Chapter 1368: 1274: Awakening

Capítulo 1368: Chapter 1274: Awakening

On the other side, after analyzing all the clues, the official dispatched by the Archbishop of Cologne finally roughly determined that Archbishop Friedrich had “disappeared” within the borders of Mainz.

But when they proposed to look for people in Mainz, they were flatly refused by Friedrich Karl’s diplomat. The reason given was that the recent religious unrest in Cologne had also affected Mainz, and they feared for their safety.

On the sixth day of Archbishop Friedrich’s detention by the “Vatican Guard,” Osnabrück elected a new archbishop—Opus Stern, a native assistant bishop. Archbishop Muzareli quickly expressed approval of this result on behalf of the Holy See.

Without any political foundation, Opus Stern immediately announced, following the advice of “Count Amago” and Franz Egon, who had helped him get elected, that Osnabrück would secede from the Archbishopric of Cologne, unwilling to accept the dirty guidance of Maximilian any longer.

Count Amago was naturally a man of the Security Bureau. He only spent less than 50,000 francs to bribe over half of the clerics with voting rights.

With the lead of the Archbishopric of Osnabrück, Franz Egon soon announced that Paderborn would also secede from the Archbishopric of Cologne.

For a time, the only area the Archbishop of Cologne could control was a tiny corner of Münster.

After the secession of the two major archbishoprics, protests in Münster became more intense—Archbishop Maximilian must have had improper interests with Friedrich, otherwise how could those two archbishoprics be so resolute?

When a large number of protesters surrounded St. Paul’s Cathedral in Münster, Maximilian finally lost his composure and ordered his Guard Captain to open fire to disperse the crowd.

More than ten people were killed in the military shooting, and another 30 were injured.

The news of the bloody suppression spread, and the protesters did not succumb; instead, their numbers grew larger.

On the other side, Opus Stern and Franz Egon announced their support for the just actions in Münster, and the faithful from both places began to pour into Münster, many of them armed with weapons sponsored by unknown parties.

Thirteen days after Archbishop Friedrich “disappeared,” he finally reappeared in southern Hesse.

He first issued a sternly worded statement condemning the Vatican’s baseless “abduction” of him and then called for the restoration of order in the Osnabrück diocese.

But it was all too late; the riots in Münster were escalating, and even many soldiers joined in the denouncement of Maximilian.

Eventually, he fled to the Liper Count’s Domain under the cover of soldiers still loyal to him.

At this moment, Friedrich Karl announced that the Mainz Archdiocese would begin secularization reforms and that Congress would be formed in two months, after which a new ruler would be elected by the Congress.

The news reached Münster, and the demonstrators, deeply disappointed with the former archbishop, unanimously expressed their intention to learn from Mainz and establish a secular government here as well.

…

During the Stuttgart summit, far away in Eastern Europe, Poland also welcomed new hope.

“Thank Jesus! Thank the Crown Prince.”

King Stanisław August Poniatowski of Poland, speaking, turned his back, pretending to look at the map, but in fact, he didn’t want the French envoy to see his damp eyes.

He initially thought he had to wait a long time, perhaps three to five years, but unexpectedly, after just over seven months, Poland ushered in an opportunity for retaliation.

He suddenly remembered his nephew, Prince Poniatowski, and crossed himself on the chest, murmuring, “Joseph, do you see this? All your sacrifices, patience, even giving your life, all this will be rewarded.

“Poland survives because of you, and your name will be eternally celebrated because of Poland’s victory…”

Marshal Kosciuszko, standing beside, reminded, “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we must seize every moment. The battlefield could change at any time.”

“You are right.” Stanisław August Poniatowski took a deep breath and turned to Sais, “Please join our war readiness meeting.”

“This is precisely what I have been looking forward to.”

At dawn the next day, all of Warsaw was like a hunter long in ambush, shaking off the dead leaves and dirt used for camouflage, cold eyes fixed on the distant beast’s back, quietly taking their first step.

The doors and corridors of the Warsaw City Hall were plastered with the latest notices, requiring all officials who started working after last August to proceed to Zalesna Manor in southern Warsaw within two days for salary registration.

In an unmarked office, Warrenov said dispiritedly, “I knew it, the government couldn’t pay us perpetually. Ha, a clerk with three carpenters under him, it doesn’t make any sense.”

The lean middle-aged man stood up from the ground next to him—he didn’t even have a chair here—waving his hand, “You fought in a war against Russia, you’re a hero. They’ll cut someone like me…”

He had been defeated by the Russian Army in the defense of Bobruisk, which had made him unable to lift his head among his colleagues.

“But what about next month’s bread?” Zlatopol, whose face was scarred, furrowed his brows, “We can’t find other work in Warsaw…”

Warrenov glanced at the crowded office, shaking his head with a sigh, “Living this hopeless life, it’d be better to have died on the battlefield back then.”

Indeed, there were over 4,000 officials in their City Hall, with 120 people just responsible for posting notices in town, over 330 coachmen, more than half of whom hadn’t even touched a carriage since they started working.

The three of them, meanwhile, were subordinates to a clerk, tasked with repairing desks and chairs in the office.

But they were no carpenters.

Obviously, the Warsaw government could no longer support this group of retired veterans; in two days, they would settle last month’s salary, after which they would be cast out of the City Hall.

The next day, the three dawdled all day, finally seeing the vast manor hidden among the trees in the distance.

Before long, Warrenov took out his documents and handed them to the guard at the gate: “Sir, we’re here…”

The latter, seeing the line reading “Crimea Raid” at the bottom of the document, suddenly stood at attention, took off his hat: “You may enter. The homeland thanks you for your service!”

Warrenov was startled, but immediately a sergeant came over, gesturing for them to follow.

The three of them cautiously walked around the manor for quite a while, and after bypassing a hillock, they were suddenly stunned.

Ahead lay an exceedingly wide plaza, with at least five or six thousand people coming and going. Some were registering, some were receiving uniforms from officers, and in the farthest corner were several orderly formations.

Warrenov’s heart started pounding, and his hands unconsciously clenched into fists because he saw that those in the formations were all wearing military uniforms.

The uniforms of the Polish Army!