Chapter 557: Breaking the Contract
Chapter 558: Breaking the Contract
"Oh, the British also indicated they would persuade Sweden to respect our interests in the Baltic Sea," the Tsar's secretary said. "At the very least, they'll guarantee Sweden won't attack our Finnish territory again."
Britain provided Sweden with a vast amount of war supplies. Without their support, Sweden, whose national strength had severely declined, could barely wage war. So, their attitude would definitely have a significant impact on Sweden.
"Aha, I understand now!"
Potemkin suddenly burst into laughter. "Those cunning British, they're clearly targeting France."
"France?" Khrapovitsky looked puzzled. "But the British envoy never mentioned France."
Potemkin tapped the wooden table in the carriage with a triumphant air, like a hunter who had discovered an animal's hiding place. "Why would they expend so much effort mediating the Prussian-Austrian war?"
"That... I can't figure that out."
"It's to reduce France's military influence over Austria, thereby dismantling the alliance between our two nations. Britain lacks sufficient influence in the German region, so they can only ask us to persuade Austria.
"Regarding increased trade, that's because Franco-Russian trade has rapidly increased over the past two years, causing them to feel a sense of crisis. An increase in Anglo-Russian trade would naturally squeeze out Franco-Russian trade.
"Their efforts to restrain Sweden are also meant to ensure our Baltic Sea shipping lanes remain unobstructed."
Most Anglo-Russian trade departed from Riga, passed through the Baltic Sea, and reached Britain via the Skagerrak Strait.
Potemkin continued, "And the British worry that France's investment in the Donbas region will make us hesitate, so they're using investments in Crimea to offset that concern.
"In short, everything they do ultimately aims to weaken France.
"This isn't bad at all. Let them fight it out; we'll find many opportunities to profit from the process!"
He looked at Khrapovitsky. "So, let me guess, His Majesty is probably preparing to accept the British proposal?"
"It seems His Majesty has that inclination. Of course, your approval is also needed."
...
At the Royal Hunting Grounds on the outskirts of Petersburg.
Catherine II sat gracefully on horseback, smiling as she watched the princes and nobles shouting and driving game from afar, imagining herself among them, galloping in pursuit.
Beside her, a young man in his twenties, exceedingly handsome with a distinctly French demeanor, casually remarked, "The British are truly generous. French investment in Donbas this year hasn't even reached 300,000 rubles, yet they arrive ready to invest over a million rubles, with an additional 500,000 or more to follow."
The nobles had specifically driven the game near the Tsarina. The young man spotted two wild boars not far away and quickly handed Catherine II a hunting rifle, helping her steady the barrel.
The Tsarina was already sixty-three years old, her body not what it once was, and even holding and aiming a rifle independently was quite strenuous.
She held her breath, aimed at a robust male wild boar, and pulled the trigger.
A roar echoed, and the young man helped her fan away the gunpowder smoke, only to find she hadn't hit it. Startled by the gunshot, the game bolted frantically into the bushes.
"That boar ran like a routed Ottoman soldier," the young man quickly quipped to distract the Tsarina, then resumed his role as a persuader. "With the British joining, I'm sure the Crimean port will soon be bustling..."
He had received a considerable sum from the British Foreign Secretary and naturally had to sing their praises.
Catherine II turned to him, smiling, and asked, "My dear, you keep mentioning the British. Do you know why they've come this time?"
Indeed, this dashing "young man" was her current favorite lover, Platon Zubov.
Every time she saw his charming face, she felt her body and mind relax.
Zubov was taken aback, then hesitated. "It must be... to strengthen Anglo-Russian relations, I suppose?"
The Tsarina smiled. "The disagreements between Russia and Britain far outweigh our cooperation. Our two nations are only connected by trade necessities."
Zubov immediately deployed his killer mace – he flashed a brilliant smile, feigning naive ignorance. "Then why are they here...?"
Catherine II shook her head, pointing at several dark figures in the distance. "The game is here."
The "young man" quickly handed her the hunting rifle.
Catherine II aimed at a wild boar, but her thoughts drifted. 'If it were Grisha, he would surely have seen that the British are here to suppress France.' Grisha was the nickname for Potemkin's first name, Grigory.
The man she cared for most in her heart was still him, though his body had deteriorated, making him entirely unfit for a lover's duties. Yet, he still managed the country for her with his mind and courage.
'When he returns, we can discuss in detail how to maximize our interests between Britain and France,' she thought, and then pulled the trigger with force.
A flash of fire propelled a lead bullet accurately into the wild boar's eye, causing it to instantly topple onto the grass.
...
Austria.
In an exquisite brick-red villa two streets away from Schönbrunn Palace, Norbert Kleistl, the second chairman of the Vienna Chamber of Commerce, stared in surprise at the Duke of Leeds. "Are you saying you want us to order 3 million Florins worth of goods from France all at once?" he confirmed.
3 million Florins was equivalent to 7.5 million Francs, an absolutely staggering deal.
"No, not a direct order," the Briton smiled, shaking his head. "These are just deposits."
Kleistl's eyes widened further. "Deposits? That means the final transaction amount will exceed 10 million Florins?!"
"My bottom line is 13 million, and the more the better," the Duke of Leeds said, as if he were talking about a pile of stones rather than gold coins.
"But why would you help the French earn money?" the Chamber of Commerce chairman asked, somewhat dissatisfied. "French goods have already captured too much of our market. I doubt anyone would be willing to do this.
"Besides, even if we pooled all the members of the Chamber of Commerce, we probably couldn't raise such a large sum."
"You misunderstand, my old friend." The Duke of Leeds maintained his genial smile, toying with his teacup. "Firstly, I always said 300,000 Pound Sterling, which is 3 million Florins. Just that amount.
"Secondly, I will provide this money. You and your friends at the Chamber of Commerce only need to use the money to place orders with French factories. I will also pay you a substantial commission."
"Now I'm even more confused," Kleistl's eyes were filled with doubt. "What happens after the orders are placed? Who pays the final balance?"
"There is no final balance," the Duke of Leeds said, a sinister smile curling his lips. "Once the French goods are produced, they will rot in their warehouses."
Kleistl was shocked. "You mean you want us to break the contract?!"
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