"Oh," said the Tsar's Secretary, "the British have also indicated that they will persuade Sweden to respect our interests in the Baltic Sea—at least to ensure that Sweden would not launch another attack on our Finnish territories."
Without their support, Sweden, whose national strength had seriously declined, could hardly wage war. Thus, their attitude could definitely have a significant impact on Sweden.
Potemkin suddenly burst out laughing: "Those cunning British, it turns out they were targeting France."
"France?" Herabovitsky said with some confusion, "But the British envoy never mentioned France."
Potemkin proudly patted the wooden table inside the carriage as if he were a hunter who had just discerned the hiding place of a beast: "Why would they expend so much effort to mediate the Prussia-Austria war?"
"This… I really can't figure it out."
"It's to diminish France's military influence over Austria and to dissolve the alliance between the two countries. Since Britain's influence in the German region is insufficient, they can only ask us to persuade Austria.
"And as for Prussia, being their ally, Britain definitely has ways to make William II agree to a ceasefire.
"As for increasing trade volume, that's because in the past two years, trade between Russia and France has rapidly increased, stirring a sense of crisis in them. Increasing Russo-British trade would squeeze the trade space between Russia and France.
"They restrain Sweden also to ensure the smooth sailing of our Baltic Sea shipping routes."
Most of the Russo-British trade sailed from Riga through the Baltic Sea, passing through the Skagerrak Strait to reach England.
Potemkin continued: "And the British are concerned that French investments in the Donbass region will cause us to hesitate, so they counter with investments in the Port of Crimea.
"In a nutshell, everything they do ultimately falls on weakening France.
"This is indeed good. Let them fight; we will be able to find many opportunities to benefit from this process!"
He said this while looking towards Herabovitsky: "So, let me guess, the Tsar is likely preparing to accept the British proposal, isn't she?"
"It seems that the Tsar is inclined in that direction. Of course, this would require your agreement also."
Outside Saint Petersburg, in the Royal hunting ground.
Catherine II sat on horseback, smilingly watching the nobles in the distance shouting and driving the game, imagining herself among them, galloping in pursuit.
Beside her, a young man in his early twenties, very handsome and with a French air about him, casually made small talk: "Those British are really generous. This year, the French have invested less than three hundred thousand rubles in Donbass, yet the British come prepared to invest millions of rubles, with a further investment of over five hundred thousand to come."
The nobles deliberately drove the game towards the Tsar's position. The young man, seeing two wild boars not far away, busily handed a hunting rifle to Catherine II and helped her steady the barrel.
The Female Tsar was already 63 years old and her body wasn't what it used to be; holding and aiming the gun was quite difficult for her.
She held her breath, aimed at the robust male wild boar, and pulled the trigger.
A thunderous boom followed—the young man waved away the gun smoke, only to see the shot had missed. The quarry, startled by the noise, scrambled into the bushes.
"The way that boar ran looked just like an Ottoman deserter," the young man quickly made a little joke to distract the Tsar, before continuing his task as a salesman, "With the British involved, I believe the Port of Crimea will soon become bustling..."
Having received a substantial gratuity from the British Foreign Minister, he naturally had to do his best to promote their cause.
Catherine II turned her head and smiled at him, asking, "Dear, you keep mentioning the British, but do you know what they are here for this time?"
Indeed, this attractive "fresh meat" was her currently most favored lover, Pladen Zubov.
Whenever she saw his charming face, she felt a sense of relaxation.
Zubov paused, hesitatingly said, "Supposedly, it's to improve Russo-British relations?"
The Female Tsar laughed: "The differences between Russia and Britain far outweigh any room for cooperation; it is only their trade needs that link them together."
Zubov flashed a brilliant smile: "Then they are here to..."
Catherine II shook her head, pointing to some silhouettes in the distance: "The game is approaching."
"Fresh meat" quickly passed her the rifle.
Catherine II aimed at a wild boar, but couldn't help thinking that if Grigori were here, he would certainly have seen that the British were here to suppress France.
Grigori was Potemkin's nickname for his first name "Grigory."
The man she missed the most was still him. Unfortunately, his health had collapsed; he was completely unfit for a lover's duties, but he still used his brain and courage to manage the country for her.
When he returned, they would discuss in detail how to seek the most benefits between England and France. She thought this to herself as she forcefully pulled the trigger.
The flash of gunfire sent a lead ball precisely into the eye of the wild boar, causing it to topple instantly onto the grass.
In a meticulous brick-red villa two streets away from Schonbrunn Palace, Norbert Christel, vice-president of the Vienna Chamber of Commerce, looked at the Duke of Leeds in surprise and confirmed: "Are you saying that we should order goods worth three million florins from France all at once?"
Three million florins was equivalent to seven and a half million francs, which was undoubtedly a tempting large deal.
"No, not a direct order." The British man smiled and shook his head, "That is only the deposit."
Christel's eyes grew even wider: "Deposit? So you mean the final transaction amount will exceed ten million florins?!"
"My bottom line is twelve million, the more the better," said the Duke of Leeds, as if he was talking about rocks instead of Gold Coins.
"But why would you want to help the French make money?" the president of the Chamber expressed some dissatisfaction, "French goods have already taken too much of our market. I fear no one would be willing to do this.
"Moreover, even if we pooled all the money from the Chamber, I'm afraid we wouldn't be able to come up with such a large sum."
"You have misunderstood, my old friend," the Duke of Leeds was still smiling amicably, fiddling with the teacup in his hands, "First of all, we are always talking about three hundred thousand British Pounds, oh, that's three million florins.
"Secondly, this money will be provided by me. You and your friends at the Chamber just need to take the money and order goods from French factories. I am also willing to pay you a handsome fee."
"I am even more puzzled now," Christel's eyes were filled with confusion, "So what happens after the goods are ordered, who will pay the final amount?"
"There will be no final amount," the Duke of Leeds shook his head, "After the French goods are produced, they will just rot in the warehouse."
Christel was shocked: "Are you suggesting that we break the contract?!"