Chapter 106
Chapter 106
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 106
Chapter Title: Science & Adventure (1)
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After Crown Prince Wilhelm and Crown Princess Cecilie's wedding concluded splendidly, the German Empire emerged from its festive mood and returned to everyday life.
And, as embarrassing as it is to admit, I had secretly begun dating Luise.
That said, even though it was supposed to be a secret, pretty much everyone in the imperial family—except for Wilhelm II—seemed to already know about our relationship.
I could accept the dating part, but could I really marry Luise?
Unlike Augusta Empress, who smiled warmly whenever she saw us, the Kaiser was likely to disapprove.
After all, our marriage would be a clear case of marrying beneath one's station.
Of course, such unions weren't impossible.
Later on, Prince Oscar—Wilhelm II's fifth son—even married one of his mother's maids, and Princess Margarete, his youngest sister, had married someone of lower standing.
Princess Margarete's husband, Friedrich Karl, was from a branch of the Hessian family, the Landgraves of Hesse-Kassel, but he wasn't the heir because his brother was ahead of him.
Of course, his brother later married beneath his station too, making Friedrich Karl the head later on—but that wouldn't happen until 1925, far in the future.
That's why Wilhelm II initially opposed his sister's marriage but soon blessed it, since Princess Margarete wasn't particularly important to his position anyway.
The German Empire followed Salic law, so women had no claim to the throne—including Luise.
Thus, even if her father and brothers all died in some airship accident like in a certain game, Luise had zero chance of becoming Kaiserin.
'That's why Luise doesn't seem too bothered by the class difference...'
Even so, would that Wilhelm II really understand?
Luise planned to push forward, arguing that with so many brothers and no succession rights, what did it matter if she married beneath her station—but honestly, I still wasn't sure.
'In the end, I'll just have to work hard on this myself.'
Anyway, while Germany quieted down, that didn't mean the world had.
The very next day after the Crown Prince couple's wedding, Norway—which had been in union with Sweden—formally declared independence from Sweden.
But this didn't spark war in Northern Europe.
Most Norwegians supported independence anyway, and aside from King Oscar II, the Swedes didn't strongly oppose it, so the split happened relatively peacefully.
As in history, come November, King Haakon VII would ascend the throne—brother to Christian X (now Crown Prince Wilhelm's brother-in-law) and son-in-law to Edward VII.
"Norway reminds me—Roald Amundsen's South Pole expedition was in 1909, right?"
I recalled his preparations starting in 1907, two years from now.
At that time, Amundsen's goal had actually been the North Pole, not the South.
His homeland Norway was closer to the Arctic, and reaching the North Pole first had been his lifelong dream.
But right before the expedition, news came that American Robert Peary had reached it, so Amundsen tearfully abandoned his dream and switched to the South Pole.
But Amundsen never knew: Peary's claim was later exposed as a lie.
That's why, excluding the Inuit, Amundsen—who first flew over the North Pole after his South Pole success—is now recognized as the first to reach it.
'If only Amundsen had learned the truth in his lifetime.'
Unfortunately, it all came out after his death.
But if I sponsored him, maybe Amundsen could beat Peary to the North Pole?
As someone I'd admired since childhood, I'd love to see him achieve his dream—but there were other reasons too.
"I've made a bundle from radio already, so it's time to ramp up sponsorships."
Nothing solidifies a noble's position in high society like patronage.
And if my protégés succeed big? Perfect.
Just revealing I backed Tesla—the radio's inventor—had boosted my reputation in European high society tremendously.
Why not become Baron Hans Choi, the big whale of science and culture?
For Luise's sake too, I needed more fame and influence, and there were plenty worth sponsoring.
Like famed failure Ernest Shackleton, or Albert Einstein, who this year dropped special relativity, Brownian motion, and the photon hypothesis, shaking up science.
And Fritz Haber—I needed to approach him soon.
"Perfect timing too. The people I've been waiting for have finally crossed the Atlantic."
The Wright brothers were coming to the German Empire.
The moment German aviation took its first step.
"First Tesla, now more scientists."
"Please bear with it until the Wright brothers find a house."
"Hans, you said the same thing when Tesla came to Schloss Friedrichshof."
Princess Margarete grumbled, eyeing me with displeasure.
But it was unavoidable.
Great land south of Frankfurt—perfect for an airplane factory and runway—had come cheap, so I bought it.
But we still hadn't found a proper house for the Wrights.
They said sleeping and eating at the factory was fine, but I couldn't let my protégés live like foreign laborers.
Not just their health—my reputation was at stake.
So I asked Princess Margarete to host them at Schloss Friedrichshof until they settled, but her expression soured predictably.
The cause? Tesla, naturally.
"At this rate, Schloss Friedrichshof will be called the scientists' house."
"Oh, that's a nice nickname."
"Tesla doesn't count."
Come on, the Wrights weren't eccentrics like Tesla. No way they'd overstay.
I soothed the irritated princess—thanks to oblivious Tesla—and eagerly awaited the Wrights' arrival.
Vroom—screech!
About thirty minutes later, a car pulled up in front of Schloss Friedrichshof.
And the people I'd been waiting for stepped out.
"Baron Hans Choi?"
"Wilbur Wright and Orville Wright, right? Welcome to the German Empire!"
The Wright brothers grinned at my greeting and shook hands warmly.
"This is Princess Margarete, managing Schloss Friedrichshof in your stead, and Nikola Tesla."
"Ah, hello. Your Highness."
Unaware they'd meet royalty, the brothers greeted her stiffly but politely, faces tense.
Princess Margarete couldn't help chuckling at their awkward, country-boy charm—her anger easing a bit.
"...At least better than Tesla."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. Nice to meet you, Wilbur Wright, Orville Wright. Treat this as home during your stay."
"Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness. And Tesla—I've heard so much about you. An honor."
"Glad to meet friends of the sky. Can't wait to see your flying machine."
"Haha, I'd show you now, but our planes are still crossing the Atlantic."
"A shame. But anticipation is half the fun."
Tesla murmured, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Last time he'd insisted electrical engineering beat aviation—but curiosity won out.
Scientifically, of course.
"It's hot. Let's head inside."
A few days later.
I visited the new airplane factory south of Frankfurt with Tesla—the brothers' planes had finally arrived.
"This is Flyer I. Next to it is Flyer II, from last year's Langley contest."
"I heard about that. Flew 400 meters at 15 minutes flawlessly, right?"
"Haha, yes. Langley's face was priceless. Though his students sued us for 'revenge' later—quite a headache for a year."
Orville sighed bitterly, recalling the ordeal.
Their letters mentioned the Smithsonian—led by Langley's disciples—sabotaging them nonstop, so no U.S. sales.
Expected, but still.
Thanks to American science's pettiness, the Wrights came to Germany.
Maybe send Langley and the Smithsonian a thank-you gift later.
"Chin up, Orville. Jealousy toward geniuses is par for the course."
"Thanks, Mr. Tesla."
Tesla—expert on grudges—patted his shoulder sympathetically.
Orville perked up with a smile.
Whirr—whirr—whirr!
"Baron!"
Then, from the runway, propellers roared as Wilbur Wright called out loudly.
He taxied toward us aboard the plane.
"Gentlemen, meet Flyer III—our latest masterpiece!"
Orville beamed proudly, like a father with his child.
Tesla and I eyed Flyer III with interest.
Originally built in October, money sped things up—and improved it.
"Flyer III builds on data from I and II for massive advances. Better stability and control: 45-minute flights, turns, figure-eights—true freedom."
"Ho. I'd love to tear into the principles."
"Haha, scary knowing you mean it, Mr. Tesla."
Me too.
The Tesla I knew would dismantle Flyer III for science without hesitation.
Remind the brothers to lock up later.
Screech!
"Baron, your thoughts on our plane?"
"Way cooler than I imagined!"
Wilbur leaned from the cockpit after stopping; I shouted enthusiastically.
But upgrade that cockpit pronto.
Prone flying? Any crash means death or disability.
Even Wright Model A had seats—but no safety gear, like a ski lift.
'Safety first. Safety.'
And switch from rear pusher props to front tractor config.
Post-WWI, tractors dominated over pushers.
"Baron, shall I demonstrate?"
As I mentally listed improvements, Wilbur offered.
Perfect weather—clear skies. No issues.
I nodded eagerly.
Rumble—rumble!
Props spun furiously.
Flyer III raced down the runway, then slowly lifted as Wilbur pulled the lever.
"Whoa—"
Tesla and I gaped in awe as it soared.
Not fast, but it banked and looped gracefully—beginner aerobatics.
"Wow—what's that?"
"It's flying!"
Children's voices from behind—first-timers spotting it while playing nearby.
One asked:
"Hey big bro! What's that?"
"An airplane. Thing that flies. Soon, skies full of them."
"Whoaaa~"
"I wanna ride!"
"Gotta grow up first."
"Then I can!"
As I petted their heads, playing nice big brother, another voice:
But too familiar.
"Prince Heinrich?!"
Wild Heinrich appeared!
What was Kiel-based navy man doing here?
I tried asking, but he rapid-fired excitedly, no pause:
"Damn, Hans! Hiding something this cool? How could you?!"
"Popping up with nonsense—what?!"
"Nonsense?!"
I stared baffled; he pointed at soaring Flyer III.
"Let me fly that thing too!"
"Oh boy."
I facepalmed.
Who told this guy about airplanes?!