Chapter 112
Chapter 112
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 112
Chapter Title: Aide (1)
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Richthofen, the Foreign Minister, was being laid to rest.
The sky was blanketed in thick, dark clouds, as if mirroring the shock gripping everyone's hearts over his sudden death.
"You've arrived, Baron."
"Chancellor von Bülow."
I'd come to the funeral dressed in black mourning attire. As I greeted him, the Chancellor gave a slight nod in return.
Today, neither I nor the Chancellor had the energy even for a handshake.
"I still can't believe this is real. What on earth happened?"
"......"
"Do you know? Oswald was the colleague and friend who led the cabinet alongside me as Foreign Minister from the day I became Chancellor. For him to leave us so abruptly like this... it's unbearably hard."
The Chancellor muttered in lament, his face shadowed with grief.
Richthofen's death had come as a complete shock—not just to me and the Chancellor, but to everyone who knew him.
"Has the cause of death been determined?"
"The doctors say it was due to a chronic condition. Apparently, even he didn't know about it."
Come to think of it, back on the day we signed the Anglo-German Alliance, Foreign Minister Richthofen had suddenly broken into a coughing fit.
I'd assumed it was just a cold at the time, but clearly, I'd been wrong.
'If I'd noticed his illness then, could I have prevented his death?'
No, no. What good would regretting the past do now?
It would only torment me further.
"You look like you're struggling too. Well, you and Foreign Minister Richthofen were close. Still, chin up. Oswald wouldn't want you suffering over this."
"Chancellor..."
"Sit here and collect yourself. I need to go convey His Majesty's and Her Majesty's condolences to Oswald's family."
With that, the Chancellor patted my back and headed off to meet Richthofen's family.
I sat alone on a pew in the church hosting the funeral, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Yeah. Those left behind have to keep moving forward."
That's what the Minister would have wanted too.
Feeling a bit more at ease, I let out a long breath, as if expelling the lump in my chest.
"Haaah. When the hell does a funeral end?"
As I started to stand, an unfamiliar voice drifted from nearby.
I slowly turned to see where it came from.
"Manfred, your elder from the family has passed. You need to act with some decorum. You're not a child anymore."
"Even if he's family, he's some distant relative. I've never even met the guy."
"Good grief, I need to tell your instructors at the cadet school to be stricter with you. When will you ever grow up?"
"Aw, Mom!"
Richthofen relatives, maybe?
A boy about my age scowled at his mother's nagging.
Well, kids our age were smack in the middle of puberty—prime time for rebellion.
Even Joachim and Luise, who hadn't been like that before, had started bickering with Empress Augusta over trivial things lately.
"Look at that boy. He seems your age, and just see how composed he is."
"?"
The boy's mother suddenly pointed at me.
She must have mistaken my quiet sitting for maturity.
The boy, annoyed at being compared to me, shot me a sour look.
"......An Oriental? Mom, do we have any Asian relatives?"
"Of course not. I think I know who he is, though. Why don't you go ask? Might be a good chance to make a friend."
The boy's mother smiled warmly at me and pushed her son toward me.
She knew who I was and saw this as an opportunity to build connections for her son.
At least it beat being called a chink.
'Nice as that is, couldn't they whisper a bit quieter so I don't hear?'
Now I just felt awkward.
Pretending not to hear their conversation, I stayed put. Unable to resist his mother's prodding, the boy grumbled as he approached me.
"Hey, who are you?"
This little punk...
"......Isn't it polite to introduce yourself before asking someone else's name?"
"Me? Baron Manfred Albrecht von Richthofen. A... distant relative of the late Foreign Minister Oswald von Richthofen."
"Cough?!"
His impudent attitude—where'd his manners go?—irked me so much that I snapped back aggressively without thinking. He clutched his chest and introduced himself.
And I nearly choked.
'It's the Red Baron!'
The Red Baron, Manfred von Richthofen.
The king of the skies who struck terror into Entente pilots during World War I.
The world's most famous pilot and ace of aces stood right in front of me.
Of course, it would be a few more years before he became that legendary figure.
"There, I introduced myself. Your turn—who are you?"
"Baron Hans von Choi. Friend of the late Minister Richthofen."
"Oh."
Upon hearing my name, realization dawned. Interest and curiosity lit up his previously flippant face.
"The boy who saved the Kaiser, huh? Makes sense—no other Eastern noble in the German Empire. Can't believe I didn't recognize you."
He muttered that and plopped down beside me.
"We look about the same age, same rank too. Mind if I drop the formalities?"
"You're already doing it."
"Hahaha, right? Don't mind. Finally, something interesting at this boring funeral."
"No grief for the deceased?"
"You were close to the Foreign Minister, so it's natural you're sad. Me? Not really. Honestly, aside from sharing the family name, we had nothing in common."
Fair enough. To Richthofen here, it was just some stranger passing.
Like a distant clan elder dying back home—removed by several degrees.
'His parents probably dragged him here just because of the shared baron Richthofen name.'
"I've heard a lot about you, though. So many wild stories, I can't tell what's true."
"Like what?"
"Like rumors you're the Kaiser's favorite mistress?"
"You little..."
I almost swore and clamped my hand over my mouth.
This was Foreign Minister Richthofen's funeral. Stay calm, Hans.
"That reaction says it's not true."
"Obviously!"
"Haha, thought so. Bet with my friends on it. This'll earn me a nice payout."
Should I be mad he bet on absurd rumors, or smile that he bet they were false?
As I wrestled with mixed feelings, he continued.
"Heard you're building something called an airplane in Frankfurt?"
"Yeah, that's real. Interested?"
Talk about early promise—he was already eyeing aviation.
Perfect chance to steer the Red Baron toward piloting sooner.
I waited expectantly for his reply.
"Hmm, if I had to say... yeah, kinda. Last time I got leave from cadet school, I saw moving pictures of you in one at the theater with friends. Looked awesome."
The film shot for promoting the plane when Prince Heinrich flew it.
Who knew it'd lead here.
"Want to bring your friends to Frankfurt for a look?"
"For real?"
"Sure. We're connected by fate, after all."
I smiled like a fisherman watching a fish bite, and said it to him.
His friends would be noble boys my age, cadet school students.
If they got hooked on planes, we'd gain future pilots, and military adoption would smooth out.
With German nobles' militaristic bent, many parents or relatives were active generals. Hard for them to ignore kids obsessed with planes.
No parent beats their child, after all.
Plus, befriending Manfred von Richthofen meant gains for me too.
Beyond the Red Baron fame, his prestigious lineage could spread my influence among peer nobles.
Just kids now, but future power players in the Empire.
No downside to early networking.
"You're a better guy than I thought."
"Same here. Let's stay friends."
As Manfred and I chatted amiably, I caught his mother smiling warmly from afar.
She probably figured our friendship could get her son in the Kaiser's good graces.
Silly worry, given Manfred von Richthofen's future.
He'd soon outshine even the Kaiser in fame and adoration.
Though his end needed changing, of course.
"See you later, Manfred."
"Yeah. Take care till then, Hans. I'll introduce you to my brother Lothar and cousin Wolfram next time."
As the funeral wrapped up and people began leaving the church, I bid farewell to Manfred too.
Lothar and Wolfram, his brother and cousin.
Both notable in their own right.
Lothar von Richthofen downed 40 foes, nearly matching his brother's prowess—even took out Britain's ace Albert Ball.
Wolfram von Richthofen later gained infamy for the Guernica bombing with incendiaries, a capable air force commander.
Future Luftwaffe pillars, either way.
Chance to nudge them toward piloting early.
"Heh heh, made a new friend instead of just farewells at a funeral?"
"Chancellor von Bülow."
He approached as I waved off the Richthofens departing with family.
"Looks your age. A Richthofen lad?"
"Yes. Manfred von Richthofen—great-nephew to the late Colonel Manfred von Richthofen, who was His Majesty's adjutant until last year."
"Ah, that friend of His Majesty's. I remember. Good to build ties with prestigious families. It'll help with what you'll be doing next, Baron."
"Pardon? Next?"
I tilted my head, and he smiled.
"Oswald's replacement. Can't leave the Foreign Ministry vacant forever."
"True."
Our British alliance gave breathing room, but with future events looming, diplomacy remained vital for the Empire.
"That's why I'm nominating you as the next Foreign Minister."
"What???"
Question marks exploded on my face at his words.
Me? Foreign Minister?
"You're joking, right?"
"Of course. You didn't fall for that, did you?"
"......"
I stared at him coldly, wordlessly.
Got my hopes up for nothing.
"Kekeke. I'll recommend Heinrich von Tschirschky to His Majesty as next Foreign Minister. But he wants you as his aide."
"Not joking this time?"
"Nope."
He chuckled.
"Personally, I think you'd make a fine Foreign Minister. But you're too young. If you really want it, wait till you're at least eighteen."
He had a point.
Besides, in the Empire, Foreign Minister was a heavyweight cabinet post.
Post-Bismarck, with diplomacy souring, the role gained immense prestige and responsibility.
Often seen as a stepping stone to Chancellor.
The Chancellor before me had been Foreign Minister; his predecessor, the Marquess of Klotz von Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst, too.
'No need to rush yet.'
"Then I'll gladly accept."
"Knew you wouldn't refuse. Your shamelessness isn't just any shamelessness."
I shrugged at his words.
Finally, official entry into diplomacy.
Couldn't cling to the temporary "Kaiser's proxy" role forever, with its clear limits.
"Keep at it then. Gain experience, grow fast—you'll handle bigger things soon."
He placed a hand on my shoulder, smiling like a kindly grandfather.
But why did his parting words sound like a greedy boss eager for his star black sheep to grow quick?