."

"Ultimately, the seeds of hatred will grow rapidly. We will help the Northern Italians launch wave after wave of riots against France. The French will be forced to station a massive number of troops here just to maintain stability."

"Think back to the disastrous situation in North America years ago. Now, France shall taste that same bitter pain."

He and Wilson looked at each other and smiled, lightly clinking their glasses together.

In recent years, almost every British plot against France had met with failure. This time, however, they had absolute confidence in their success.

If France did not send troops to suppress the unrest, Northern Italy would be plagued by riots, French influence would be expelled, and the region might even move toward unification.

But if France did send an army into Italy, they would be sucked into a massive war of attrition. Austria would be more than happy to engage in another duel with the French on this battlefield.

When that happened, Britain would lead a coalition of other nations to launch an offensive from northern France. The war would be over in short order.

***

Paris.

The Palace of Versailles.

Joseph tossed the report that had just arrived from Madrid onto his desk and rubbed his temples in frustration.

He was suddenly beginning to understand Napoleon’s actions in history—at this moment, he very much wanted to march an army into Spain, fire every dim-witted minister he could find, and replace them with a king who possessed even a modicum of competence.

Half a month ago, he had been stunned when he received word of Spain’s sudden decision to send troops to Morocco.

Instead of concentrating their forces against the British-Portuguese Allied Forces and quickly consolidating the newly acquired Portuguese territories, they had impulsively decided to attack Morocco. It was practically handing the British a chance to catch their breath.

However, at that point, the Spanish expeditionary force had already landed in North Africa, and he couldn't exactly force the Spaniards to withdraw. Even if he tried, those "brilliant" ministers in Madrid likely wouldn't have listened.

At the time, Joseph estimated the war would be over in two or three months. After all, Moreau had previously managed to hold his own against Moroccan Imperial Guards several times his number using only a group of poorly trained young nobles. This time, the Spaniards were only facing tribal militias.

Yet, the report before him stated that the commander of the Spanish expeditionary force, Soldano, had actually sent ten thousand soldiers deep into the Rif Mountains to hunt for enemies, all because a single infantry regiment had been ambushed by a Moroccan tribe.