Chapter 1274: Awakening
On the other side, officials dispatched by the Archbishop of Cologne, after analyzing all the clues, finally roughly determined that Archbishop Friedrich must have "disappeared" within Mainz territory.
But when they proposed searching for him in Mainz, Friedrich Karl's diplomat flatly refused. The reason given was that the recent religious riots in Cologne had also affected Mainz, and there was concern that they might encounter danger.
On the sixth day of Archbishop Friedrich's detention by the Papal Guard, Osnabrück elected a new Archbishop—Obstern, a local assistant bishop. Archbishop Muzzarelli quickly endorsed this result in the name of the Holy See.
Obstern, lacking any political foundation, immediately upon taking office, and advised by Count Amorgos—who had helped him get elected—and Franz Egon, announced that Osnabrück would secede from the Cologne Archbishopric, unwilling to continue accepting the corrupt Maximilian's guidance.
Count Amorgos was, naturally, an agent of the Security Bureau. He had spent less than 50,000 francs to bribe more than half of the clergy with voting rights.
With the Osnabrück Archbishopric leading the way, Franz Egon quickly followed by announcing that Paderborn would also secede from the Cologne Archbishopric.
In an instant, the Archbishop of Cologne's control was reduced to nothing more than a small corner of Münster.
After the two major archbishoprics seceded, protests in Münster grew even more intense—Archbishop Maximilian must have had illicit dealings with Friedrich, otherwise, why would those two dioceses have been so resolute?
When a large number of protesters surrounded St. Paul's Cathedral in Münster, Maximilian finally couldn't sit still and ordered his guard captain to open fire and disperse the crowd.
As news of the bloody suppression spread, the protesters, far from yielding, gathered in even greater numbers.
Meanwhile, Obstern and Franz Egon announced their support for Münster's righteous actions, and believers from both regions began to flock into Münster, many of them carrying weapons whose sponsors were unknown.
Thirteen days after Archbishop Friedrich "disappeared," he finally reappeared in southern Hesse.
He first issued a strongly worded statement, condemning the Roman Curia for his groundless "kidnapping," and then appealed to the Osnabrück diocese to restore order.
But it was all too late; the Münster uprising intensified, and even many soldiers joined the ranks of those denouncing Maximilian.
Ultimately, under the cover of soldiers still loyal to him, he fled to Lippe County.
It was at this moment that Friedrich Karl announced that the Mainz Archbishopric would begin Secularization Reform, forming an assembly within two months, which would then elect a new ruler.
When the news reached Münster, the demonstrators, deeply disappointed with their former Archbishop, declared one after another that they wanted to emulate Mainz and establish a secular government there as well.
...
While the Stuttgart Summit was underway, distant Poland in Eastern Europe also welcomed new hope.
"Thank God! Thank you, Crown Prince."
King Stanislaw II of Poland spoke, then turned his back, pretending to examine a map. In truth, he didn't want the French Special Envoy to see his moist eyes.
He had originally expected to wait a long time, perhaps three to five years, but to his surprise, barely seven months had passed when Poland's chance for a counterattack arrived.
He suddenly remembered his nephew, Prince Józef, and raised a hand to make the sign of the cross over his chest. He murmured, 'Józef, do you see? All your efforts, your endurance, even sacrificing your life—all of it will be repaid.
'Poland survived because of you, and your name will be eternally celebrated for Poland's victory...'
Marshal Kościuszko reminded him from the side, "Your Majesty, I apologize for interrupting you, but we must seize every second. The battlefield can change at any moment."
"You're right," Stanislaw II said, taking a deep breath and turning to Father Sais. "Please join us for our war preparations meeting."
"That is precisely what I'm here for."
From the next morning onward, all of Warsaw was like a long-dormant hunter, shaking off the dead leaves and dirt that had served as camouflage. With cold eyes fixed on the distant beast's retreating back, it quietly took its first step.
The gates and corridors of Warsaw City Hall were plastered with the latest notices, instructing all civil servants who had started working after last August to report to Zaliczna Estate, south of Warsaw, within two days for salary registration.
In an unmarked office, Woronowicz remarked listlessly, "I knew it. The government couldn't possibly keep paying us forever. Ha, one clerk supervising three carpenters—that never looked right."
The thin middle-aged man next to him stood up from the floor—he didn't even have a chair here—and waved a hand. "You're a hero who fought in Russia. If there are layoffs, it'll be people like me..."
He had been routed by the Russian army during the defense of Bobruisk back then, a fact that had always made it difficult for him to hold his head high among his colleagues.
"But what about next month's bread?" Zlatopol, his face scarred, frowned deeply. "We can't find any other work in Warsaw..."
Woronowicz scanned the crowded office, shaking his head with a sigh. "A life without any hope like this... I'd rather have died on the battlefield."
Indeed, their City Hall employed over 4,000 civil servants. A hundred and twenty people were solely responsible for posting notices around the city, and there were over 330 coachmen, more than half of whom had never even touched a carriage since they started working.
These three, on the other hand, were subordinates to a clerk, tasked with repairing tables and chairs in the office.
But they weren't carpenters at all.
It was clear that the Warsaw government could no longer afford to support this group of retired veterans. In two days, they would settle last month's salaries and then turn them out of City Hall.
The next day, the three of them dragged their feet for half the day before finally spotting the huge estate, nestled among the trees in the distance.
Before long, Woronowicz took out his identification and handed it to the guard at the gate. "Sir, we are here to..."
The guard, spotting the small print "Crimea Raid" beneath the ID, suddenly snapped to attention, doffed his cap, and said, "Please, come in. The homeland thanks you for your service!"
Woronowicz was startled, but a sergeant immediately walked over, motioning for them to follow.
Woronowicz and the other two walked cautiously through the estate for quite some time. After rounding a small hill, they suddenly froze in astonishment.
Ahead lay an incredibly vast square, where at least five or six thousand people were bustling about. Some were registering, others were receiving uniforms from officers, and in the far distance, several neat military formations stood.
Woronowicz's heart began to pound, and his hands unconsciously clenched into fists, because he saw that the people in those ranks were all wearing military uniforms.
The uniforms of the Polish Army!
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