Chapter 914: I Deeply Regret This
Mrs. Schérer was squeezed tightly among a crowd of grimy, disheveled serfs, her eyes wide as she scanned the lists for a specific name.
No, she was praying she wouldn't find it.
Normally, if a member of a noble family like hers fell in battle, the War Ministry would dispatch an officer to deliver the notification in person.
But the casualties this time were so staggering that the officer corps was stretched thin, leaving her no choice but to come and confirm the news herself.
As she finished scanning the list of nobility, Mrs. Schérer’s shoulders finally slumped in relief.
Her David wasn't on it.
She double-checked every line, then turned her gaze toward her younger son.
The boy shook his head, indicating he hadn't seen his brother’s name either. Mrs. Schérer pulled Lukas into a fierce embrace, happy tears streaming down her face and carving tracks through the dust on her cheeks.
As long as her David was safe, she didn't care whether this wretched war was won or lost. Let the Emperor deal with those headaches.
Upon returning home, Mrs. Schérer instantly ordered the servants to pack. The entire villa descended into a whirlwind of chaos.
The following morning, as Mrs. Schérer was organizing her book chests, Jocelyn entered, trailing two military officers behind him.
One of them, a lieutenant, offered a brief bow and produced his identification. "This is the residence of Baron Schérer, I assume? I am with the War Ministry’s conscription detail. I am looking for Mr. Lukas von Schérer."
Mrs. Schérer hurried forward, returning the greeting with practiced grace. "May I ask what business you have with my son, gentlemen?
"Ah, as you can see, we are in the middle of moving. Please forgive the lack of proper hospitality."
The lieutenant set a document down on a nearby table.
"Mrs. Schérer, by order of His Majesty the Emperor, the War Ministry is conscripting your son into active service. As you know, we are preparing for a decisive battle against the French.
"He has been assigned to the 11th Infantry Regiment of the Royal German Legion—a most elite unit."
Mrs. Schérer froze, stunned. It took several long moments before she stammered in a panic, "Could you... could you perhaps wait a few days? My husband is a close friend of the Count of Colombier..."
"I'm afraid that's impossible," the other officer, a captain, interrupted coldly. "It took a great deal of effort to track you down from Vienna. Mr. Schérer, please sign here."
Half an hour later, Mrs. Schérer stood in a daze, watching her younger son climb into a carriage with the two officers. They vanished quickly down the road.
'At least the brothers can look after one another,' she whispered to herself, trying to find a shred of comfort.
The next day.
Mrs. Schérer decided to return to Vienna. With her son conscripted, there was no point in hiding away anymore. She would go to her husband.
But just as she reached the door, Baron Schérer stumbled inside, his gait unsteady.
She rushed to meet him. "My dear, why have you come back?"
The Baron looked haggard, his eyes sunken into his skull from an obvious lack of sleep.
He pulled his wife into a crushing hug and suddenly burst into a jagged, broken sob. "David... David..."
Mrs. Schérer’s heart seized. She pushed her husband back slightly, her voice sharp with fear. "What happened to David?"
"He was struck by a cannonball at Molveno..."
The world seemed to spin. Mrs. Schérer shook her husband like a madwoman, screaming questions at him.
It took an eternity for the truth to sink in. The casualty list containing their eldest son’s name had been delivered to their home in Vienna.
He had been dead for over twenty days.
There wasn't even enough left of him to bury.
Baron Schérer wiped his tears away, his voice sounding like dry gravel. "Where is Lukas?"
A nearby footman whispered, "My Lord, the young master was conscripted yesterday."
"What did you say?" The Baron’s eyes turned bloodshot as he let out a guttural roar. "No! I have to bring him back!
"Stop crying! Everyone, back to Vienna with me!"
...
Vienna.
Schönbrunn Palace.
Franz II stared intently at Lord Canning, the British interim diplomat, and spoke in a heavy voice:
"In war, there are always victories and defeats. This setback is nothing.
"I have already issued a national mobilization order. Soon, we will have a fresh army. Furthermore, Archduke Charles has returned with fifty thousand soldiers.
"As soon as your troops arrive at Gorz, we can launch a counterattack at any moment!"
Canning merely shook his head with calm indifference.
"Your Majesty, Parliament has decided that until the Navy secures absolute supremacy, we will no longer intervene in any land battles."
Franz II’s face flushed a deep crimson. He gripped the armrests of his chair so hard his knuckles turned white. "In that case, I need war funds. One million pounds sterling. I cannot—I will not—accept defeat!"
"I am deeply sorry, Your Majesty, but until a new Prime Minister takes office, Parliament cannot pass any large-scale aid packages."
This was merely a convenient excuse for Canning.
A major reason for the fall of William Pitt Junior’s government was the massive amount of military aid that had yielded no return, plunging British finances into a crisis.
How would the new government dare to continue throwing money away?
Currently, Britain’s strategy was to funnel every penny into the construction of warships.
Furthermore, Marquis Wellesley had already landed in Portugal, and that campaign would undoubtedly consume a significant portion of the budget.
Baron Thugut, standing nearby, interjected, "Lord Canning, perhaps we could persuade Russia to join the Anti-French Coalition.
"Your country holds immense influence over Russia. The Tsar would surely consider your suggestions seriously."
He glanced at Franz II before continuing, "My country is willing to relinquish some of our interests in Wallachia and can promise to assist Russia against the Ottomans once France is defeated."
Canning gave him a strange, pitying look. "Do you truly not know?"
"Know what?"
"The Tsar has already decided on a marriage alliance with France." Canning exhaled slowly. "The marriage treaty was likely signed last month. They will probably announce the engagement very soon."
In this era, royal marriages required formal treaties, accompanied by a mountain of political exchanges. Only then did the actual wedding process begin.
Franz II felt the strength leave his spine, and he nearly slumped out of his chair.
The Russian army had been his final hope.
He hadn't expected the French to have laid their trap so far in advance...
He suddenly bolted upright, pointing a finger at the Englishman and roaring, completely disregarding his imperial decorum:
"You were the ones who said the French could be easily defeated! You were the ones who advocated for declaring war!
"Now you think you can just walk away and abandon all responsibility?"
Lord Canning merely bowed slightly. "I deeply regret this, Your Majesty. Personally, I shall always remain a steadfast supporter of you and Austria."
Once the Englishman had departed, Franz II immediately summoned all his ministers to discuss the possibility of further conscription to resist the French.
Right then, a thunderous roar erupted from outside Schönbrunn Palace. The noise clearly came from thousands of voices.
Before long, Franz II could hear exactly what they were chanting.
"Armistice! Ceasefire now!"
"Resign, Baron Thugut!"
"End the mobilization!"
"Abolish the war tax!"
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