England is a Nation of Gentlemen(?)
June 10, 1926, Addis Ababa, Mehal Sefari garrison.
The sky had been heavy since early morning. June in Addis Ababa was already on the cusp of the rainy season, the highland air beginning to thicken with moisture. Clouds were piling up swiftly along the ridgeline behind the palace, and a faint rumble of thunder echoed from the distance once.
I had chosen the Mehal Sefari garrison as today's meeting place. The palace conference room was diplomatic territory—a space with a table, chairs, and both sides seated across from each other, exchanging words. Meeting Russell and Colli di Felizzano there would frame the conversation from the start to fit that setting. Britain and Italy would present their demands, and Ethiopia would respond, naturally falling into that structure.
But that was the last thing we wanted now. By receiving them at a military garrison, we were signaling our chosen backdrop: Ethiopia viewed this not as a diplomatic negotiation table, but as a discussion grounded in military reality. Of course, they would read the signal. Men clever enough to serve as envoys surely would.
Ten o'clock in the morning. Two automobiles pulled up in front of the garrison's main gate. I stood near the platform on one side of the parade ground. Not in imperial regalia, but in the concise, dignified attire reserved for official appearances outside the palace, emblazoned clearly with imperial insignia. The golden braid draping from my right shoulder to my chest caught the eye especially well today. Nothing was pinned to my chest. The pistol holster lay hidden beneath the silk lining—a habit unchanged since 1896.
The two men stepped down from their cars and approached side by side. Claude Russell, British envoy. He had been in post for over three years now, succeeding Wilfred Thesiger. Tall with a square jaw, he was a seasoned diplomat with experience in Indian colonial administration. Today he wore a suit with his diplomatic badge, his stride firm.
Giuseppe Colli di Felizzano, Italian envoy. His gaze hadn't changed since I first saw it at Versailles. It was the same today. As they drew near and the garrison came into view, I didn't miss the subtle shift in their steps.
The parade ground. At my orders, one battalion of Mehal Sefari had been running drills here since early morning—bayonet training and a shooting demonstration. I'd timed it to wrap up an hour and a half before their arrival, so the soldiers stood in perfect formation by the time they showed. Hundreds of rifle-bearing troops lined both sides of the ground, faces fixed forward, postures impeccable. And those rifles were of my own design.
Look. This is Ethiopia. I said it only in my mind.
"Thank you both for coming such a long way."
I greeted them first in French. Russell bowed slightly in response.
"It is an honor to accept Your Majesty's invitation."
Colli di Felizzano offered his greeting too, but his eyes flicked once more toward the parade ground before returning to me. I could read what that brief glance was calculating.
I led them to the outdoor chairs beside the platform. A single table stood there, with one envelope of documents placed atop it.
"Before we begin, there's something I must say."
I spoke as I sat. Russell's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. I left the envelope untouched on the table and continued.
"Ethiopia is currently formulating plans for western water resource development and inland railway expansion. Specifically, reservoir construction utilizing tributaries of the upper Blue Nile River, and a mainline railway connecting Addis Ababa to our western provinces."
A brief silence fell. Russell glanced down at the documents, then lifted his gaze. For the first time, Colli di Felizzano's smiling face stiffened subtly.
Seizing the opening, I pressed on.
"The target completion date is set for 1939. Given Ethiopia's terrain, long-term construction is inevitable, with funding allocated in phases."
1939. As I voiced the number, I suppressed a wry internal smile. Truth be told... even starting now would be a stretch, and with our current budget, groundbreaking itself falls into long-term planning. Heruy's technical advisory team began designs this spring, but "in formulation" was the most accurate phrasing.
Spoon-fed construction. A term from a neighborhood in my past life. I revealed it publicly for a reason. No matter how it turns out, declaring intent to proceed can sometimes be a stronger diplomatic asset.
Ethiopia publicly announcing it will develop its own water resources? Add that we're planning domestic railway lines? Then Britain's demand for dam-building rights and Italy's for railway concessions across Ethiopia become external interference in areas we've already claimed.
Realistically, they would calculate how flimsy that 1939 timeline was. Accounting for Ethiopia's current tech level and budget, thirteen years for reservoirs wasn't even optimistic. But the plan didn't need to be flawless. What mattered was Ethiopia staking our claim—and that claim already registered through official diplomatic channels.
Colli di Felizzano spoke first.
"Your Majesty, Italy wishes to formally discuss with the Ethiopian government the necessity of communications infrastructure linking Eritrea and Italian Somaliland. That is the purpose of today's meeting."
He'd omitted "railway"—this man knew how to choose his words.
"Ethiopia fully recognizes the need for infrastructure development. However, plans for infrastructure within Ethiopian territory are a sovereign matter for the Ethiopian government. Discussions framed as demands for concessions from outsiders are not feasible."
I stated it clearly. Evenly. Without emotion.
"Moreover, as of yesterday, an official letter on this matter has been sent to the League of Nations."
I picked up the envelope from the table and handed it to them.
"This summarizes the content of the correspondence between your two nations and Ethiopia's position thereon. The same has been forwarded to the League Council President."
As Colli di Felizzano took the envelope, his gaze sharpened. A short silence followed. In that silence, I read what lay within: bewilderment. Irritation. And beneath it, the dawning realization that it was irreversible.
He knew what it meant for their secret bilateral agreement to be dragged before the League of Nations Council via official correspondence. Their plan to quietly notify and pressure Ethiopia into acceptance had been hauled onto the public diplomatic stage.
"Your Majesty."
Colli di Felizzano's voice hardened.
"Italy desires to maintain friendly relations with Ethiopia. However, the connection between Eritrea and Italian Somaliland is a matter directly tied to the strategic interests of the Italian Empire. If Ethiopia chooses to elevate this to the international stage, the consequences..."
"Envoy."
I cut him off, incredulous.
"Do you recall the 1919 Treaty of Versailles provisions?"
Colli di Felizzano fell silent. I continued.
"The territorial integrity of the Ethiopian Empire falls under League of Nations protection. Italy signed that provision too. Ethiopia sending a letter to the League is simply exercising our rights within that protective framework. What results from it depends on how each nation upholds the treaty."
As my words ended, a gust swept in from the parade ground. Wind heavy with pre-rainy season moisture. The soldiers' rifles caught the light and flashed briefly.
Colli di Felizzano sat gripping the envelope, wordless for a moment. Then he rose from his chair.
"We have noted the Ethiopian government's position."
The smile had vanished entirely from his face. His voice was controlled, but I read what simmered beneath: rage—the same rage that had forced him to yield to Marshal Park Young-ho's single remark at Versailles in 1919, now resurfacing after seven years.
"Italy's position will be conveyed through official channels later."
With that, he turned. His attendants hurried after him, and Colli di Felizzano strode toward the garrison gate, back turned. His footsteps thudded firmly against the earth.
I didn't watch him to the end. Beside me, Russell had quietly observed the scene without rising with him. Meaning Britain had more to say. I turned to Russell, and he placed his document envelope on the table, speaking lowly.
"Your Majesty, may I speak frankly?"
"Please do."
"The British government had no intent in its correspondence with Italy to infringe on Ethiopia's sovereignty. The Sudan irrigation project serves the agricultural base of British Sudan, and Blue Nile flow regulation is directly linked to food security for millions in the Egyptian region."
I listened to his logic, responding inwardly with quiet acknowledgment.
...That's not entirely false.
The Blue Nile flow issue was indeed critical for Sudanese and Egyptian agriculture. As someone versed in history, I knew well how the river's volume from the Ethiopian highlands fed the downstream regions. Britain's demands weren't purely malevolent. Not purely altruistic, either, of course.
"Ethiopia values its friendly relations with Britain. But foreign requests for construction permits on our water resources amount to surrendering a core element of Ethiopian sovereignty. How would you receive it if the French government demanded dam-building rights on the upper Ganges in India?"
Russell's eyelids lowered once, then rose. He knew the analogy struck true.
"Then Britain proposes establishing a joint consultative body on Blue Nile water utilization between our nations. One that respects Ethiopia's sovereignty while also considering downstream needs."
A joint consultative body. History from my past life recorded how tangled the Nile water issues became throughout the century among Ethiopia, Britain, Egypt, and Sudan. The 1929 Anglo-Egyptian Nile Waters Agreement excluded Ethiopia, sowing seeds for greater future disputes. Russell's proposal here stood one step before that historical fork.
Ethiopia's participation would internationally affirm our stake in the Blue Nile—not as a bystander, but a principal party. Not a bad position.
I felt a hollow chuckle rising inside. Just once, internally. Not from vague absurdity, but from how perfectly it fell into place. Britain and Italy had joined hands to pressure Ethiopia, only for Italy to storm off irritated while Britain pulled a compromise from the table.
It revealed from the start that their interests weren't identical. Italy needed a railway piercing Ethiopia for strategic gain—a demand clashing head-on with our sovereignty. But Britain needed Blue Nile cooperation. That could be managed through compromise and collaboration with Ethiopia, without stripping our sovereignty wholesale.
Their differing demands had split here on this platform.
A consultative body. That could be shaped into something we can accept.
Of course, with conditions. Ethiopia holding the initiative. Safeguards against outcomes unilaterally disadvantaging us. But those were details for later negotiations, not decisions here and now.
I looked at Russell.
"Envoy, the specifics of today's proposal require thorough review. Ethiopia has no desire to rush this matter."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"Let us meet again in early August, in formal consultation. Bring documents outlining the proposed body's structure and Ethiopia's scope of authority. We shall come prepared with our review."