Chapter 22: Playing Matchmaker Blindly

Ambrose walked alone through the long corridor, the surrounding scenery failing entirely to pique his interest.

Suddenly, a figure darted out from around the corner of the hallway.

Ambrose focused his eyes, only to hurriedly cover his face.

"Respected lady, one does not strike a man in the face! I do not know how I have offended you, but I offer my apologies." Ambrose possessed a certain level of breeding, after all.

"I didn't come here for your apology," Talia replied righteously.

"Who is it?" Ambrose asked.

Talia stepped aside, allowing Ambrose to see the young boy he had already encountered twice.

"You must be Franz. I am Ambrose. You should call me Uncle."

"Uncle Ambrose, if you truly wish to find a princess to marry, I actually have a suggestion."

Ambrose looked at the child before him, then glanced at Talia standing beside him.

"You must be joking; that is not how a good boy behaves."

"I am serious," Franz said, putting on an extremely solemn expression.

Ambrose pointed at Talia.

"Is she the princess?"

Franz shook his head.

Ambrose let out a long sigh of relief.

Talia's expression turned as sour as if she had bitten into an unripe tomato, and she glared fiercely at Ambrose.

"There is a true princess in Southeast Asia who needs your rescue. Her country is in the midst of internal turmoil and external threats; she needs a true knight to protect her."

"After saving her, she will marry me? And then, using her country as a dowry, I will inherit her nation and subsequently annex it into Austria? Would that not bring glory to my family and expand the borders of the Empire at the same time?"

Franz broke into a cold sweat. This Archduke's thought process was somewhat eccentric, but perhaps that was for the best—it saved him the trouble of brainwashing him.

Beside them, Talia confirmed once more: not a single person in this family had a normal brain.

"Where is this princess?" Ambrose asked impatiently.

"Zhenla," Franz answered.

"My God, how am I supposed to get there?"

"You can apply to be an army observer, and then take a Church ship."

At this time, the Austrian Navy had barely ventured out of the Mediterranean, let alone to far-off Zhenla in Southeast Asia. Furthermore, the Austrian Navy would not deploy warships to escort a mere minor Archduke.

However, the Catholic Church had long since penetrated deep into Zhenla. Not only could they deliver someone safely, but they could also provide first-hand local intelligence.

"Then how do I meet this princess?"

"That will depend on your own abilities."

Ambrose was speechless for a moment and took a deep breath.

"How do you know nothing about this?"

"I am just a passing child."

"Fine! At least tell me her name."

"Anmei."

At this time, Zhenla was a colony of Siam and Vietnam.

As for the King, Ang Chan, his last stand against foreign aggression had been in 1816, eighteen years ago.

Both sides had established countless forts within Zhenla in an attempt to carve up the land, but as the saying goes, two tigers cannot share one mountain.

Siam and Vietnam engaged in constant warfare upon the soil of Zhenla.

The combatants were the enlightened ruler of Siam, Rama III, and his opponent, the legendary Emperor Minh Mạng of Vietnam.

Zhenla is present-day Cambodia, and Siam is present-day Thailand.

However, while Siam and Vietnam were aggressively invading Zhenla, they forgot the importance of the people's will.

Both sides frantically conscripted the people of Zhenla as forced labor, intensifying their plunder of the land.

This led to a state of misery in Zhenla, causing the people, who yearned for peace, to place their hopes in the King they had not seen for over a decade.

Every time the people of Zhenla rose in rebellion, they did so under the banner of saving the royal family.

There were over a dozen rebel armies within Zhenla, but rather than saving the monarchy, they were more interested in protecting their own property or acting as mountain bandits.

King Ang Chan was controlled by the Vietnamese, while his brother, Ang En, was controlled by the Siamese.

The Zhenla government owed allegiance to Ang Chan, but the Vietnamese General Trương Minh Giảng was the actual ruler of the Zhenla government.

However, within the Zhenla government, many high-ranking officials hoped Ang En would become King so they could borrow troops from Siam to expel the Vietnamese.

Of course, there were also those who hoped to bring back Ang Chan to drive the Siamese out of Zhenla.

Meanwhile, the Zhenla rebels hoped to slaughter all officials as well as the Siamese and Vietnamese invaders.

Ang Chan's cowardice could only be described as inconceivable.

The Vietnamese Emperor Minh Mạng had once intended to send Ang Chan back to Zhenla to join forces with him to reverse the unfavorable situation against Siam.

However, Ang Chan actually refused, for a very simple reason: he was afraid of death. He boasted to Emperor Minh Mạng that he could remotely command the armies of Zhenla.

Ang Chan summoned a group of sorcerers to perform rituals within the palace, which ended up setting the palace on fire.

In a fit of rage, Minh Mạng, Nguyễn Phúc Giản, executed all the sorcerers brought by Ang Chan and imprisoned Ang Chan himself on a luxurious pleasure boat.

A few months later, Ang Chan passed away due to illness. His eldest daughter was assassinated by the Vietnamese due to her pro-Siamese inclinations.

And Ang Chan's second daughter, Anmei, would inherit the throne.

The succeeding Queen Anmei did not receive the respect due to a monarch; she was kept in the capital of Zhenla merely as a figurehead.

Just when Minh Mạng felt everything was under control, he sent men to kill Anmei and her four sisters.

But rather than completely crushing the resistance in Zhenla, his actions instead ignited the people's defiance.

In just one month, the fires of rebellion against the Vietnamese spread across the entirety of Zhenla.

The King of Siam took the opportunity to send troops, installing Ang Chan's brother as the King of Zhenla.

In less than six months, the Vietnamese efforts of the previous twenty years vanished into thin air, and the Vietnamese were driven out of all of Zhenla.

Afterward, Zhenla became a Siamese colony until the arrival of the French.

***

One month later, at St. Stephen's Cathedral.

*Clang! Clang! Clang!* The ancient doors of the cathedral echoed with heavy thuds.

Several priests shouted impatiently, "Stop knocking! We heard you!"

Since Archbishop Rocher was a permanent resident of this cathedral, they had seen many dignitaries and nobles here, which had naturally given them a sense of arrogance and a disregard for ordinary people.

Those arriving at the cathedral this early were certainly not dignitaries; they were most likely sinners coming to confess.

They were sick of hearing those sinners' confessions and wished they could just call the police to haul them away.

"We have all come to spread the Gospel of the Lord; why do you treat the children of God with such contempt?"

Archbishop Rocher had appeared at the doorway at some unknown moment, already wearing his vestments embroidered with gold and silver threads.

This Archbishop usually slept off his hangovers until noon; why had he woken up so early today?

At that moment, a priest realized: the Archbishop only wore those vestments for major ceremonies or when meeting members of the royal family.

The priests, who had been incredibly arrogant just a moment ago, were now stunned. They lowered their heads and went to unbolt the cathedral doors.

Standing outside the door was Ambrose. He had changed into a clean uniform, and his hair and beard were neatly trimmed.

In truth, Ambrose was not unattractive. However, because he had been accustomed to poverty, he lacked decent clothing, and combined with his habitual dishevelment, he possessed no presence at all.

His previous manner could only draw ridicule from others.

Now, however, Ambrose was neatly dressed, handsome, and possessed an extraordinary aura. Combined with his royal status, he naturally commanded an instinctive respect.

Archbishop Rocher was also very satisfied with the young man before him. He believed this man would surely spread the Gospel and felt at ease entrusting the Brotherhood of Combat to his hands.

(End of Chapter)