Chapter 34: Chapter 33: Losing a Little Weight

Vienna.

Since Talia had been indulging in too many feasts lately and her fat content had increased, Franz decided to supervise her weight loss.

Talia held her hands against the ground for support, while Franz, reading a newspaper, rested his legs across her waist.

"As a teacher, you should lead by example. Being this fat will affect the imperial image."

"You brat, I'm not a PE teacher," Talia replied, clearly reluctant.

"But a pillow that is too soft affects sleep quality," Franz said casually, his attention still on the newspaper.

Due to the massive investment in the Austrian railways, the insufficiency of Austria's pig iron production was directly exposed.

Seeing a business opportunity arise, merchants naturally would not sit idly by. Within a single year, ten new steel mills appeared in Austria.

It was expected that within one or two years, they would surpass Prussia, though a significant gap still remained between them and Britain or France.

However, for Austria's industrialization, this was a good start.

After the death of the old Emperor, the entire Austrian Empire fell into chaos.

To relieve his inner frustration, Franz continued to tease Talia.

"As a royal tutor, you must exercise self-discipline."

"I know that without you telling me," Talia answered indignantly; after all, no girl likes being told she is fat.

"This is helping you strengthen your core. Additionally, push-ups can improve your physique; they provide perfect sculpting for the muscle lines of your shoulders, back, and upper limbs."

Before long, sweat had dampened her face, and her arms were trembling uncontrollably. Knowing she had reached her limit, Franz moved his legs away.

"Take a break. Don't push yourself too hard."

"Why don't you do it then!" Talia, having just completed twenty push-ups, retorted angrily.

"Because I am stronger than you."

"I don't believe it!"

Franz dropped to the ground and performed twenty push-ups using only one hand. Talia was utterly stunned.

In reality, the lighter one's body weight, the easier it is to do push-ups.

Franz's child-like body gave him quite an advantage.

Franz smiled at the jaw-dropped Talia.

"Fat Talia."

The news of Franz II's death soon reached Prussia, and William III was so happy he nearly fainted.

He believed that an Austria led by an idiot could never compare to his Prussia.

The Russian Tsar and the French Cabinet were equally delighted; after all, the recent aggressive rise of the Austrian Empire had left them feeling as if they were sitting on needles.

The passing of Franz II, who had ruled the Austrian Empire for forty years, and the ascension of the intellectually disabled Ferdinand I, would undoubtedly cause a massive shock to everything in the Austrian Empire.

As for how much this shock would affect Austria, no one knew yet; they only knew that the newly appointed Chief Royal Advisor had frantically dismissed all of the late Emperor's advisors.

Prince Metternich, Count Kolowrat, and other members of the Austrian power elite had to personally invite Baron Bruck back to continue presiding over Austria's debt issues.

Regarding Ferdinand I's ascension, some ministers had raised objections, suggesting that Archduke Franz Karl, whose condition was milder, should ascend instead. However, the will had already been recognized by the House of Habsburg.

Royal orders were unalterable, so these men could only accept their fate.

They did not know where this broken ship called Austria was headed.

Franz read Ambrosius's letter and felt there was no need to be anxious about not seeing the princess.

They could treat the trip to Cambodia as a vacation. Of course, Ambrosius might think so, but the priests of the Catholic Church would not agree.

Therefore, Franz proposed establishing a base of operations first, using the excuse of helping the government troops suppress bandits.

Not at Phnom Penh Port, as that was within the Vietnamese sphere of influence, but at Kampot (which would later be known as Sihanoukville).

At this time, Kampot was merely a remote fishing village; the lower the literacy rate, the easier it was to proselytize.

"Once you have established a foothold in Kampot, the Cambodian royalty will contact you."

Cambodia, Phnom Penh Port.

The news that Ambrosius's group had killed fourteen bandits in a single night spread rapidly.

Banditry was rampant in Phnom Penh, and the government troops were completely helpless. The sound of the rifles used by Ambrosius's group was even perceived as thunder.

Consequently, the rumor began to shift toward the idea that the foreign monks practiced sorcery.

Quan Jimpan also learned of this news. While he ordered the suppression of the rumor, he simultaneously began arranging Ambrosius's itinerary.

Quan Jimpan realized that this group was not a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered, but beasts with sharp fangs.

He just didn't understand why such a group would travel thousands of miles to Cambodia to act as military observers.

Quan Jimpan felt they were Westerners wanting to learn advanced technology, yet something felt off.

He didn't want to dwell on it; right now, he only wanted to give these people a preliminary blow.

He wanted to let them see one of the top military forces in the world: the Cambodian Imperial Guard.

Outside Phnom Penh, the Great Training Ground of the Cambodian Imperial Guard.

This was the training ground for the strongest army in Cambodia, the Imperial Guard.

Their duty was to protect the royal family, though ironically, the royal family was currently under Vietnamese control, and King Ang Chan was not even within the Phnom Penh palace.

The Vietnamese had also trimmed the Imperial Guard, stipulating that their numbers could not exceed 3,000 and they could not be equipped with iron armor.

Even so, the Cambodian Imperial Guard maintained their final shred of dignity; this unit had never abandoned its training and was undoubtedly the strongest force in Cambodia at this time.

The weather in Cambodia was humid and hot year-round, yet the Imperial Guard soldiers remained fully armed.

They let out earth-shaking roars, swung their broadswords with whistling force, and thrust their spears with all their might, their spear tips nearly slicing through the air.

The Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Guard, Hong Bu Fu, was very satisfied with the performance of his soldiers, but unfortunately, the state of the nation was bleak, leaving him with no way to serve his country.

Quan Jimpan was also deeply moved. Every time he visited the training ground, he would lament that if His Majesty could return to the country to revitalize the spirit, there would be no need to fear the eastern and western invaders (referring to Vietnam and Siam).

However, none of this seemed to catch the attention of the foreign youth before him.

Quan Jimpan decided to use his trump card. He looked toward the Commander-in-Chief, who understood the intention of the Director of Foreign Affairs, though he felt a bit pained over the cost of the ammunition.

At Hong Bu Fu's command, four rows of soldiers carrying matchlock muskets ran forward.

Fifty yards in front of the soldiers were fifty straw effigies, with watermelons serving as their heads.

"Load the powder!"

The Imperial Guard soldiers began pouring gunpowder into the barrels.

"Ram the powder!"

The soldiers rammed the gunpowder down the barrels.

"Load the lead!"

After more than ten commands, Hong Bu Fu finally gave the order.

"Fire!"

The first row of fifty Cambodian Imperial Guards lit their match cords. However, because the cords varied in length and material, the shots went off at different times, sounding chaotic and disorganized.

As for these marksmen, who were only allowed to fire three shots per year, their accuracy was pitiful; only ten watermelons were smashed.

Watching the watermelon pieces fly everywhere, both Quan Jimpan and Hong Bu Fu could not help but shout "Bravo!"

Seeing their two superiors so happy, the Imperial Guards thought their overdue wages might finally be settled and joined in the cheering.

After a total of four rounds of firing, 200 shots had taken out more than thirty watermelons.

Quan Jimpan looked at Ambrosius, hoping to see surprise, fear, or perhaps admiration in his eyes, but Ambrosius's eyes held only disappointment and disdain.

Nevertheless, Quan Jimpan still asked the question he had been wanting to ask.

"In the face of the mighty troops of our Great Cambodia, is there any rival in the European continent?"

(End of Chapter)