Chapter 1187: The True Successor of Catherine II
Gudovich was overjoyed at the news.
Tabriz served as the forward base for the Persian offensive against Tbilisi. If something went wrong there, Mirza's army would undoubtedly fall into chaos.
Gudovich was about to settle on a time for the deployment with the Shirvan messenger when he suddenly paused, his brow furrowing. "Do you have agents inside Tabriz?"
The messenger shook his head immediately. "No, General."
"I recall that the elite Shirvan forces were all taken by Mirza. If Askar only has two thousand men, I fear it will be difficult for him to breach Tabriz."
The messenger straightened his back and declared loudly, "Every Shirvan is a warrior!"
"Pointless attacks will yield no benefit," Gudovich interrupted with a wave of his hand. "All logistics and supplies sent from Tabriz to Tbilisi must pass through Shaki."
The messenger nodded.
Shaki was a city in northwestern Shirvan that sat atop the Shirvan Plain, guarding the only passage to Georgia.
"I promise that once the Persians are defeated, Shirvan will be granted permanent autonomy."
"Yes, General. The Shirvans will do everything in their power to assist you!"
The Russian army subsequently launched a measured offensive against Tbilisi. Over two weeks later, Gudovich noticed irregularities appearing in the Persian defensive lines and immediately ordered a full-scale, violent assault.
Meanwhile, the sudden "fire" in Shaki destroyed over three months' worth of grain and ammunition. Persian morale plummeted instantly to the freezing point.
Under waves of attacks from Russian cavalry supported by heavy artillery, the Persian positions north of Tbilisi were completely cleared in just five days.
With his supply lines severed, Mirza ultimately chose to withdraw from the most important city in Transcaucasia.
Gudovich wasted no time leading his troops in pursuit. Twenty days later, they finally encountered the hastily prepared Persian defensive line at Ardabil, northeast of Tabriz.
The vanguard cavalry commander, Tsitsianov, halted his advance and returned to report to Gudovich. "General, the Persians are using the Lesser Caucasus Mountains for defense. They have over thirteen thousand men."
Gudovich frowned. To catch up with Mirza, he had left his infantry far behind. Currently, he only had six thousand cavalry under his command. However, if he waited for the infantry to arrive, the Persians would likely finish fortifying the defenses at Tabriz.
He gestured for an aide to bring a map. During the previous invasion of Persia, he had ordered engineers to conduct detailed surveys of the terrain along the route. He quickly took notice of Aslanduz, not far from Ardabil. There was a long, narrow canyon there.
He tapped the map with his riding crop and turned to his staff officer. "Collect all the bitumen from the nearby villages. Empty the wine barrels and set up an ambush here..."
The Transcaucasia region contained many shallow oil deposits; oil could be found with just a bit of digging. The local villagers had been using this oil for heating and lighting for centuries.
The following day at noon, Tsitsianov commanded over four thousand Cossack cavalry in a charge against the Persians occupying the heights.
However, their advance was quickly slowed by wooden barricades placed everywhere by the Persians. The few cavalrymen who managed to leap over the barriers were met with volleys of musket fire from the slopes.
The Russian forces fell into disarray, ignoring their commander's shouts as they turned and fled in retreat.
Watching the field littered with Russian corpses through his telescope, Mirza realized this was a perfect opportunity for a counterattack. He was personally commanding the rearguard, so he decisively ordered a pursuit.
The Persian cavalry chased the Cossacks in a exhilarating slaughter, completely failing to notice that they had entered the narrow Aslanduz canyon.
Half an hour later, the roll of war drums suddenly echoed from both sides of the canyon. Then, a massive number of Russian soldiers began hurling wooden barrels filled with bitumen and burning torches down from the heights.
Fire soon engulfed the entire canyon. The Persian cavalry was instantly plunged into panic, fleeing wildly in all directions, screaming as they trampled one another.
As the intensity of the fire began to fade, Gudovich himself appeared at the end of the canyon commanding over three thousand cavalry. They charged in to finish off the Persians lucky enough not to have been burned or trampled to death.
In just six hours, thirteen thousand Persian cavalry were annihilated. Mirza's luck was relatively good; he had been a step late entering the canyon. Under the desperate protection of his guards, he managed to escape through the wall of flames.
After that, the Persians collapsed completely. Gudovich pursued them all the way to the walls of Zanjan, where he was finally forced to halt because his logistics could no longer keep up.
This was already the furthest point Zubov had reached during the previous expedition against Persia.
...
Saint Petersburg.
The Winter Palace.
Several plump nobles wearing fawning smiles bowed deeply to the young Tsar. "Your Majesty, you have pardoned Marshal Suvorov, General Orlov, and countless other officers. All of Saint Petersburg sings praises of your mercy."
"In that case, why not allow Count Zubov and General Bennigsen to also bask in the glow of your magnanimity?"
Indeed, after Alexander I took the throne, he had immediately exiled the dozen or so people involved in the recent coup. Meanwhile, the only man who had remained loyal to the old Tsar, Count Arakcheyev, was promoted to Lieutenant General and appointed as the Inspector General of the Imperial Guard Artillery and military advisor to the Tsar.
Alexander knew very well that those ambitious conspirators were of no benefit to his rule. Dismissing them allowed him to maintain an official stance of rejecting the coup. Even though all of Europe knew the old Tsar had been killed at his behest, the official version remained that Pahlen, Zubov, and others had staged a rebellion.
Arakcheyev, however, was a loyal and capable officer who had to be put to good use.
He waved his hand impatiently at the pleading nobles. "Fine. They are permitted to remain in Perm, and each may bring five additional servants. That is the extent of my mercy."
Perm was on the western side of the Urals, offering much better conditions than the originally designated exile sites in Siberia.
The nobles wanted to push further, but they saw the new Minister of War, General Sergey Vyazmitinov, rushing in with excitement. Before even entering the room, he shouted, "Your Majesty! The Gudovich Legion has recaptured Tbilisi and crushed the main Persian force at Ardabil!"
Since Russia had not yet constructed a large number of Chappe signal towers, the transmission of information was slow. In reality, the Russian army had already reached Zanjan by this time.
"Excellent!" Alexander I stood up abruptly, his face filled with irrepressible joy.
With this great victory in Transcaucasia, his position as Tsar was now secure.
He immediately turned to a court official. "Go at once and make preparations. Saint Petersburg shall celebrate this victory for three days!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
After Alexander I finished inquiring about the details of the front lines, he suddenly remembered something. He signaled to an attendant. "Go and tell Count Vorontsov to cancel the meeting scheduled with Lord Hawkesbury for tomorrow."
He knew exactly what the British wanted, but now that he had leverage, he could afford to give them the cold shoulder for a while, letting their anxiety grow.
Chapter 1188: Chips and Asking PricesInside the British Embassy in Russia, Lord Hawkesbury, the British Foreign Secretary, stared gloomily out the window. "These Persians are utterly useless. The Empire provided them with so much aid, and they couldn't even hold out for two months!"Beside him, Charles Whitworth, the Minister to Russia, poured him a glass of wine. "Evidently, Mirza thought he was still facing an incompetent like Zubov.""I’ve also heard news that Erekle II is at death's door. He likely intends to annex Georgia into Russia."Hawkesbury drained the glass in one gulp, his voice thick with resentment. "This completely disrupts my plans. I have to prepare more chips to satiate those greedy Russians."He had originally planned to wait for the conflict in Transcaucasia to stall, using Persian interests to trade for Russia's entry into the European theater. He hadn't expected the Russian forces to advance so smoothly.Whitworth took the empty glass. "So, Poland or the Balkans? Hmm, Poland, I presume."Hawkesbury nodded. "Precisely. Poland. I must get to Vienna as quickly as possible. If the Russians take Poland themselves, it won't be much of a bargaining chip anymore."...Paris.The Palace of Versailles.Grand Duke Konstantin, the Russian Prince, accompanied by the new Foreign Minister, Count Vorontsov, presented their credentials to Joseph."Your Royal Highness, His Majesty Tsar Alexander Pavlovich has asked me to convey his most sincere respects to the House of Bourbon—'The sunshine of Versailles melts the frozen plains of Karelia; every Russian is inseparable from the elegance and civilization of France.'""May God protect the great Savior of Suffering and the Son of Divine Favor.""His Majesty the Emperor hopes that Paris and Saint Petersburg can build upon the foundation of our sacred royal marriage, linking our destinies closely together with unreserved trust and cooperation."Joseph could already hear the subtext behind the new Tsar's long-winded introduction.He responded with a standard diplomatic smile and a nod. "Your Highness, please inform the Tsar that neither my father nor I have ever forgotten our closest partners in Eastern Europe."After the initial pleasantries, Joseph invited the two Russian envoys to sit. Konstantin looked at the Russian Foreign Minister with a blunt, straightforward smile.Count Vorontsov cleared his throat. "Your Royal Highness, we all know that the European continent is likely entering a period of turbulence."He gestured toward the credentials. "Based on the great friendship between our two nations, the Tsar promises that our country will not provide any assistance to any alliance targeting France, nor will we consider participating in wars in Central or Western Europe. Furthermore, we will ensure the stability and continuity of Franco-Russian trade."Joseph hadn't expected the Russians to proactively pick a side, but he didn't show any joy, merely offering a simple nod. Alexander I was an ambitious man and a master opportunist; his "alignment" would certainly not be simple.Sure enough, Count Vorontsov continued, "Your Highness, the Tsar hopes you will assist our country in restoring effective rule over the Island of Malta. As you know, that was a gift to Tsar Paul from the Knights of Malta."Joseph sneered inwardly. Alexander I really had the nerve to use his father's legacy as a diplomatic shield.However, he only said calmly, "I am quite pleased to see that happen."If the Russians wanted to expand their influence into the Mediterranean, they were welcome to try. Even if France didn't interfere, the Ottomans and the Italian states—including Naples—would never stand idly by.When the time came, it would be interesting to see if Russia dared to risk sailing its Black Sea Fleet into the Mediterranean—the Ottoman navy would be more than happy to fill the power vacuum left behind in the Black Sea.Vorontsov smiled. "We greatly appreciate your understanding.""Furthermore, the Tsar has noted that your country has collaborated with the Ottomans in recent years—for instance, assisting them in suppressing the Mamluks.""Our country, however, shares a deep-seated enmity with the Ottomans. If you could sever your ties with Constantinople, it would further bolster our mutual friendship and trust."Joseph continued to nod.The Russian diplomat continued, "On that basis, at an appropriate time in the future, our marine corps plans to land in the Levant. This may require you to provide suitable logistical support. Naturally, our country will pay all necessary fees.""You see, the Tsar marches south of the Danube River, and you secure victory in your wars against Prussia and Austria. It’s quite fair, is it not?"The Levant was in the Eastern Mediterranean; a landing there could strike directly at the Ottoman Empire's flank. If Russia wanted to cause trouble there, they needed France's tacit approval—the Mediterranean was now essentially France's backyard pond.The situation was clear. Alexander I wasn't just "picking a side"; he was sending people to set a price.If France wanted Russia to stay out of the Anti-French Coalition, it had to accept the Lion's Wide Open Mouth.Joseph maintained an expression of earnest listening, nodding frequently. "You are quite right. I will certainly give the Tsar's proposals serious consideration."True, Russia's asking price was high, but it wouldn't be easy to collect.The Russian fleet couldn't pass through the Bosporus—the Ottomans would have to be fools to allow that. That left only the route from the Baltic, across the Atlantic, and through the Strait of Gibraltar to reach the Mediterranean.Such a massive long-distance troop deployment would require extensive preparation and a journey around all of Europe. By the time they reached the Mediterranean, at least a year would have passed.If the European theater was still in a stalemate then, letting Russia stir up trouble with the Ottomans wouldn't hurt. The Ottoman Empire was so vast that it would take Russia decades to swallow it.Two days later, Joseph held a grand farewell banquet for the Russian envoys to celebrate the "brilliant" diplomatic achievements reached by both sides.Alexandra, being a Russian princess, did not attend. She utterly loathed Alexander I and, by extension, had no desire to dine with his representatives.After Joseph saw off Grand Duke Konstantin and Vorontsov, he returned to his private chambers only to find his younger brother, Charles, whispering with Camelia.Seeing his brother return, Charles nervously turned and bowed. He shot Camelia several frantic looks before hurrying away with his head down.Joseph watched his retreating figure, confused. "What's wrong with him?"The maid smiled and shook her head. "I promised His Highness I would keep it a secret."Joseph gave her a pained look with his blue eyes."Alright, alright," Camelia surrendered immediately. "Prince Charles came to borrow money from me. He originally wanted to ask the Crown Princess, but as you know, she hasn't been in the best state lately.""Borrow money? How much does he need?""Three hundred thousand francs." Camelia pointed toward her collar. "He wants to change this to gold."
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