Holy Roman Empire

Chapter 549: The End of an Era

The landing battle continued until evening, with nightfall placing a temporary pause on the conflict. By this time, the Russian forces had successfully landed and established a camp.

News of the victory had already been relayed to the Allied Command in Constantinople with the return of the airship fleet. A celebratory banquet had begun, but the commander-in-chief, Aleister, did not participate in the festivities.

According to the reports from the airship units, the Russian forces had paid a heavy price during the landing. One of their troop ships had even been struck by enemy artillery and nearly sank in the harbor.

Despite being heavily outgunned and bombarded from the sky, the defenders had mounted an effective counterattack, proving that they were not totally incompetent.

If the defenders were smart, they would retreat to a better defensive line. After all, naval artillery had limited range—if they fell back just a little farther, the shells wouldn’t reach them.

In close-quarters land battles, the effectiveness of airship bombardments would also diminish. Once both sides were engaged in melee, no one would dare drop bombs, as the risk of friendly fire was too high of a responsibility for anyone to bear.

Aleister was aware of this but refrained from pointing it out to avoid dampening the mood. After all, it was the Russians dying, and if their generals weren’t concerned about casualties, why should he worry?

He silently reported his analysis to the Austrian government and instructed the navy and airship units to continue attacking Ottoman coastal cities, leaving the Russian forces to handle the entire Ağva campaign.

By midnight, lights were ablaze in the Ankara Palace. The news of the Allied landing in Ağva had reached the Ottoman government, and the Sultan’s administration was sleepless.

Frankly speaking, from a strategic perspective, this could be advantageous for the Ottoman Empire. According to Austria’s plan, if they executed a scorched-earth strategy within a 30-kilometer coastal zone and forced civilians inland, the resulting refugee crisis could cause the collapse of the Ottoman government.

However, this didn’t bring much comfort to the Ottoman leadership. Both Russia and Austria were major powers, and as long as their governments were willing to increase their troop deployments, they could easily open multiple fronts.

Sultan Abdulaziz I said, “The enemy has landed in Ağva. It seems our assessment was correct—the Russians can’t tolerate the Black Sea Strait being closed for long.

What we need to do now is to entangle the enemy down in Ağva and drag the conflict until the Russians are forced to withdraw from the war. Therefore, under no circumstances can we lose control of the Black Sea Strait.

Before that, we must first address the threat posed by the enemy’s airships. What plans does the military have?”

War Minister Ahmet said, “Your Majesty, based on the analysis of information from the front lines, neither rifles nor cannons pose a threat to the airships. Therefore, the only way to counter airships is with airships of our own.

The War Ministry suggests we quickly purchase a fleet of airships from abroad to combat the enemy’s airship units. Until then, we can only use rifles to harass the enemy.”

Ahmet was fully aware of the Ottoman Empire’s industrial capabilities, wisely opting to import airships rather than attempt domestic production.

It’s not that the Ottoman Empire couldn’t produce airships, but the quality of domestically made airships couldn’t be guaranteed. If the airships had poor performance and couldn’t even take off, what then?

Such embarrassing incidents were not uncommon in the Ottoman Empire. For example, with their reverse-engineered breech-loading rifles, the Ottomans fared even worse than the Russians, adding issues like frequent jamming and barrel explosions to the already heavy and clumsy designs.

The saying “better to buy than to build” had long been accepted by the military. Ahmet had no confidence in domestic manufacturing.

People didn’t know much about airships, and to many, these flying machines were high-tech weapons, far beyond what the Ottoman Empire could produce. So it was better to buy them!

In a sense, this decision was absolutely correct. Given the level of corruption among Ottoman officials, if they were responsible for building airships, it would be fortunate if they simply failed to fly. The real danger was if they took off, only to crash back down, resulting in fatalities.

...

In London, the British government also discussed the matter of airships. Regardless of their actual usefulness, Great Britain had to have what others had—that was a matter of principle.

First Lord of the Admiralty, Robert, scoffed, “There’s all this hype about how powerful airships are, and some media outlets are irresponsibly claiming that the era of the sky has arrived.

That’s absolute nonsense. Not only is the performance of airships unstable but even if they manage to fly, does that mean we’re powerless against them?

How hard would it be to design a cannon specifically for anti-air attacks? By then, these expensive airships will be nothing but sitting ducks in the sky, with no way to hide.”

What a joke! The era of naval supremacy had only just begun, and the Royal Navy hadn’t even enjoyed its full glory yet. How could the “age of air superiority” possibly be dawning?

Perhaps the term “sitting ducks” was an exaggeration, but airships certainly weren’t invincible. And they were very expensive, costing far more than army equipment and nearly as much as naval warships.

War Secretary Fox chimed in, “That’s right, airships aren’t as powerful as the rumors suggest, but they do have some military value.

Especially in land warfare, the threat from above can greatly affect troop morale. The War Department proposes the establishment of an Army Airship Corps to defend Britain’s skies.”

First Lord of the Admiralty Robert immediately retorted, “Leave the protection of Britain’s security to us in the navy. As long as the Royal Navy is around, no enemy will ever get through.

Placing the airship corps under naval command to intimidate overseas enemies would be the most effective use.”

...

The argument between the two sounded a bit awkward. They were downplaying the role of airships at first, but then both wanted to claim the airship corps for themselves—it was clearly contradictory.

Prime Minister Gladstone couldn’t be bothered to point it out, though. It was all part of political maneuvering. The Army and Navy first teamed up to diminish the importance of the airship corps, only to later want to bring it under their control to increase their influence in the battle for military funding.

Gladstone waved his hand dismissively, “Gentlemen, it’s not time for the annual budget discussions yet, so there’s no need to argue so eagerly. If you’re both so interested in an airship force, go ahead and set one up on your own.”

This was allowed—both the Army and Navy managed their own budgets, as long as they could get approval from Parliament. Setting up an Army Airship Fleet or a Naval Airship Fleet was perfectly legal.

The underlying message was clear to everyone: establishing an airship unit wasn’t the problem, but asking for additional government funding was out of the question—at least for now.

Prime Minister Gladstone was no military novice. He knew full well that an airship unit couldn’t be built overnight. At the very least, the development and manufacturing of airships would take time.

Austria’s airship unit had been around for about ten years, but its presence had been minimal and without notable achievements, so it was largely ignored.

Even though the Austrian government hadn’t put much emphasis on it, Austria had been developing airships for years, making considerable progress in their manufacturing. It would take Britain years to catch up.

Gladstone didn’t believe that the leap from civilian to military airships could be made in just a few days, especially since even civilian airships were rare in Britain.

Without airships, how could they build an airship corps? To allocate additional military funding for this now would be throwing money away. Both the Army and Navy had been known to pull stunts like this to secure funding.

The Navy, in particular, had a reputation for such tactics. Along with the French and Austrian navies, they had sparked a naval arms race, scheming together to get more funding—something that had become infamous across Europe.

Since the “elephant in the room” was exposed, for many years now, there has been no arms race between Britain, France, and Austria. Whenever someone promotes the “Two-Power Standard,” the first reaction is, “Here comes the military funding swindler again.”

Once again, it has been proven that as long as John Bull doesn’t stir up trouble, there will be fewer international conflicts. Without increased naval funding from the British Parliament, an arms race simply cannot continue.

France and Austria may have been unwilling to accept the “Two-Power Standard,” but that didn’t mean they were trying to overtake the Royal Navy. The financial gap between these countries was still significant.

Everyone understood the financial equation: France = Austria and Britain > Austria > France. The differences in financial strength were clear.

With no imminent war, Britain didn’t need to rush. In a few months, the armories would likely have finished designing military airships, and then it wouldn’t be too late to discuss forming an airship corps.

If they couldn’t develop their own, they could always buy from Austria or exchange technology. In this day and age, there was no concept of a “technology embargo”—any technology could be purchased for the right price.

Prime Minister Gladstone wasn’t in a hurry at all. What troubled him more was the Irish question. As a colonial power, if Britain granted autonomy to Ireland, what would happen if the overseas colonies followed suit?

This issue had been a point of contention between the Liberal and Conservative parties for many years, and it was still unresolved to date.

It was a matter of positioning. From the start, the British government had defined Ireland as a colony rather than part of the homeland, which triggered a series of problems.

The bourgeoisie was largely to blame for this. For so many years, they had failed to integrate the Irish people, primarily because capitalists wanted cheap labor and refused to treat Ireland as part of the homeland.

Even during the Irish Great Famine from 1845 to 1852, human causes outweighed natural disasters. After the famine broke out, the British government not only failed to provide relief but also allowed capitalists and landlords to drive up local food prices. In just seven years, Ireland’s population plummeted by a quarter, sowing the seeds of division.

Since then, the Irish have frequently pushed for independence or autonomy. National integration is a pipe dream—there’s no way the two sides can come to an agreement.

Prime Minister Gladstone had ambitions. He wanted to completely resolve the Irish problem and remove this hidden danger for Britain.

In his view, this issue was far more important than the war in the Near East. When the British Empire was strong, the Irish issue could be suppressed. But once Britain began to decline, this hidden threat would endanger the country’s security.

The British Isles could only remain unified if everyone recognized each other and stayed united. If there were traitors, even Britain’s homeland wouldn’t be entirely safe.

...

In Paris, the French government no longer had the capacity to worry about airships, nor could it focus on the Near East War.

At the Palace of Versailles, Napoleon III was nearing the end of his life. The government’s high officials were all gathered, waiting for the emperor’s final moments or rather, listening to his last instructions.

As death approached, Napoleon III naturally wanted to make arrangements for the future. Crown Prince Eugène was already 18, around the same age as Franz when he ascended the throne. Napoleon III believed that his son could handle state affairs, so there was no need for a regency.

After setting things in order and dismissing everyone else, only Crown Prince Eugène remained in the room. Napoleon III held his son’s hand, and father and son exchanged a long look.

“Eugène, the Empire is now yours. France is not as stable as it may seem on the surface. Internal unrest has never truly ceased.

Remember, you must always remain vigilant. Ever since the French Revolution, Paris has never known real stability. The people’s new ideas are too active, like a powder keg, just a spark could ignite an explosion.

Right now, France needs to strengthen its foundations. Before fully digesting the Italian territories, we must avoid war with other European countries as much as possible. Even if war does come, it must not be one that we provoke.

The other European nations are highly wary of us. The annexation of Italy is the last line they’ll tolerate. One step further, and we’ll fall into the abyss.

And… be careful… of Bri… Aus…”

Before he could finish his words, Napoleon III breathed his last. Perhaps this was a relief for him. Compared to the ignominious end he faced in the original timeline, Napoleon III’s current legacy was one of unprecedented success.

Economically, during Napoleon III’s reign, France’s industry and commerce developed rapidly, making it the second country among the great powers to complete industrialization. He also helped Paris shed its reputation as one of Europe’s “smelly” cities, leaving only “smelly London” behind.

Politically, Napoleon III broke the chains imposed on France after the Napoleonic Wars, achieving a great revival of the nation. The annexation of Italy also fulfilled the people’s dream of national greatness.

Diplomatically, he established the Anglo-French-Austrian alliance, solidifying France’s position as a major power in the world and breaking its isolation.

Militarily, there wasn’t much to speak of. There were no notable achievements. However, it may have been for the best. Had there been military exploits, the survival of the French Empire would have been even more uncertain.

Crown Prince Eugène, now sobbing uncontrollably, held back his grief and gently placed his father’s hand down. He summoned the others back into the room to discuss the next steps.

The death of the emperor was a major event. Beyond dealing with the funeral arrangements, there were also political ramifications to consider.