Chapter 858: Prey
Finally, this military intervention in central Italy would serve as the grand debut of the Security Organization.
On one hand, it would allow the armies of the member states to become familiar with each other and improve their coordination.
On the other hand, a decisive victory would significantly bolster the organization's prestige and internal cohesion.
Just then, the clear sound of barking dogs echoed from up ahead.
Joseph looked up to see over a hundred servants, assisted by hounds, driving seven or eight deer toward their position.
He pointed at the approaching herd and smiled at the representatives gathered beside him.
"Look there—our prey has arrived. Everyone, let us begin."
Two days later.
During a magnificent court ball at the Palace of Versailles, King Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette publicly announced the successful conclusion of the Iberian-Apennine Summit.
From time to time, the two women glanced toward Joseph, who was surrounded by a crowd, and hid their maternal smiles behind their folding fans.
As a musical piece concluded, Louis XVI walked over and extended his right hand to Queen Marie.
She placed her hand in his palm, gave Elizabeth a graceful nod, and followed her husband to the center of the Hall of Mirrors to lead the next dance.
Elizabeth watched the affectionate couple and sighed with a touch of loneliness.
Just as the orchestra prepared to begin the next tune, a tall man in his thirties stepped forward. He possessed a thick golden beard, wore a scarlet double-breasted coat, and bowed deeply to her.
"Your elegance and beauty make this evening shine all the brighter, Your Highness. I spotted you instantly in this crowd. Princess Elizabeth, would I have the honor of a dance to celebrate this momentous occasion?"
Elizabeth quickly searched her mind for the man's identity.
Since few people were of high enough rank to address her directly, she soon recognized him and dropped into a polite curtsy. "I would be delighted, Prince Antonio Pascual."
Indeed, this tall gentleman was the younger brother of Carlos IV, the Spanish Prince Antonio Pascual.
Carlos IV, worried that his own heir was too young for such affairs, had brought his brother along as an additional royal representative.
Pascual led Elizabeth to the edge of the dance floor just as the music swelled.
The steps of these two middle-aged, unmarried royals were surprisingly well-coordinated. When the dance ended, Pascual continued to chat and laugh with Elizabeth as if they were old acquaintances.
Following the summit, the Spanish Prince had realized that France would be Spain's primary support in the future.
If he could establish a closer bond with the French Royal Family, his own status within Spain would undoubtedly rise.
Consequently, his attention had fallen upon this French princess who had remained unwed for so long.
He secretly resolved that if Elizabeth gave him so much as a nod of approval, he would marry her and bring her back to Madrid even without a single coin of dowry.
On the other side of the ballroom, Princess Thérèse, who was younger, more beautiful, and also unbetrothed, was the center of even greater attention.
From the moment the ball began, she had been bombarded with invitations from princes of various nations, dancing almost without pause.
That night, the streets of Paris were also alive with celebration. The glow of gas streetlights illuminated the thoroughfares, shining upon people singing and dancing, as well as the vendors hawking snacks and wine along the roadsides.
In truth, most commoners did not understand the intricate geopolitical significance of the summit, but they felt a celebration was in order. At the very least, triumphant reports from the front lines continued to pour in, did they not?
The following day.
After a night of revelry, the foreign representatives began their journeys home.
As their carriages passed through the prosperous and fashionable districts of Paris, many felt a pang of regret at leaving so soon, yet they had to return immediately.
The outcomes of this summit were far too important; they would shape the very future of their nations. They had to report back to their respective kings or parliaments at once to figure out how to ride this new wave of opportunity.
***
A day before the opening of the Iberian-Apennine Summit, the Duke of Brunswick finally returned to Potsdam.
At Sanssouci Palace.
There was no welcoming ceremony. To be precise, aside from a few nobles with whom he shared a personal friendship, no one even knew he had returned.
On the way to the palace gates, the Duke of Brunswick frowned at the middle-aged man walking beside him. "You are saying His Majesty drinks over a liter of beer with every meal?"
"I am afraid so," the middle-aged noble replied. "Ever since the French captured Koblenz, His Majesty has been drinking more and more..."
William II had always been fond of alcohol, and as the war turned against him, he began using heavy drinking as an outlet for his frustrations.
Twenty minutes later, the Duke of Brunswick finally saw William II in the royal bedroom.
The King had put on considerable weight since the Duke had last seen him in Potsdam. He had heavy dark circles under his eyes and reeked of alcohol, appearing utterly listless, clearly having just woken from a drunken stupor.
William II gestured for his mistress, Wilhelmine, to bring the old Marshal a chair, then hung his head. "I have read the reports from the front. There is no need to recount them.
"Instead, tell me plainly—when do you plan to launch a counter-offensive? Oh, and I suppose I will have to leave the recruitment of troops to you as well. Those other fellows are completely unreliable...
"Do not worry about the military funds. I will speak with the British. You only need to..."
The Duke of Brunswick stood up abruptly, ignoring protocol as he spoke in a low, heavy voice. "Your Majesty, we cannot continue this fight!"
"What did you say?" William II sat up straighter, staring at him intensely.
"Your Majesty, this war no longer has any meaning," Brunswick said, taking a deep breath. "The British Army has lost the bulk of its forces, and the remaining few thousand have retreated to Hanover.
"The Austrians have been completely driven out of the Southern Netherlands, and they are equally routed in Italy. Tens of thousands of their soldiers are currently besieged in Mantua...
"Meanwhile, the French effectively control the entire Rhineland. Only the Cologne crossing in the northern Rhine remains outside their grasp, but the garrison there cannot hold much longer...
"As for our own country... we have no more troops left to sustain a campaign..."
"No, no, I still have an army!" William II shouted. "I still have thirty thousand Guards... and over ten thousand troops stationed in East Prussia. I will give them all to you! We absolutely cannot lose!"
The Duke of Brunswick shook his head inwardly.
He knew all too well that the so-called "Guards" were merely local units recently pulled from various regions; they possessed almost no combat effectiveness.
As for East Prussia, it was far from the heartland, and those troops could not be moved without leaving the border wide open.
He offered a few more words of persuasion, but seeing that William II was still not fully sober, he had no choice but to withdraw for the time being.
Behind him, Wilhelmine hurried to catch up, walking alongside him. "Marshal, is the war truly beyond salvation?" she whispered.
"It is, Madame. Now is likely our final opportunity to negotiate peace with the French."
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