The Fox of France

Upon hearing this question, even Metternich was almost jumping in anger. Everyone knew what kind of newspaper "The Sun" was. When did they truly care about international affairs? That was the realm of "The Scientific Truth Gazette" and "Businessman Gazette." When did it become "The Sun's" concern? Why couldn't they focus on those Italian and Eastern European girls in the Moulin Rouge?

And how did "The Sun" get hold of such sensational news? Ridiculous! Throughout Europe, everyone knew that "The Sun's" reports were mostly unfounded, either pure fabrication or baseless rumors. They were a sham under the guise of a news outlet!

Metternich was itching to point at the reporter's nose and shout, "You're peddling lies! You're a fake news outlet!" But he wasn't a sovereign, lacking the power to unleash such accusations without repercussions. Now, it seemed the fake news outlet had a powerful backer.

"This rumor lacks any factual basis," Metternich immediately responded, "In the process of investigating this case, the Austrian and French governments maintained excellent communication. It's this close cooperation that led to the early resolution of this nefarious case. In fact, your country's Ministry of Public Security previously sent a telegram expressing gratitude and seeking to further enhance cooperation in the security domain. It's evident your government highly values our efforts in this matter."

However, this didn't seem to sway The Sun's journalist. He seemed eager to spread more rumors. Metternich couldn't afford to grant this fake news peddler another chance to speak. His eyes scanned the room and settled on another reporter's raised hand. Extending his hand to that person, he asked, "Sir, do you have a question?"

This was a journalist from the "Danube Herald," an Austrian-capital newspaper with limited circulation in France but survived tenaciously thanks to support from Austria. At this moment, its value became evident.

"Your Excellency, I wish to understand what actions Austria and France will take to enhance mutual strategic trust?" The journalist promptly posed a question prepared well in advance.

It was an excellent question, broad enough to allow Metternich to ramble, make vague promises, and speak ambiguously. This tactic could consume a lot of time, conveniently ending the press conference afterward, citing time constraints.

Metternich seized the opportunity, launching into a lengthy discourse, talking in circles, eyeing the clock. Soon, he concluded, citing time constraints, and adjourned the conference.

After the press conference, Metternich had nothing else immediate to attend to. He tried to gauge the upper echelons of French society's attitudes. They all spoke of the Franco-Austrian friendship. Considering France's ongoing investments in Austria, Metternich assessed that the risk of war wasn't substantial.

However, apart from warfare, the French likely had various other methods at their disposal. Without authorization from his homeland, Metternich could only wait.

Soon, a response arrived from his country. However, it merely requested Metternich to ascertain French intentions, lacking the authority to negotiate with the French. Emperor Franz II still harbored hope that this was merely a misunderstanding, aiming to preserve his crown.

Rumors circulated that the Emperor personally asked his generals about the chances of winning a war against France. Even the bravest, like Archduke Karl, admitted that such a war would pose unprecedented challenges.

Although Archduke Karl didn't explicitly state certain defeat, his pessimism regarding the prospects of war was apparent.

Given the directive from above, Metternich had to continue his previous work.

Interestingly, French actions didn't commence from their government but from the newspapers.

The famous purveyor of fake news, "The Sun," initiated the attack against Austria. They specialized in concocting various scandals, and this time was no different. The Sun first reported that the Austrian Emperor had a penchant for young men. Subsequently, they spun tales of Francis II being homosexual and engaging in orgies with a large group of men.

Metternich promptly protested to the French Foreign Ministry, stating this insult to the Austrian head of state was intolerable. However, Talleyrand responded, citing France's freedom of the press, washing their hands off the matter.

Metternich countered, reminding Talleyrand that France didn't hold the same stance when Austrian papers insulted the First Consul Bonaparte. He protested, "The application of such double standards is deeply distressing to friendly nations."

Talleyrand opposed the notion of double standards. He argued that when Austrian papers insulted the First Consul, they didn't merely report events but launched personal attacks. The Sun, however, merely relayed information received through certain channels. There was a clear distinction between reporting facts and personal attacks.

He further pointed out that if Emperor Francis II deemed these reports false, he was free to issue a denial. Most people were capable of discerning the truth.

This was a blatant fallacy. Setting aside the difficulty of countering falsehoods, even engaging in a debate with The Sun would diminish Francis II's status as Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. Entangling with a tabloid would result in his loss. If he did engage in a debate, The Sun's shareholders might chuckle themselves awake. They'd gladly fund a "Golden Laurel Order" weighing a ton to present to Francis II.

"My friend," Metternich realized that continuing the verbal jousting wouldn't lead anywhere. They were all vampires of centuries; what Dracula tales could one tell? So, he decided to be straightforward, hoping to elicit some genuine information.

"My friend, I understand that your First Consul probably desires further progress," Metternich said. "I also know your First Consul has a keen interest in the title 'Emperor of the Romans.' These recent events probably stem from this desire, right?"

Since Metternich had made things clear, Talleyrand responded candidly, "Your speculation has some truth to it. However, the First Consul has no intention of altering France's republican form of government. But he's averse to seeing the 'Emperor of the Romans' title on anyone else's head. In fact, neither the First Consul nor others wish to overly antagonize Austria for this."

"But the 'Emperor of the Romans' title holds significant importance for Austria, practically speaking," Metternich noted.

"We are aware of this, but my friend, where does an Emperor's authority truly stem from? The crown itself doesn't hold power; otherwise, the Western Roman Empire wouldn't have fallen. What Emperor Franz truly needs is power, not just a title. A title without power is meaningless, but power without a title eventually gains one."

After further conversation, Metternich bid farewell. Back at the embassy, he promptly dispatched a detailed letter via carrier pigeon, explaining the insights gained from his interactions with the French and offering his suggestions to His Imperial Majesty.

The Sun's smears, or rather, yellow journalism against Emperor Francis II, persisted. However, everyone knew what The Sun was. Nobody believed these stories, not even the French themselves, though many were eager consumers of such content.

But several months later, a piece of news startled everyone: a report was filed to the Pope accusing Emperor Francis II of violating Catholic moral codes as a homosexual. Even more astonishing was the fact that the Papacy actually sent investigators to probe into the matter.

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