Holy Roman Empire

The winter wind brushed faces, scattering the clouds, bringing with it the scent of earth that was intoxicating.

In the peaceful village, wisps of cooking smoke rose, tossed about by the wind, as if depicting the hardships of life.

As dusk slowly fell, the militia member, Joseph Han, let out a sigh of relief; they were safe for another day. Lacking education, Joseph Han didn’t know how to articulate his feelings and could only sigh helplessly.

Ever since the outbreak of the Prusso-Russian War, the atmosphere in the border areas had become tense, especially after the raiding by the Cossack cavalry, which heightened the tension to a climax.

Budaschi Village, located in Lubusen, was less than a hundred kilometers from the front lines, naturally making it a key area for vigilance.

To curtail the enemy’s arrogance, the Berlin Government formed militias from the locals and distributed weapons to them.

The Prussia and Russia border was indeed too long, and with the Prussian Army’s main forces tied down elsewhere, the rear areas, despite being on high alert, were unable to fully prevent enemy invasions.

The large cities were relatively safe with military garrisons; the Cossack cavalry would not dare to chew on such tough bones. In contrast, small towns and villages scattered across the land were left in a dire situation, becoming prey to the "robbers."

Joseph Han had visited a village that had been "blessed" by these "robbers," and it was nothing short of hell on earth.

Burning houses, heads hanging at the village entrance, debris littering the ground, and survivors missing limbs... all bore witness to the "robbers’" brutality.

Faced with reality, the honest Joseph Han took up arms and joined the militia to defend the tranquility of his village.

Speaking of defense, in reality, they didn’t possess the strength to fight. The main task of the militia was to signal the presence of the enemy in time, cover the civilians’ retreat into the castle, defend the castle, and wait for the regular army to arrive.

Not every place had a castle, nor did every castle have the capacity to defend itself; only the castles owned by some of the larger nobility were capable of withstanding the "robbers’" looting.

In the last hundred years, the Polish Region had suffered repeatedly from war, causing many local nobles to fall from grace. The new nobility lacked deep pockets, and many, influenced by new ideas, had already abandoned castle construction.

On the plains, without a castle fortress, it was nearly impossible to resist the onslaught of cavalry raids.

For safety’s sake, the local people had already mobilized to repair or rebuild castles under government organization, to withstand the invasion of the "robbers."

In this respect, Europeans had a natural talent. Every war was accompanied by looting, and after thousands of years, the people had developed unique survival skills.

This time was merely a case of the enemy being more vicious, but life had to go on as usual.

In the face of the constant danger of being raided by "robbers," the night became everyone’s favorite time, as the enemy would not act then.

With their anxiety relieved for the moment, the militia men headed home in small groups, and Joseph Han was among them. Perhaps due to exhaustion, there was an unspoken agreement to remain silent.

Back at home, his wife had prepared dinner. The food was very plain, consisting of baked potatoes and vegetables, all grown in their own garden.

For a family of five, there were only six fist-sized baked potatoes—clearly not enough, not even for Joseph Han alone.

There was no helping it, as life was difficult. In ordinary times, they only had two meals a day, in the morning and afternoon, with no need for dinner since no work was done in the evening.

Since joining the militia, Joseph Han had daily training and needed adequate nutrition; his wife and children, who worked on the fortifications, also needed more nutrients, which was why they had resolutely added a dinner meal.

The night was exceptionally dark, without a sliver of moonlight, forcing his always frugal wife to reluctantly light a candle.

Perhaps out of extreme hunger, or maybe because of reluctance to waste, Joseph Han didn’t even bother peeling the potato skin before stuffing it into his mouth.

"Han, I heard that Fick Town, twenty miles away, was looted by the Russians, and all the militia were killed. You must be careful when you go out!"

The anxious voice of his wife made Joseph Han’s heart quiver. He, too, had heard about the situation in Fick Town; it wasn’t just the militia who were killed—all the elderly, women, and children suffered heavy casualties as well.

The enemy slaughtered all who resisted, and the survivors were either injured or disabled. Clearly, the Russians were deliberately creating casualties to increase the burden on the Berlin Government.

Whether because there were too many wounded for the government to manage, or to provoke the will to resist among the populace, a few injured individuals had also been placed in their small village.

Joseph Han: "Don’t worry, I will be careful. You all need to be careful too. If you spot the enemy coming, hide in the cellar. The Russians won’t stay long."

Clearly, Joseph Han had little confidence in the castle currently under construction. This was the Age of Hot Weapons, but the castles being built were stuck in the designs of the previous century.

It wasn’t that people did not want to build them stronger; castles were being constructed everywhere, but there was a shortage of steel, cement, and stone, forcing them to resort to earthen walls.

The Berlin Government had already increased imports, but the costs were prohibitively high, so they could only be used in strategic locations. There were not enough resources for city defenses, let alone for ordinary villages.

Some people had suggested evacuating the villages and concentrating the people in the cities to reduce civilian casualties.

Unfortunately, that was only wishful thinking.

Because of the war, the food production of the Prusso Federation had already decreased significantly, and being able to maintain 80% of the capacity in 1880 was a great victory.

If the border areas were abandoned, those major grain-producing regions, the Federation’s food production capacity would further decline. The annual shortfall of millions of tons of food was not easily compensated for.

"Understood."

Their tired minds and bodies left them with no interest in continuing the conversation. After quickly finishing their dinner, his wife hastily extinguished the candles.

...

In the sunlight, the signboard of "Austria’s Foreign Ministry" was exceptionally bright.

A diplomatic carriage designed for official use stopped at the entrance of the building, and a middle-aged man in a suit stepped down from the carriage, carrying a stack of thick documents, and strode into the building.

The secretary whispered, "Your Excellency, the Minister, Count Kowatchevich, the Prusso Federation Envoy to Vienna, has come to visit."

Setting down his coffee, Weisenberg asked, "Did he have an appointment?"

As Foreign Minister Weisenberg’s schedule was always packed with work, almost every day was fully booked, and except for special circumstances, diplomatic activities generally required prior appointments.

The secretary replied, "No. But Count Kowatchevich looks very upset, emphasizing again and again that he has an urgent matter and must see you right away."

"An urgent matter"—Weisenberg, who had been prepared to refuse, was startled and immediately thought of the Prusso-Russian War. He said slowly, "Let him in, please. Remember to tell him I only have half an hour to spare."

...

After exchanging some pleasantries, Envoy Kowatchevich handed the thick file to Weisenberg and said, "Your Excellency, the Minister, these photos and documents were provided by concerned citizens; they show the atrocities of the Russians."

Taking the file and flipping through it casually, Weisenberg saw the photographs filled with corpses, burning houses, and hanging heads—all very telltales of barbaric crimes.

Even the worldly Weisenberg was shocked. Without continuing to look, he closed the file promptly and turned his gaze to Kowatchevich.

"Your Excellency, the Minister, your country has always been a major force in maintaining world peace and international order. For the love of God, we hope your country can intervene to stop the atrocities of the Russians."

The despicable tactics of the Russians left the Berlin Government exhausted from the ordeal, and with no other choice but to seek the help of the international community.

No matter how cruel the essence of the world, on the European Continent, nations still knew they had to keep a semblance of restraint; the Russians’ way of doing things was simply outdated.

Disregarding Kowatchevich’s flattery, Weisenberg slowly replied, "This matter is very complex, and we must conduct an investigation to confirm the details before we can respond to your country.

However, Envoy, rest assured that as long as the content here is proven to be true, all the righteous people in the world will not ignore such atrocities."

Without a doubt, this was a stalling tactic. The atrocities of the Russians were anything but a secret; Austria had sent a Military Observation Group, and they were well aware of the frontline situation.

While knowing is one thing, without sufficient interests at stake, the Vienna Government would not intervene.

Similar instances weren’t unique to the Russians. The Prussian Army also had its share of massacring villages and towns, and the great Colonial Empires carried out even more ruthless acts overseas.

It’s just that the lid had not been lifted, and everyone tacitly chose to ignore it. The Tsarist Government had gone too far this time; casualties among the Federation’s civilians had already reached several hundred thousand.

In an Age of Hot Weapons, small-scale killings were unavoidable; large-scale massacres, however, broke all norms.

The Russian Army had not resorted to massacre, but it might as well have; apart from those killed, the rest were all wounded, and many of them were permanently disabled.

Envoy Kowatchevich had a bitter look on his face: "Your Excellency, the Minister, these photos were all taken at great risk by concerned citizens; I guarantee that they are all genuine.

Now every day, thousands of civilians are dying under the blades of the Russians..."

Weisenberg gestured with his hand: "Don’t worry, Envoy. The truth cannot be faked, and a lie cannot become the truth.

As long as one belongs to the civilized camp, such events will not be tolerated. I will arrange for an investigation right now, go back and wait for the news!"

After seeing off Kowatchevich, Weisenberg was left with a headache. To intervene or not to intervene, that was a troubling question.