By then, the selling of Quinine to other colonial powers would only become more rampant. Not only would it fail to solve the existing problem, it would hand the Austrian Empire's advantage over to others on a silver platter.
Thus, from the very beginning, Franz had designated Quinine as a national strategic resource, one that had to be placed under strict control.
In the Chenla region, farmers and officials had joined forces to secretly sell Quinine to British merchants. Franz's response was to exterminate them all.
Franz's decision met fierce opposition from the Church. Chenla was nominally a state governed by clerical authority—how could he slaughter innocents so wantonly?
But Franz knew perfectly well that if he did not kill them, or killed too few, it would only encourage such behavior. Who knew how many people were watching at this very moment?
If Franz chose restraint now, then all of Chenla—and even all of Southeast Asia—would soon follow suit.
Though the offending official and the elders of several local villages had been deprived of their freedom, they all believed that the law could not punish everyone involved. After all, an entire county had been implicated.
Yet before long, every Austrian Empire unit stationed in Chenla received an order. Their mission was to exterminate every person within that county's borders, leaving not even chickens or dogs alive.
After that campaign, no further large-scale smuggling of Quinine or rubber ever occurred in the Chenla region.
Not long afterward, that British merchant was attacked by thugs in a tavern. His goods and cash were all looted clean.
His brief dream of riches was shattered just like that. His story went unknown, buried beneath the dust of history.
Do not blame Franz for being ruthless. When it came to a nation's core competitiveness, he