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Chapter 1217: Russia Enters the Fray

Joseph signaled for silence among the generals, then stepped to the head of the conference table and spoke in a ringing voice.

"Please, have faith. France possesses the strength to crush any foe!"

"I give you my word: before February of next year, the front lines will be reinforced with at least 150,000 additional troops, their accompanying weaponry, and over 35,000 mules and horses."

"We will overwhelm all our adversaries with an inexhaustible capacity for mobilization!"

The officers broke into a flurry of shocked whispers.

It was already nearly November. This meant the Crown Prince intended to conscript and deploy a massive army of 150,000 in just over three months!

Basic training for new recruits typically took three months. Even with the General Staff's "accelerated training" protocols, it required nearly two months.

That left barely a month for the actual recruitment process.

Berthier voiced his concern cautiously. "Your Highness, if we draw too many men from the regional garrisons, it will create defensive vulnerabilities within our borders. For instance, the British might attempt a landing along the western coast."

According to his calculations, the Crown Prince would have to strip the domestic forces of 70,000 men and then recruit another 80,000 new soldiers. While completing such a massive conscription in three months was daunting, it seemed like the only viable plan.

"No, you misunderstand," Joseph said, shaking his head. "The domestic garrisons will remain at their current strength. These 150,000 troops will be entirely new recruits."

Berthier frowned. "Your Highness, I fear that is hardly..."

Joseph interrupted him with absolute certainty. "Let the General Staff focus on defensive deployments for the remainder of the year. I will handle the rest."

"In February, we will launch a full-scale counter-offensive across all fronts."

That afternoon, Joseph departed Mantua and began his journey back to Paris.

...

Verona.

Austrian Command Headquarters.

Archduke Charles sat with Blücher’s desperate plea for reinforcements spread out before him. The letter had originally been sent to the Freiburg garrison, but after being passed up the chain of command, it had finally landed on his desk.

"Field Marshal," Weyrother said tentatively, "given the current situation, if we do not send reinforcements, the Prussian corps will likely be annihilated..."

Although the French forces surrounding Blücher numbered only about 55,000 against nearly 70,000 Prussians, no officer in the room doubted the outcome. If a decisive battle occurred, the Prussians were doomed.

The gap in combat effectiveness aside, Blücher’s corps had failed to break through the Gotthard Pass twice in a row; their morale was undoubtedly in the gutter.

Furthermore, the letter mentioned that their food supplies were nearly exhausted.

Archduke Charles looked grim. Losing Blücher’s army would not only significantly weaken the Coalition's numerical advantage but would also deal a staggering blow to morale—perhaps even shaking Berlin's resolve to remain in the war.

After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Order General Picton to march for Switzerland. Duke Castallanza's corps will move toward Stuttgart."

He knew that the 70,000 new recruits under Duke Castallanza were nowhere near as capable as the Hessian and Thuringian troops under Picton’s command.

"Yes, Field Marshal."

Weyrother turned to leave but quickly returned with another document. "Field Marshal, this is a report from the Russian army at Klagenfurt requesting an increase in logistical supplies."

Charles turned his head. "They've reached Klagenfurt already? Their marching speed is respectable."

A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait. Let the Russians reinforce Switzerland."

It would take a few days longer for them to get from Klagenfurt to Zurich than it would for Picton to march south from Württemberg, but Charles was loath to have that Russian commander competing for control in Northern Italy. Franz II held Suvorov in high regard, even granting him the rank of Imperial Field Marshal the previous month.

Besides, fighting in the rugged, unforgiving terrain of Switzerland would surely result in heavy casualties. He felt no sting at the thought of wasting Russian lives.

Archduke Charles immediately signed the order and handed it to a courier.

In the strategic Austrian border town of Klagenfurt.

An Austrian officer cast a disdainful glance at the Russian soldiers nearby—men with weathered skin and worn uniforms—before haughtily handing the transfer order to Suvorov. "Field Marshal, this is for you from Coalition General Staff."

Suvorov eyed him with a languid expression, a thin smile playing on his lips. "I heard Archduke Charles lost quite a few men during his 'offensive' in Venice?"

The Austrian officer’s face flushed deep red. "I... we nearly captured the French Crown Prince."

He was referring to the encounter with the Guard Grenadier Battalion during the "ten-day tour" of Trento. To this day, the Austrian army maintained the narrative that they had repelled an attack by the French Crown Prince himself.

"So, you didn't catch him then," Suvorov remarked dismissively as he broke the seal on the order.

He frowned and handed the document to an aide. "It's in German. Read it for me."

In truth, his German was perfectly fluent, but the Austrian habit of acting as if they were the masters of the Coalition grated on him.

The aide hurried to read it aloud in French. "Respected Field Marshal Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov. Due to recent developments on the battlefield, the General Staff requires you to proceed to Switzerland to reinforce..."

Suvorov’s brow furrowed in anger. "The priority should be concentrating our forces to take Mantua! The surrounded army should simply be abandoned!"

"Duke Castallanza will be heading to Verona, Field Marshal," the Austrian officer countered. "Please follow the Coalition's overall deployment."

"I shall have to write a letter to Archduke Charles," Suvorov muttered darkly to his adjutant. "Order the men to turn west."

...

The Port of Genoa.

Joseph boarded the steam cruiser Mica.

To save time, he would sail from here to Marseille and then take a steam paddleboat north. The entire journey to Paris would take about a week.

Inside the captain’s cabin, he reviewed a manuscript detailing the scandalous "truth" behind Alexander’s role in his father's assassination. He picked up a pen and made a few quick revisions.

The draft had been written by Baron Schérer. It was a gripping, meticulously detailed narrative, written as if the author had been standing in the Gatchina Palace watching the assassination unfold.

The latter half was intensely melodramatic, painting Paul I as a tragic emperor and father, calling upon all of Europe to denounce the "demon of Saint Petersburg."

Per Joseph’s instructions, several serialized follow-ups were planned, beginning with the conspiracy between Alexander and his henchmen.

Regardless of the truth, it was impossible to disprove.

Joseph had already arranged for the Paris Business Journal to take the lead in spreading these "insider revelations" across the continent.

Since Alexander had chosen to enter the fray, he wouldn't be allowed to walk away unscathed.

After finishing the edits, Joseph handed the papers to Eman, instructing him to have them sent back to Paris. Then, recalling another matter, he asked, "Has the letter to Viscount Olivier been sent?"

"Yes, Your Highness. It was dispatched yesterday at noon," Eman replied with a bow. "It is being carried by steam paddleboat to Constantinople. It should reach Kursk in about a month."