A few weeks earlier, London, Britain.
Prince Albert and the other British ministers still didn't know where Patagonia was, but they knew perfectly well that the Austrian Empire had infringed on Britain's interests.
How could they tolerate that? Of course they couldn't!
And so the British Government once again rejected the Austrian Empire's peace proposal. Baron Bruck left the meeting room without changing his expression and went straight aboard the ship home.
Honestly, as a nineteenth-century financial professional, it was impossible not to have high expectations of the City of London. Yet Baron Bruck could hardly hide his disappointment.
The British showed very little talent for financial innovation. They still relied on lending and exploiting information gaps to make a profit. They couldn't make money multiply, much less direct it where it needed to go.
Corruption and graft were everywhere. Baron Bruck could say with certainty that Britain's economic growth would eventually fall behind the expansion of its debt, and the country would end up a feeble shell.
Meanwhile, at Downing Street.
"The Austrians are getting far too big for their boots!"
Prince Albert slammed his hand on the table in anger, startling even himself. After all, for the past twenty-nine years, Prince Albert had been renowned as a refined and elegant gentleman.
But at some point, he had begun unconsciously behaving in ways that were less than gentlemanly. He thought perhaps he wanted to appear angry enough to show his determination to defend Britain's interests.
Britain's new prime minister, Edward Smith-Stanley, however, wore an utterly helpless expression. Prince Albert's choice to neither fight nor make peace was simply becoming too much to bear.
The bankers back home were on the verge of erupting. The date for insurance payouts was drawing closer, and if the British Government still couldn't come