"Tell me. How many men did we lose?"
Franz sighed. Archbishop Rauscher would hardly have come to him in person to plead for Bismarck; the Church had most likely suffered grievous losses this time.
"Your Majesty, the Combat Brotherhood lost six hundred men. Including noncombatants, our total losses are approximately one thousand.
Prussia's losses are around 350 men.
In addition, there were 450 mercenaries, as well as locals who cooperated with us."
Nearly 1,800 people lost in a single incident. Though they were merely listed as missing for now, it took at least thirty days for news to travel from Madagascar to Vienna, while deploying troops from the Austrian Empire to Madagascar required no less than seventy days.
A round trip would take over three months. In that time, enough could happen to change everything.
Previously, the Austrian Empire's greatest colonial loss had been in Ivory Coast, where over 550 men had died.
Franz had never imagined that one day he, too, would become a notch on the natives' tally. But if anyone was to blame, it was these charlatans—too many easy victories had swelled their confidence beyond measure.
"Don't count the locals. Do you really have no idea who set you up?"
Archbishop Rauscher's old face flushed red at Franz's words.
"We merely wished to spread God's gospel while opening new territory for the Empire."
Franz did not like such a pale and powerless explanation in the slightest. Still, the Church had indeed often played a pioneering role, so he tacitly accepted it.
"Your Majesty, Lord Eduard Taaffe, Governor of Tanzania, refused to extend us aid. That is what led to the situation today."
Franz could not simply sit by and let Archbishop Rauscher shift the blame like this.
"Did you expect him to launch a cross-sea expedition without