Chapter 1186: Eastern European Strategy
"So... who is the Tsar now?" Alexandra turned to the envoy. "Alexander?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Count Morkov replied, his head bowed low.
Alexandra waved her hand dismissively, a faint smile on her lips. "Perhaps he should have done this long ago. My father's methods were indeed unwise. Let him go fishing on the Moika River; it is better than bickering with his ministers every day..."
"Your Highness," Morkov interrupted, gritting his teeth. "His Majesty Paul... he has returned to the kingdom of heaven."
The girl's smile froze. "What did you say?"
"Your father accidentally fell, and a candlestick pierced his chest... This happened half a month ago."
"You aren't joking, are you?"
"It is the truth, Your Highness."
Alexandra suddenly turned her back, a low growl escaping her throat. "That greedy, cold-blooded vulture! He couldn't even wait for the time it took to sign an abdication decree before he rushed in to tear at the flesh! Even hell cannot contain his sins!"
She fought to suppress her swirling emotions and asked, "Who did it? Zubov? Or some duke whose hereditary privileges were revoked?"
"I... I do not know what you are talking about, Your Highness. I shall take my leave now."
As Joseph entered the gates of the Palace of Versailles, Camelia quickly moved to his side and whispered, "Your Highness, the Crown Princess is in a very bad state."
Joseph sighed and nodded. "I understand."
Ten minutes later, Alexandra collapsed into Joseph's arms, sobbing quietly. "Even though he was very fierce, I still loved him...
"That devil, that serpent... why would he do such a thing? I will never forgive him..."
Joseph gently stroked her hair, offering comfort. "You can go to the small altar at the Tuileries Palace to pray for him."
'If this is a nightmare, please let me wake up soon...'
After crying for an unknown length of time, the girl fell into a deep sleep in Joseph's arms.
Joseph carefully lifted her and placed her on the bed, wiping the tear stains from the corners of her eyes. Only then did he let out a long breath and turn toward his drawing room.
Brienne, Talleyrand, and the others were already waiting. Seeing the Crown Prince arrive, they hastily bowed with their hands over their chests. "Your Highness, is the Crown Princess alright?"
"She is devastated."
Joseph shook his head and gestured for the senior ministers to sit. "Now, we must discuss the situation in Eastern Europe."
Talleyrand spoke up immediately. "Your Highness, Britain, Prussia, and Austria could launch a war at any moment. I believe the best strategy currently is to try and win Russia over to our side as much as possible."
Joseph shook his head slightly. He knew very well that Alexander I was a highly ambitious Tsar, a man adept at opportunism yet incredibly stubborn.
Such a person had likely already made his decision by now.
"It would be best if he stands with us," Joseph said calmly, looking at the men. "But we must also make preparations in advance."
Talleyrand continued, "If Russia wants to interfere in the European theater, they must first break through Poland."
Poland sat squarely between Russia and Central Europe. The Russian army had to cross Poland to reach Austria.
The Duke of Broglie nodded. "We can increase our garrison at the port of Gdańsk and help the Poles strengthen their armaments at the same time."
France held shares in the port of Gdańsk, so they had always maintained a garrison of several hundred men there.
The ministers all looked toward the Crown Prince simultaneously.
Joseph, however, did not hesitate. "We can send some weapons and equipment to Poland; we can ask the Danes to help with that. However, all troops stationed in Gdańsk must be withdrawn."
The men in the room looked at each other in dismay.
Joseph had expected this reaction and continued, "Gentlemen, if Russia joins forces with Prussia and Austria to attack Poland, how long do you think the Polish army can hold out?"
The Duke of Broglie hesitated. "If they are well-prepared, perhaps about two months."
The others remained silent. Since the last war of national defense, Poland's national strength had never truly recovered.
Furthermore, the Russians certainly wouldn't give the Poles a chance for a sneak attack this time. As long as the Prussian and Austrian armies launched a full-scale offensive, Poland's only option would be total defense. Otherwise, Warsaw would be gone in a matter of days—the Prussian army at Kalisz would only need a week to reach the capital.
Joseph sighed. "Poland cannot stop Russia, Prussia, and Austria combined. Moreover, forcing Poland to fight to the death will only make them feel like they are being used as a tool for France to exhaust its enemies."
The Duke of Broglie asked in confusion, "Your Highness, are we to abandon Poland?"
Joseph shook his head. "No, we let them surrender voluntarily before they are attacked..."
Once he finished explaining his arrangements, ignoring the inexplicable expressions on the faces of his ministers, he turned to Talleyrand. "You must go to the Ottoman Empire immediately and strive to persuade Salem III..."
Talleyrand bowed. "Yes, Your Highness. Russia is currently massing its troops in Iasi; we can use that to our advantage."
Shortly after, Talleyrand and the others departed to carry out their orders, but Joseph kept the Minister of Justice, Baron Breteuil, behind. "I know you are an enlightened gentleman.
"We must make the most thorough preparations at home to deal with the worst-case scenario. Therefore, I need your help in drafting something..."
As Joseph continued to speak, Baron Breteuil's eyes grew wider and wider. Taking advantage of a moment when Joseph paused for breath, he whispered, "Your Highness, do you truly intend to do this?"
Joseph nodded. "This is something that is destined to be done; it is merely a matter of choosing the right timing. Prepare for it in advance."
He wasn't at all worried that Breteuil would leak the news, as he had absolute confidence in his ability to control the situation.
***
Transcaucasia.
North of Tbilisi.
Gudovich watched as columns of Russian soldiers marched past him, his hand tightening around the hilt of his saber.
The last time he had come here, he had to bow and scrape to that man named Zubov, forced to deal with his incompetent command. In the end, Gudovich had won the battles, only for that fellow to claim most of the military glory.
Now, the entire Zubov family had been exiled to the Ural Mountains, and he finally had a battlefield where he could fully demonstrate his capabilities.
Just then, his aide approached with a man dressed in Georgian attire. "General, he says he was sent by Askar."
The "Georgian" stepped forward a few paces, placing a hand over his chest in salute before handing over a letter. "Honorable General, His Majesty the Shah commanded me to deliver this to you. All Shirvan people will cooperate with your army."
Gudovich didn't recognize the Shirvan seal, so he handed the letter to his chief of staff.
Askar's messenger continued, "General, the Shah has gathered two thousand warriors and is preparing to launch an attack on Tabriz. There are only about a thousand Persians there now."
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