Chapter Seventeen: Within Reason, Yet Beyond Expectation.
“25 to 10, how is this possible!”
Time rewound fifteen minutes.
The stunning dancer Ajani wore a red-and-white off-shoulder dance dress, holding the ballot box at chest height.
Her graceful sway unsettled the delegates preparing to cast their votes, leaving them momentarily unsure where to place their ballots.
Ajani’s every step was a captivating dance, prompting the Bavarian delegates to mutter that this woman must not be allowed into Bavaria, lest their king be embroiled in yet another scandal.
What they didn’t know was that this French beauty was actually the leader of the Polish Restoration Army—the widow of former commander Borgine Agata and mother to a four-year-old daughter.
After the failed Polish uprising of 1830, many Polish soldiers were slaughtered or exiled, including Lady Agata’s husband. Determined to continue his cause, she took up the mantle as leader of the Polish Restoration Army.
Yet under the brutal Russian crackdown, the soldiers were massacred and their estates lay in ruins.
To support thousands of scattered members across Europe and to sustain the restoration movement, Lady Agata organized many widows to work abroad and solicit sponsorships.
Ajani was one of her aliases. Gifted and striking, she quickly attracted extra attention. Invitations poured in like snowflakes, though most men sought only a night’s companionship.
Despising these men, Ajani nonetheless had to navigate their circles.
Today, she came at the invitation of the local archbishop, who shamelessly requested an evening performance. She declined decisively, especially after being offered 2,000 florins to stop performing, then another 1,000 florins to collect votes.
Such easy money—why demean herself? She couldn’t fathom the sisters who sold their bodies, since she earned in a day what those poor women could not in a year.
Her visit to Frankfurt had another aim: to seek allies for their cause. The Polish Commonwealth was no more; restoration required more than just money.
Yet when she overheard a delegate call the Poles filthy, anger and pain surged within her.
She thought of her husband, her daughter in foster care, and friends slaughtered by the Russians.
Tears welled in her eyes, stirring the men’s protective instincts.
Soon, thirty-five delegates had voted; Baden’s representative was carried to the hospital and marked as abstaining—an arrangement orchestrated by Friedrich Anselm. Though he expected at least twenty votes from Prussia, eliminating one unsupportive rival was no harm.
The ballot box was opened publicly. The Archbishop of Frankfurt unfolded the first ballot.
“Oppose!”
Ajani smiled, took the ballot, raised it above her head, and repeated with a smile, “One vote against.”
...
“Three votes against.”
Three consecutive ballots were from Prussia, drawing a cold, sinister smile from Friedrich Anselm as he glanced toward Ankert, who drank alone nearby.
“Once we expel the Austrians, the next target will be you Saxons. Your humiliation today will be repaid tenfold.”
Ankert caught Anselm’s gaze, exchanged a look, then smiled in return.
“Austria.”
---
“Austrians one vote, three against.”
Friedrich Anselm remained unfazed and ordered another drink.
“Austria.”
“Austria.”
“Oppose.”
...
“Three votes support Austria joining the German Customs Union, four oppose.”
Votes fluctuated, irritating Anselm, who recalled Ankert’s smile—he seemed poised to speak.
“Austria.”
...
“Austria.”
...
“Austria.”
...
Support for Austria’s entry reached fifteen votes, opposed only by seven. Anselm’s throat grew dry; he downed his glass in one gulp.
“Austria.”
That was the sixteenth vote. Anselm choked, spewing red wine onto the Brunswick delegate, who was about to protest but, recognizing Anselm, sat back down and wiped the stains himself.
“Damn, someone betrayed us,” Anselm cursed inwardly, glad he had just eliminated one pro-Austrian delegate.
“Austria!”
“Austria seventeen votes, seven opposed.”
Just one more vote would admit Austria into the German Customs Union, and Anselm’s mission would be ruined. His palms sweated profusely.
The Archbishop of Frankfurt picked up a ballot, unfolded it slowly, hesitated, then loudly proclaimed,
“Austria!”
“Austria eighteen votes, seven opposed.”
Anselm glared at the archbishop, demanding an explanation.
The archbishop shrugged; though he supported Prussia and had voted against, he didn’t understand how it turned out this way.
But he knew Prussia was no longer dominant. With Austria’s arrival, he had to think ahead and feigned happiness.
“Austria!”
...
The voting continued, but Anselm slumped in his chair.
Ankert turned to him again, speaking deliberately.
“Con-grat-u-la-tions, you have a worthy opponent.”
He raised his glass to Anselm, drained it at a single draught.
At that moment, the Archbishop of Frankfurt officially declared,
“With 25 votes in favor, 10 against, and 1 abstention, the German Customs Union accepts Austria’s application. We welcome the 37th member to our union! A brighter future dawns for Germany!”
Facing this outcome, Friedrich Anselm knew his political career was over.
He suspected Austria had bribed Prussia’s allies. Since the vote was anonymous, he had no clue who betrayed Prussia.
He still carried 47,000 thalers unspent. Returning to Berlin in failure, King Wilhelm III and Finance Minister Mertz would surely not spare him.
So he devised a plan.
Anselm arranged for Ajani to wait in his room, paying her 5,000 thalers. He no longer cared; he simply wanted to spend all the money.
Besides the 8,000 thalers already spent, he converted the remaining 42,000 thalers into jewels and land deeds, stashing them in a suitcase.
On the way, his throat tightened. Upon entering, he hastily unbuckled his belt.
Suddenly, a dagger swept past him and pressed against his throat.
“Put your pants on. Where’s your money?”
Anselm hurriedly fastened his belt and said,
“Thief! I am Prussia’s envoy; how dare you rob me?”
He searched for an opportunity but despairingly saw another woman enter the room, a pistol holstered at her waist.
Ajani approached with elegant steps, leaving Anselm at a loss.
She snatched the suitcase, slit it open with the dagger, revealing glittering jewels.
“This is the property of the King of Prussia...” Anselm threatened.
Ajani draped a jeweled necklace around her neck and smiled.
“Not anymore.”
“Who are you?”
“The Polish Restoration Army,” Ajani replied, then nodded to the woman behind Anselm.
Before Anselm could respond, the woman grabbed a vase and smashed it onto his head.
Watching Anselm lie unconscious amid shattered porcelain, Ajani sighed.
“Caroline, I told you not to use the vase; it’s hard to clean up.”
“Then what? It’s done now.”
“Carry him inside and stage a hanging. I’m leaving tonight. You notify the others to leave quickly.” She tossed a jeweled ring to Caroline.
...
The Vienna News reported: The Prussian envoy commits suicide in his hotel room.