Chapter 915: The Approaching Storm
Franz II immediately frowned as he gazed out the window.
Count Cobentzel, the Austrian Minister of State, hurried to the door of the meeting room. His face was dark as he snapped at his assistant, Fyodor, "What is going on out there? Where are the police?"
The political environment in Vienna was nowhere near as lenient as in Paris. Usually, a protest march wouldn't make it two blocks before being dispersed by the police. As for causing a scene near the palace, that was unthinkable.
Fyodor lowered his head and whispered, "Two larger protests broke out earlier today at Silversmith Street and St. Stephen's Cathedral. All available police were diverted there."
"These people must have gathered near the Graben. I've already sent men to deal with it..."
The Austrian police were still under the jurisdiction of the Minister of State, and Cobentzel could not escape the blame for such a lapse.
He gritted his teeth and hissed at his assistant, "I'm giving you twenty minutes to disperse those fools! If there aren't enough police, have the Palace Guards assist."
"Yes, my Lord Count," Fyodor bowed and retreated.
Before long, sixty or seventy policemen, wielding short clubs, charged into the crowd of protesters in formation. The air was instantly filled with a chorus of screams and curses.
As the first few dozen protesters were beaten bloody and fell to the ground, the crowd began to retreat. The shouting of slogans gradually grew weaker and died away.
In a café on the east side of the Graben, just one street away from Schönbrunn Palace...
Baron Schérer, his hair somewhat disheveled, sat with his hands clasped. He looked imploringly at the plump, middle-aged man sitting across from him and lowered his voice.
"Count Graf, Lukas is only seventeen. He is as fragile as a blade of grass before those Frenchmen. I beg of you, you must help me find a way."
Count Graf took a sip of his coffee and shook his head slightly.
"You know that this conscription order was signed by His Majesty himself. There is absolutely no room for 'maneuvering.'"
Baron Schérer's hand shot out in agitation, grabbing the other man's arm. "No, you cannot just watch him go to his death. He is the only son I have left. For God's sake, I beg you..."
Graf brushed his hand away and picked up a napkin to dab his mouth. "Well, Count Colombier insisted that I help you. Tell you what, I can arrange for the boy to be a logistics officer in Klagenfurt. That's ten kilometers from the battlefield. It's perfectly safe."
Graf was an official in the Conscription Office of the Military Commission and held considerable power.
Schérer was overjoyed, bowing repeatedly. "Thank you so much! I truly don't know what to say. You've saved our family..."
Graf cleared his throat and continued, "However, you must understand that many people have their eyes on this position. I'll need to grease a few wheels upstairs to ensure it isn't snatched away."
Schérer nodded frantically. "Yes, of course. That's only right. Er, how much do you think will be required?"
"Prepare two thousand five hundred florins for now, though three thousand might be safer to guarantee the result."
Schérer froze instantly.
Austria had been at war for years. Prices were high, and earning money was difficult. His entire estate was probably worth only seven or eight hundred florins.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to nod again. "Fine, that won't be a problem. But, could you give me some time to raise the funds?"
"I can wait half a month. You know the French could attack at any moment."
Schérer felt it hard to breathe. Two thousand florins was no small sum; half a month was certainly not enough time.
He suddenly looked up and said with difficulty, "That... David's pension is three thousand florins. If you could help me expedite it, I could give the entire amount to you..."
"That money isn't for me," Graf interrupted, sounding displeased. "As for the pension, that's not under my jurisdiction. Regardless, I can only wait fifteen days. I'm only doing this much out of respect for Count Colombier."
With that, he rose and left without a backward glance.
With nationwide conscription underway, there were plenty of others begging for his help.
Schérer buried his head in his arms and closed his eyes in agony.
He had sent someone to the Military Commission yesterday to inquire; he was told his eldest son's pension would take at least a year to be processed.
It wouldn't arrive in time to save his younger son.
His estate in Trenheim Village was still worth one or two thousand florins, but he didn't know if he could find a buyer in just two weeks.
Just then, a roar of shouting erupted outside the café. "No more war!"
"Let us petition the Emperor!"
"Everyone, resist the conscription order!"
"That's right! An immediate ceasefire with France!"
Schérer couldn't help but stand up and look at the crowds outside carrying banners. A spark of hope flickered in his eyes.
'Yes, as long as the war stops, Lukas won't have to go to the front! I hope His Majesty agrees.'
He grabbed his hat and rushed out of the café, joining the protest line. He raised his arms, shouting alongside the bricklayers and laborers, "Cancel the conscription! Peace with France!"
Meanwhile, in Trenheim Village...
In a sun-drenched field, seven or eight serfs were huddled together, leaning on their hoes and speaking in hushed, worried tones.
"It was old Master Niklas from the neighboring village who said it. It must be true. The Emperor's decree will be announced soon."
A middle-aged man with a notched ear rubbed the dirt from his hands and looked down. "So many people have gone to war this year. The landlords need enough hands for the planting, so the Emperor is going to increase the required labor days for serfs."
The others frowned deeply. "But if we have to give five and a half days of labor a week, when will we have time to tend our own plots?"
"And they're still going to hike the Imperial tax. Are we supposed to live on high-interest loans this year?"
"Meisinger's interest rate is already at twenty percent, and he'll only lend to families with at least two adult men..."
Historically, the Great Revolution had erupted in France, but French taxes were actually not the heaviest in Europe at the time.
In Austria, for example, peasants had to bear both Imperial taxes and manorial taxes, and then pay a tithe to the Church on top of that.
Every tax that existed in France existed here, and Austria had extras like the marriage tax, the migration tax, and the widow tax—all at rates higher than in France. For instance, the tithe in France was seven percent, while in Austria, it ranged from ten to thirteen percent.
And that was for free peasants. For serfs, they had to provide three days of "Robot"—unpaid labor service—to their lords every week.
This three-day limit had been set during the reforms of Joseph II, but after Leopold II took the throne, many lords had pushed the labor requirement back up to four days or more.
It could only be said that France simply had more "revolutionary-minded" people; if life became unbearable, they actually dared to riot.
The reason Austria hadn't seen a massive explosion yet was twofold: first, the Emperor's hand was exceptionally heavy.
Second, Austria had adopted the potato earlier, so the bottom rungs of society didn't quite starve to death.
Third, places like Hungary and Bohemia had their own internal systems and rarely bothered with the affairs of Vienna, keeping the scale of any protest strictly limited.
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