Chapter 829: Quiet in Luxembourg
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
Count Stroganov bowed deeply, his hand pressed to his chest. He then looked up at the Empress and whispered, "Your Majesty, regarding that matter?"
Catherine II knew exactly what he was referring to—Alexandra’s conversion. The ambassador to France had informed her only yesterday that, according to French tradition, a Russian princess of the Eastern Orthodox faith would be required to convert to Catholicism upon marrying into the French royal family.
She nodded without the slightest hesitation. "Yes. Tell the Special Envoy that I have agreed."
A conversion was a monumental event for a princess of the Romanov House, but Catherine II needed this alliance more than ever to secure her throne. In the face of political survival, even the most sacred traditions were negotiable.
...
On the eastern side of the Winter Palace’s Raphael Loggia, a young maid gathered her skirts and hurried to the side of Alexandra, who was practicing the piano. The maid leaned in and whispered into the princess's ear.
The Russian princess shot up from her seat, her movements sharp. Maintaining her dignity, she led the maid out of the room. Only after confirming they were alone did she ask urgently, "An engagement? So soon? Is it the prince of Saxony or Mecklenburg?"
Both those nations had sent proposals to Russia six months ago, though nothing had come of them since.
"Did Grandmother agree?"
"It seems so."
"But I thought she had already refused them?"
"It appears Count Zubov and Count Bezborodko were the ones who pulled the strings."
Alexandra clenched her small fists tight. "Ha! Those two should take their blood money and jump into an inkwell! I’m certain they’ve been bribed. I can practically hear the rustle of gold coins from here."
The maid replied solemnly, "It is said to be for the sake of bolstering the Empire’s strength across the Dnieper River..."
Alexandra’s face flushed with resentment. "They suffered a defeat in Poland, so now they intend to throw me like a piece of bloody offal to the hungry wolves of Germany."
She paced irritably across the grass. "Those parasites were embezzling the soldiers' winter clothing funds last year, and now they want to trade a poor princess for a few dozen rusty cannons just so they don't wet their pants when they face the Polish army!
"Do you know why the gentlemen of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs always munch on pickled cucumbers after their meetings? It’s so the dripping brine can finish corroding what’s left of the royal family’s dignity!"
At ten years old, she was already considered a young lady by the standards of the era. She understood enough of marriage and politics to feel the weight of her frustration and helplessness.
The maid looked panicked. "Good heavens, Princess! Keep your voice down. If the master of ceremonies hears such talk..."
Alexandra bit her lip, looking as though she had reached a desperate resolution. "I’m going to see Grandmother. I must reclaim the reins of my own freedom!"
The maid hurriedly caught her arm. "My lady, doing that will only ensure you spend the rest of your life in a convent..."
"Then let me rot in a convent!"
The maid suddenly broke into a mischievous grin and stepped in front of her. "If you are truly that determined, perhaps I should help you poison the wine of the Special Envoy from Paris."
"No, no, that would get you killed..." Alexandra stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening. "Wait, what did you just say? An envoy from Paris?"
"Yes, Your Highness. A Special Envoy sent by the Queen of France. It is said he will arrive in Saint Petersburg next week."
"But... why?"
The young princess was far from slow. She immediately realized what was happening and glared at the maid, mock-threatening to roll up her sleeves. "Elena! You dared to tease me!
"Wait... what business does the Queen have with me?"
"For your marriage, of course."
"Me? You mean... an engagement to the French Royal Family?"
Elena nodded vigorously. "My aunt told me herself. Her Majesty the Empress has already given her consent."
Her aunt was the wife of Nikolai Rumyantsev.
Alexandra’s mind raced.
In the French royal family, there were only two princes who could possibly match her status.
Charles was only eight, far too young for an engagement. That left only one possibility...
Her face flushed crimson instantly. Her earlier anger evaporated, replaced by a wave of bashful excitement.
It was that Crown Prince—the one who was a master of mathematics, physics, and chemistry!
The Crown Prince who had single-handedly spearheaded France’s many reforms!
The Crown Prince who had trained a formidable army for France and led them across the European continent!
The very same person who had invented the carousel, the Ferris wheel, and the entire Eden Amusement Park... the Son of Divine Favor.
The little princess felt a bit lightheaded.
He was the Prince Charming of every girl in Europe. She had seen him many times when she was in Paris, but she had never dreamed that one day she might actually...
She crossed herself and whispered, "Thank you, Lord, for your grace."
Seeing Alexandra dazed, Elena leaned in close and asked nervously, "You aren't truly angry with me, are you? I only..."
Alexandra suddenly turned and ran toward her room, a bright smile on her face. "I’m going to write a poem to give him as a gift!"
...
Luxembourg.
Masséna finished his routine inspection and sat down beneath a maple tree near the command post, waiting for the day’s reconnaissance report.
He suddenly noticed that the sound of the cicadas in the trees had vanished.
He frowned slightly and let out a sigh.
Since the height of summer, he had been constantly prepared to launch a counter-attack against the Duke of Brunswick, but the General Staff kept making strategic adjustments.
It was autumn now. The Coalition’s vanguard had even appeared eight kilometers north of Luxembourg City, yet the orders he received from the General Staff this morning still told him to delay his offensive.
Lieutenant Colonel Brune approached with a bottle of wine and a chessboard, greeting him with a smile. "Today is clearly over. Come, let’s have a game."
Masséna looked toward the southeast with irritation. "You’ve heard the news, haven't you? The Army of Italy has already begun its assault on Mantua. And here we are, stuck playing chess. Damned chess! I wish I could use real cannons and cavalry as pieces for a match against the Prussians!"
"It’s all for the sake of the overall theater." Brune slid the white pieces toward Masséna. "I’ve heard that the Coalition forces near Antwerp might be moving toward our position.
"If we attack recklessly, we’ll expose our flank to the British."
He smiled and gestured to their surroundings. "You see, by doing nothing here, we are still contributing to the victory."
Just as Masséna reached for a chess piece, a messenger came running and handed him a standardized document from the Chappe signal tower.
"Commander, we’ve just received word. Over forty thousand Coalition reinforcements are expected to arrive at Luxembourg within five days."
"Forty thousand?" Masséna’s face darkened. Where did the enemy find so many troops?
He scanned the intelligence report and handed it to Brune with a scowl. "It’s Thuringia, Bavaria, and the others. They’ve finally sent their armies."
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