Chapter 956: The Ulcer of the Iberian Peninsula
"Find a way ourselves?" Desaix asked, his voice tinged with surprise. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
Napoleon picked up the coffee pot from the table and poured a cup for him, his movements slow and deliberate. "Let us consider a hypothetical situation."
"Currently, both the Ottomans and Prussia have declared war on Austria. Now, imagine that Vienna, desperate for Venice's tax revenue and supplies, suddenly launches a sneak attack on our garrison in Udine."
"In such a scenario, how should we respond?"
Desaix answered without a moment's hesitation. "We would give them a brutal lesson with our cannons, of course!"
Napoleon nodded in approval. "And suppose the enemy forces defending Klagenfurt Fortress prove to be brittle, falling like a house of cards. Our counter-attacking units seize the fortress in the heat of the moment."
"At that point, there would be almost no obstacles remaining between our army and Vienna. Furthermore, the main Austrian forces are occupied elsewhere, fighting in Silesia or Wallachia."
"In your opinion, what decision would the General Staff make?"
Desaix’s eyes lit up. "They would order the immediate occupation of Vienna!"
Desaix suddenly realized the flaw in the premise. "Wait, I'm afraid your hypothesis is unlikely to happen. The Austrians would almost certainly never take the initiative to provoke us."
"No, they will."
"Why? Unless they've gone completely mad!"
Napoleon did not elaborate further. Instead, he raised his coffee cup toward his companion. "You are my closest friend. Can I trust you?"
"Of course. I would step in front of a bullet for you without a second thought."
"I am moved by your sincere friendship!" Napoleon said, nodding firmly as if touched by the sentiment. He then continued, "In truth, I have already made preparations for this plan. For instance, I have reached an understanding with the Intelligence Bureau."
"In just over a month, Director Fouché will send men..."
He briefly outlined the process before looking Desaix in the eye. "When that time comes, we will need a trusted general—someone who will lead his troops to storm Klagenfurt Fortress rather than restraining them at the border."
"You are the only one I can truly rely on. Therefore, I hope you will accept this task."
Desaix grew visibly tense. "Moving troops without authorization is an offense that leads straight to a court-martial..."
"No, you would merely be conducting a reasonable counter-attack. Besides, by then you would be the greatest hero responsible for the capture of Vienna. Who would dare criticize such a minor oversight in the face of such glory?"
Desaix licked his dry lips and asked another question. "Why would the Intelligence Bureau take such a risk with us?"
"You always have a knack for finding the heart of the matter," Napoleon remarked, casting an appreciative glance at him. "Have you heard that His Highness the Crown Prince intends to establish a new intelligence agency specifically for foreign affairs?"
"Director Fouché wants to use this incident to demonstrate the Intelligence Bureau's absolute control over international situations. The Bureau will be featured in our reports as a vital force that facilitated the occupation of Vienna."
"In exchange, the military will give its full support to the Intelligence Bureau in the future."
Finally, swayed by Napoleon's persuasion, Desaix nodded. "To ensure France does not miss this opportunity to control Central Europe, I am willing to try."
"Excellent." Napoleon flashed a satisfied smile. "I have already submitted a request to the General Staff to have you transferred back to Oudinot's command to replace Colonel Sérurier."
Had Joseph overheard their conversation, he likely would not have been surprised. In history, Napoleon was a man prone to insubordination. During the Italian campaign, the Directory—struggling with unsustainable military costs—had repeatedly ordered him to cease his offensive. Yet Napoleon, propelled by a string of victories, had forced their hand, compelling them to bleed the nation dry to supply his grand army. Ultimately, the Directory fell due to that very financial collapse.
While Napoleon had achieved dazzling success here as well, Masséna’s victories along the Rhine were no less impressive.
Even Moreau, having once marched to the gates of Vienna and caused a massive stir, was now regarded as Napoleon's equal in the public eye.
For the proud and arrogant Napoleon, this was an intolerable state of affairs.
The campaigns in Italy had already fostered a growing sense of self-will. He was determined to eclipse all other French generals, ensuring that every soul looked up to him alone.
But now that the war had ended, staying in Paris to attend balls and salons every day would do nothing to secure that supreme honor.
As a commander, he craved war.
Only through continuous conflict could his legendary name be forged!
Napoleon had never considered that in another history, he truly had led his armies across the entire European continent, trampled Egypt underfoot, crossed the Syrian deserts, and even dined amidst the flames of distant Moscow.
Yet his journey had ended with the entire world as his enemy, perishing on the lonely island of Saint Helena alongside the ghosts of hundreds of thousands of French soldiers.
Despite the peril of that path, he was prepared to walk it again, proceeding without hesitation.
...
Portugal.
East of the Porto fortress complex.
Marquis Wellesley watched the Spanish soldiers swarming toward the bastions through his telescope. With a relaxed expression, he spoke to the attendant nearby. "Alexander, please bring me a cup of tea. It seems there is little left for us to do today."
"Yes, General."
However, Major General Thomas Graham, the second-in-command of the British Expeditionary Force, looked on with concern. "General, should we provide some cover for the Portuguese flank? Their tactical deployment has glaring holes. If the enemy..."
"No need to worry." Wellesley handed the telescope to his attendant and took the offered teacup. "The Spanish tactics are equally crude."
"Their commander clearly intends to storm the easternmost bastion and use it as a base to expand northward, hoping to avoid our gunboats on the Douro River."
"But the French might notice the gap in the flank," Graham argued. "Their troops have yet to show themselves."
Wellesley pushed another cup of tea toward his deputy. "Relax, Thomas. Intelligence indicates they are still in Vila Real."
"And I haven't exactly been idle."
"What do you mean?"
"Perhaps you noticed that Colonel Hill left camp yesterday morning," Wellesley noted. "He should be nearing the Tâmega River by now."
Graham’s eyes lit up instantly. "Are you planning to encircle Talavera?"
"No, no, that would be far too risky," Wellesley replied with a shake of his head. "We have fewer than seven thousand soldiers. And as for those Portuguese, we cannot expect anything from them until their 'mixed formations' are fully integrated."
"Then we..."
Wellesley took a sip of tea and said, "We harass their supply lines. We rally the Portuguese nobility on the Meseta Plateau and organize them into a resistance."
"Parliament wants to repel the Franco-Spanish alliance at the lowest possible cost, so we cannot expect the process to be easy."
"As you know, the transport infrastructure on the Iberian Peninsula is appalling."
"If we destroy a single logistics wagon here, the enemy will have to prepare three more cartloads of supplies just to make up for the loss."
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