Chapter 103
Chapter 103
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: German Empire Broadcasting (3)
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“...I never imagined I’d see you here of all places, Mr. Morgan.”
“Heh heh, Mr. Marconi. Anyone would think you’d spotted the devil himself.”
“That’s not entirely wrong, in a manner of speaking.”
Guglielmo Marconi muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue in frustration as if this were a headache he didn’t need.
He had decided to take a swing at the German Empire Broadcasting DRR, which had burst into his monopolized wireless communications industry like a comet. To that end, Marconi had filed a lawsuit in the American courts, claiming DRR was infringing on his patents.
Of course, DRR’s base was in Europe—in the German Empire, no less—but Marconi had long since heard the story of the boy who saved the Kaiser until his ears were numb.
As long as Baron Hans von Choi, the owner of DRR, enjoyed the Kaiser Wilhelm’s favor, no German court would ever rule in favor of Marconi Wireless Telegraph Company.
That was why Marconi had filed in the U.S. courts instead, targeting American patents rather than the European ones DRR held.
Marconi’s goal wasn’t to destroy DRR outright. It was simply to win a judgment that DRR’s radios infringed on his patents, squeeze some money out of them, and snatch a share of the radio business rights.
It was one of the things Marconi did best, and it didn’t matter much whether the patents were American or European.
Of course, deep down, he wanted to crush DRR just as thoroughly as he had his other competitors who dared to challenge his throne.
But with the German imperial family backing them, completely toppling DRR was practically impossible.
One misstep, and it could spark an international diplomatic war.
Given the German Empire’s notorious reputation, that was something to avoid at all costs.
‘But if the German Empire doesn’t get involved, I’ve got nothing to fear.’
With that in mind, Marconi had strolled into the American courthouse whistling lightly. But damn it all, representing DRR was none other than J.P. Morgan himself, flanked by a legion of lawyers.
“I thought you’d cut ties with Tesla after that terrorist attack by those Southern lunatics. Looks like I was mistaken.”
“Let’s just say parting with old memories gave me a chance to make a good new friend. Besides, I was just starting to have some fun with radio, so how could I stand by while you try to throw sand in the gears, Mr. Marconi?”
He’d heard that U.S. radio rights were with J.P. Morgan’s bank, but he’d assumed it was just a contract for DRR’s American expansion. Apparently, DRR and Morgan had a deeper connection than Marconi had realized.
Otherwise, this big-nosed New York banker wouldn’t show up in person.
‘Damn... this just complicated the math.’
J.P. Morgan was a tough opponent even for Marconi, who had sunk countless rivals through patent lawsuits.
He wasn’t someone you wanted to pick a fight with lightly.
“Shall we head in, then?”
“...”
But withdrawing the suit now was out of the question.
The trial had already begun, and behind those doors, the judge was waiting impatiently for them to enter.
‘No helping it now.’
Unhappy as he was with the situation, Marconi had his pride to uphold.
Steeling himself for battle with Morgan, Marconi stepped into the courtroom.
Praying that the high-priced legal team he’d hired would outperform Morgan’s.
“So, the plaintiff claims that the triode vacuum tube used in DRR’s radios infringes on the diode vacuum tube patent held by Marconi Wireless Telegraph Company.”
“That’s correct, Your Honor.”
Marconi’s lawyer nodded toward the judge, who adjusted his glasses and reviewed the submitted evidence.
The weapon Marconi and his team had drawn against DRR and its radios was none other than the triode vacuum tube—developed by Lee De Forest for radio use.
Marconi’s side argued that the triode wasn’t just influenced by John Ambrose Fleming’s 1904 diode (a collaborator of theirs); it was essentially a diode with some added tech.
This was the same claim Marconi had made in the original timeline when he sued De Forest for infringement.
Back then, it had worked—the judges ruled in Marconi’s favor, forcing De Forest to share rights to the triode.
But now, things were different from the original history in several ways.
First, thanks to Hans’s involvement and J.P. Morgan’s “show me the money,” the triode—originally invented in 1906—had emerged around the same time as the diode.
In other words, the triode wasn’t a derivative; it had been developed simultaneously.
And most importantly, sitting here today wasn’t De Forest, but J.P. Morgan Bank’s infamous, powerhouse legal team.
“Your Honor, the plaintiff claims the triode stole some of the diode’s technology, but that’s an absurd assertion on its face.”
“Do you have grounds for that statement?”
“Yes. If the triode truly copied the diode, it should have appeared months or years later at earliest. You can’t copy what doesn’t exist yet. But look here.”
One lawyer pulled out a document and held it up for all in the courtroom to see, as if to say, if you have eyes, behold.
“As this document shows, the triode patent was filed just days after the diode’s development! They didn’t even have time to properly examine the diode’s tech. How could they have copied it?!”
“Ah, indeed...!”
The judge’s eyes widened, clearly seeing the logic.
Morgan’s team pressed further: the triode and diode shared only fundamental principles and were otherwise unrelated; the plaintiff’s logic was utter nonsense.
“Your Honor, objection!”
Of course, Marconi had no intention of conceding.
“Technology can be stolen during development. Timing is no issue!”
“What? Your Honor! The plaintiff’s claim is pure fabrication. Where’s the evidence De Forest stole anything from the diode?!”
“And does the defense have evidence the triode doesn’t infringe on the diode patent?”
“Hmmm...”
The judge groaned, faced with both sides digging in their heels.
Marconi’s expression wasn’t much better.
His expensive lawyers were holding off Morgan’s assault—for now.
They could cling to ankles and drag things out, but the longer the trial, the worse it got for him.
‘Time to flip the board.’
To break the deadlock, Marconi signaled his team silently.
One of his lawyers spoke up.
“Your Honor, this could drag on forever. To cool tempers and review evidence again, the plaintiff requests a recess.”
“Hmm. Defense, your thoughts?”
Morgan’s lawyers glanced at their boss in the gallery.
Morgan nodded.
“No objection from the defense.”
“Very well. Court is in recess for thirty minutes. We’ll reconvene after.”
The judge banged the gavel, stepped down, and left for break.
The battle shifted to the gallery, where negotiations between Morgan and Marconi began.
“Let’s settle.”
“I’m listening.”
“Yield some radio business rights, and I’ll drop the suit.”
“You want me to betray the baron?”
“Convince the baron. Neither side wants a mudslinging war, right?”
Morgan closed his eyes, deep in thought.
That’s when it happened.
“Mr. Morgan. Urgent cable from Europe.”
His secretary whispered and handed over the telegram.
Morgan read it and smiled at Marconi—the moment he’d been waiting for.
“Sorry, but I’ll have to decline. This matter’s already settled.”
“What?”
“Ask him.”
Marconi turned to where Morgan pointed—and paled as his own secretary rushed in, frantic.
An inexplicable dread washed over Marconi, making him shudder involuntarily.
“Mr. Marconi! Big—huge trouble!”
“Trouble? What kind?”
“The UK headquarters...”
The secretary whispered urgently into Marconi’s ear, as if it couldn’t be said aloud.
“That... sneaky bastard...!”
It didn’t take long for Marconi’s face to flush red.
“You come visit after ages, and it’s to pressure one company? You’re quite the eccentric, lad.”
“Haha, the German Empire won’t forget Allied Britain’s goodwill, Your Majesty.”
“Enough. Between us, how could I refuse such a trifle?”
I beamed and expressed my thanks. Edward VII lifted his tea cup leisurely, as if it were nothing.
While J.P. Morgan handled Marconi in America, I’d rushed to London to lean on Edward VII and the British government.
The reason? Obviously to pressure Guglielmo Marconi and Marconi Wireless Telegraph Company into dropping their suit against DRR.
Marconi would curse me filthy if he knew, but they’d played dirty first—no harm there.
“In return, don’t forget your promise.”
“Would I ever?”
In exchange for silencing Marconi Wireless, Edward VII demanded Britain get radios first—before any other nation.
Broadcast station support was a bonus.
Seems our Tum-Tum king was quite impressed by Kaiser Wilhelm II’s radio address.
No reason for me to refuse.
Requests like Edward’s were pouring in from everywhere anyway; I just needed to bump Britain to the top of the priority list.
“Speaking of, Wilhelm’s wedding is coming up soon.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The Wilhelm in question was Crown Prince Wilhelm, not Kaiser Wilhelm II.
The crown prince’s wedding was right around the corner.
“Set for June 6th?”
“Yes. Berlin’s already buzzing.”
And for good reason: Crown Prince Wilhelm’s wedding was the German Empire’s biggest event of 1905.
Every German celebrated the imperial joy, and Berlin was in full festival mode, more vibrant than ever.
“So even he’s climbing into the coffin called marriage of his own accord.”
“Bit harsh for well-wishes to the groom, no?”
“You’re young, Hans—you wouldn’t get it yet. But once you’ve lived marriage, you’ll understand.”
Edward VII spoke with uncharacteristic gravity.
Fair enough; his marriage couldn’t exactly be called peaceful.
Edward VII had maintained a cold relationship with his wife, Denmark’s Queen Alexandra, except for the early honeymoon days.
The rift stemmed partly from personality clashes, but mostly from Edward’s flamboyant womanizing.
He’d even openly taken his mistress Alice Keppel into the bedroom right in front of Alexandra.
In another era, it might’ve ended in divorce, like Charles III and Diana.
Of course, I was perceptive enough not to bring it up.
‘Marriage, huh.’
This being the times, I knew it’d come eventually. But with my past life as a romance-less loser, it felt daunting.
‘Still, if I do marry someday...’
A girl’s bright smile flashed in my mind. I shook my head with a wry grin.
It was a pipe dream, and dreams were just illusions, after all.