Chapter 935: The Sugar Beet War
Ever since the Holy Roman Empire officially recognized French jurisdiction over the Rhineland, every person of social standing in the region had been scrambling to curry favor with their new masters.
Today, there were fewer than five hundred people in attendance to watch the match, but the exorbitant ticket prices were only a secondary reason. The primary cause was that this cheaply constructed, rushed stadium could only hold five hundred people in total.
The Crown Prince's personal guards alone occupied dozens of those seats.
Indeed, to boost the popularity of the World Football Hercules Cup, Joseph had personally traveled to the Rhineland to watch the qualifying rounds. It also served as an opportunity for him to inspect the local mineral resources.
Today's match featured the Württemberg team against the Palatinate team.
Under the call of France, all member states of the Mediterranean Security Organization and the Rhine Trade Alliance, along with Switzerland and Venice, had sent teams to participate.
The Rhineland region itself was represented by two teams: Palatinate and Lower Rhine.
Joseph leaned back in his chair listlessly, glancing at his pocket watch from time to time.
The game had been going for twenty-five minutes, with more than an hour left to go—provided there was no overtime.
After all, these players had been involved with football for a year at most. Many had only started learning the sport after hearing that the World Cup prize money was a staggering thirty thousand francs.
It would have been a miracle if the play actually looked good.
However, while Joseph, an old fan from the modern era, was suffering through the boredom, the spectators were watching with rapturous enthusiasm.
Suddenly, the referee on the field blew his whistle sharply, stepping in to pull apart two players who had come to blows.
But the official immediately caught an elbow from a Württemberg player.
As the referee doubled over, groaning in pain, the players from both sides began cursing at each other, and a full-blown brawl erupted.
The stands instantly fell into a frenzy. Spectators stood up, waving their arms and cheering at the top of their lungs. Some even threw gold coins onto the field.
"Yes, just like that! Hit him!"
"Harder! Break that Number 8's nose for me!"
"Go for it! Win this fight and I'll reward each of you with twenty florins!"
Joseph rubbed his forehead, his face darkening with exasperation, but he did not intervene. If this was what it took to quickly increase the appeal of football, he would let it be.
By the time a substitute referee entered the field, the Württemberg team had gained a total advantage, chasing the Palatinate players all over the pitch.
Two nobles sitting behind and to the side of Joseph were discussing the scene loudly.
"Those Württembergers are like wild beasts!"
"Of course they are. I heard most of them are serfs. If they lose the match, Duke Karl Eugen will throw them into the quarries to dig stones for the rest of their lives."
Joseph was genuinely shocked when he heard this.
He hadn't expected the dark jokes of his previous life to actually manifest as reality here. Then again, considering the state of human rights in the eighteenth century, it was sadly normal.
Finally, after the referee brandished seven red cards and ten yellow cards, the combatants resumed their game of football.
In truth, according to twenty-first-century rules, he should have issued twenty-eight red cards—the substitutes from both sides had joined the fray as well.
Joseph finally endured until the end of the first half. Just as he was about to catch his breath, he suddenly heard the faint sound of several gunshots coming from the southwest.
Clauzel immediately ordered the Crown Prince's guards to secure the stadium, while simultaneously dispatching men to investigate the situation.
A short while later, the Worms Municipal Commissioner arrived before Joseph with a large group of officials, sweating profusely. He bowed deeply before gesturing for the Commissioner of Police to explain the situation.
The Commissioner of Police, who had been transferred from France, was also visibly nervous but managed to speak clearly.
"Your Highness, please rest assured. There is no riot occurring here."
"The anti-smuggling unit just discovered someone carrying Special Grade Contraband across the border. They exchanged fire with the smugglers..."
Joseph's brow furrowed slightly.
France categorized smuggled goods into several levels. Even firearms and ammunition were only considered First Grade Contraband.
He remembered that Special Grade Contraband included things like "key technical components for high-pressure steam engines" or "alkali-making equipment." According to French law, those smuggling such items were permitted to be shot on sight.
He asked with some curiosity, "What were they smuggling?"
"Sugar beet seeds, Your Highness," the Commissioner of Police replied hastily. "We seized a full metric ton of them."
Sugar beets were currently a strategic crop for France. Not only did they generate tens of millions of francs in annual profit, but they were also used to strike at the British economy and maintain the stability of the franc.
It was no surprise that sugar beet seeds were listed as Special Grade Contraband—these were the high-sugar-content beets exclusive to France.
Joseph knew that a little over a kilogram of seeds was enough to plant a sixth of an acre. One thousand kilograms was no small amount.
His expression turned grim. "Do we know where they were being smuggled to?"
"According to the smugglers' confession, they were headed for Magdeburg."
Magdeburg was a city in southern Prussia.
Joseph recalled the Intelligence Bureau reporting that Prussia had begun large-scale sugar beet cultivation.
However, he had previously assumed Prussia was planting ordinary sugar beets, which had a sugar content over fifty percent lower than the variety bred by Achard, making them barely competitive.
But if they were smuggling French seeds, the situation changed completely.
In history, Prussia was the birthplace of beet sugar production. The soil and climate were very suitable for sugar beets, and the potential yield was enormous.
If this continued, Prussian sugar beets would severely impact the market share of French sugar within a few years.
Joseph's first thought was to apply pressure to Prussia through diplomatic channels.
But he immediately shook his head privately.
Sugar beet processing was a high-profit industry. Prussia would likely fight to the death to keep it going.
Furthermore, they would simply claim they were growing ordinary beets.
Could France really send people to dig up and test every single plant?
He glanced at the football players still waiting on the field, commended the Worms anti-smuggling team through the officials, and then dismissed the local administrators.
The match resumed.
Joseph had no heart for the game now. He went to the lounge to contemplate how to handle the Prussian sugar beet threat.
A week later, while Joseph was inspecting a potash mine on Mount Donnersberg northwest of the Palatinate, Eman suddenly hurried over and whispered, "Your Highness, Mr. Achard has arrived."
Joseph immediately halted his inspection and took a carriage back to his temporary palace.
The Father of Beet Sugar was already waiting at the entrance. Seeing Joseph descend from the carriage, he hurried forward to bow respectfully.
"Your Highness, I heard from the gentlemen at the Intelligence Bureau about the Prussians smuggling beet seeds." He walked beside Joseph toward the drawing room. "This is almost impossible to prevent entirely. You know, we have over a hundred thousand farmers growing these beets."
Joseph nodded. "Can we estimate the scale of the seed smuggling?"
"It's difficult, Your Highness." Achard shook his head, but then quickly added, "However, I have brought you good news this time. I have bred a variety of sugar beet with an even higher sugar content. We can begin large-scale planting in six months at the latest."
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