In fact, the number of intercepted merchant ships kept rising. There was nothing complicated about it—they simply wanted to defraud the insurers.
At the time, the compensation for a merchant ship exceeded the cost of the ship and its cargo. Add the effects of the economic crisis and shrinking trade profits, and merchants were desperate to cash out while they could.
(Take the Titanic, for example. It cost 1.5 million pounds to build, and the German Allianz, which insured it, paid out more than seventy million marks.)
Naturally, this brilliant idea wasn't something an ordinary person would come up with. But that didn't mean the Austrian economists and business magnates roaming the City of London couldn't think of it.
Even if they couldn't, Franz could help them come up with it.
If events were allowed to run their course, the compensation would soon reach an unimaginable sum. As for whether the merchants knew what the consequences of their actions would be—
Of course they did. But they knew even better that if they didn't do it, they would be the ones to suffer.
In a society where money and profit reigned supreme, asking merchants who controlled the lion's share of resources to put others before themselves, to talk about sacrifice and dedication, or to speak of country and people, was like discussing karma with an atheist.
The moment Franz made his proposal, the British elite were ready to sell Britain out themselves. That was the beauty of an open conspiracy.
Prince Albert, however, knew none of this. Even if he had, he wouldn't have been able to believe it. All he wanted now was for Britain to weather the crisis and escape the whirlpool of war.
"Victoria, I'm telling the truth. This is the debt we'll have to bear if