Paris, the world capital of art.
A newspaper headlined "The Lone Wolf of the American Continent" suddenly appeared, delivering a shocking piece of news to Parisians at a low price.
The French's archenemy, the English, had suffered a Waterloo-like defeat in that backwater of America against a small American country that Europeans considered only slightly better than natives. Over ten thousand British soldiers had been wiped out.
The newspaper concealed the fact that the Republic of Texas was a regime founded by the Basilicata Wolf Tribe, instead portraying it as a small American nation that refused to submit beneath British tyranny and bravely resisted.
Its president, an elderly man who appeared frail with age, tearfully pleaded for France, the Glory of Civilization, to step forward, uphold justice, and drive out the wicked English.
This was naturally not spontaneous reporting by the French. Giuliano had activated the agents he had left behind in Europe, and the reports were the result of lavish spending.
After publishing the reports, the agents had expected to be hunted down by the royal police, yet nothing happened.
It was as if the Paris government had tacitly allowed the Texans to portray themselves as an overseas nation resisting British invasion.
Some second-rate poets even began loudly denouncing the English in the newspapers—their shamelessness, their slaughter of Americans, their persecution of white settlers. The concentration camps Britain had established in South Africa during the last Boer War were dragged out once more.
Public opinion deteriorated faster than anyone had imagined, and Parisians' enthusiasm for global affairs far exceeded the understanding of the Basilicata agents.
Eventually, even the French government, which had initially intended to tacitly allow the Texans to seek public support, could no longer sit still. Facing the marching crowds, even the French King had to declare