Chapter 114
Chapter 114
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: Aide (3)
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"This is also the blessing of the Mahatma. I'd love to have more conversations with you."
"Ah, yes...."
I nodded awkwardly at Moltke's words while shooting Schlieffen a loaded glance that screamed, Is this guy's head okay?
But Schlieffen, already accustomed to Moltke's eccentric behavior, merely let out a short sigh.
"Don't pay it much mind. Helmut's completely immersed in theosophy or whatever it's called."
"Theosophy? You mean the occult?"
"That's right. Séances and all that nonsense. Even then, he's one of the milder ones. I once visited his house and caught him meditating naked."
Schlieffen clicked his tongue as if reluctant to even recall it, and I unfortunately pictured a nude Moltke in my mind.
Oh, damn it. I desperately wanted to scrub my ears and brain clean right then and there.
"I hear nudism—Freikörperkultur or whatever—is all the rage these days. Young folks these days... I just don't get them."
"Y-Yeah, tell me about it."
Come to think of it, I'd heard that Germany had seen a huge surge in nudism influenced by naturalism as a backlash against authoritarianism and urbanization since the late 19th century.
Of course, that's not the only reason nudism took off in Germany.
Germany, like Britain, was a country short on sunlight. On clear days, people of all ages and genders would bask in the rays. One day, some Germans sunbathing got to thinking:
Wouldn't we get even more sun if we stripped off all our clothes?
So they did just that—tossed their clothes aside.
After that, nude sunbathers sprouted up like mushrooms after rain, and it had a massive impact on popularizing nudism in Germany.
Thanks to this history, even in modern times, Germany has the most nudists—FKK enthusiasts—and its famous mixed saunas owe a lot to that nudist culture.
Not that I'm into that sort of thing.
Setting aside cultural relativism, I still hadn't shaken off my Confucian mindset, so nudism felt... well, a bit overwhelming for now.
"Well, Baron, come on over. Or would you prefer I call you Aide?"
"Baron is fine, Lieutenant General Moltke. Oh, and this is a modest gift to congratulate you on your appointment as Chief of the General Staff."
I handed Moltke a neatly wrapped porcelain piece.
It was one of the gifts I'd received during my visit to the Great Korean Empire. It looked expensive but didn't seem to have any particular historical value, so I figured it was perfect to give to Moltke.
"Ah, the brotherhood of mankind transcends skin color and gender, equal to all. Today, I am once more enlightened to the truths of theosophy."
"Ah, ahahaha...."
Moltke muttered words beyond my shallow intellect and sank into his own little world.
At least he seemed to like me, so maybe it all worked out in the end?
Even if I still couldn't fathom the reason.
'The energies of the universe welcome me'? What the hell does that even mean?
For a second, I thought Moltke was some kind of shaman standing in front of me.
I left Moltke in Count Schlieffen's hands and retreated to a corner to sit in a chair, cooling my throbbing head.
"Oh, Baron, fancy seeing you here."
"Major Ludendorff."
"I heard you got the aide position. Congratulations."
Ludendorff, whom I hadn't seen in a while, greeted me with a genuinely pleased expression.
When I'd left him in Southwest Africa, he looked like an abandoned puppy, but the moment I praised his exploits in the Herero War in my report, he started wagging his tail.
Talk about an easy-to-read guy.
Thanks to that, Ludendorff had been promoted to major seven years ahead of the original history and assigned to the General Staff headquarters ahead of schedule too.
Schlieffen had his eye on him anyway, so it wasn't hard.
"By the way, how's that tank project coming along?"
Ludendorff nodded at my question.
He was currently working in the General Staff's Mobilization Section, and since he was under my command, Schlieffen had appointed him to lead the tank development project before retiring.
"Still in the discussion phase, but luckily, War Minister Einem seems intrigued by the idea of tanks. Should make securing the budget smooth sailing."
"That's good to hear."
"Yes. So, you here to meet the new Chief of the General Staff?"
"Yeah. But he's... quite different from what I expected."
Ludendorff, already privy to the rumors about Moltke, nodded in understanding.
Then he tsked, clearly displeased with Moltke.
"Someone other than Moltke should've gotten the position. Honestly, without His Majesty's favor, do you think he would've made it?"
"I only got this far thanks to His Majesty's favor too, you know?"
"But you have the talent to deserve it, Baron. Moltke, on the other hand—speaking freely among ourselves—everyone knows he can't even hold a candle to my uncle."
He wasn't wrong.
Moltke had arbitrarily tinkered with the Schlieffen Plan because he didn't like it, turning an already shaky strategy into an even bigger mess.
Can't exactly leave him as Chief through World War I like in the original history.
Separate from his inexplicable fondness for me, Moltke lacked the ability and mental fortitude for Chief of the General Staff.
At best, he was a field commander, and entrusting World War I—a war with everything on the line—to one was too risky.
From what I know, Moltke's health was so bad he suffered a stroke right before the war. Time to use that.
In fact, after being dismissed as Chief, his condition worsened, and he died in 1916, just two years later.
Some even said his frail health heavily influenced his weak mentality, so come hell or high water, I needed to replace him before World War I broke out.
Maybe with someone on a leash like Ludendorff.
But Ludendorff lacks the seniority for Chief even by the time war starts.
As I mentioned, he seized real power in the military thanks to becoming a war hero at Tannenberg.
Plus, I couldn't count on the Kaiser's help—Wilhelm II disliked Ludendorff, so even if I recommended him, it was doubtful he'd listen.
"Major Ludendorff, is Erich von Falkenhayn here too?"
"Falkenhayn?"
Ludendorff, who was sipping champagne, tilted his head curiously but scanned the room anyway.
From what I'd heard, Ludendorff and Falkenhayn had a falling out over Eastern Front reinforcements during World War I, but for now, they seemed on neutral terms.
"Ah, there he is. But why are you looking for that guy?"
"I heard his name from the Crown Prince a while back. Thought I'd take the chance to meet him."
I brushed it off like that to Ludendorff, stood up, and headed in the direction his thick finger pointed.
Erich von Falkenhayn.
The man appointed Prussian War Minister in 1913, right before World War I, who took over as Chief of the Imperial German Army General Staff after Moltke botched the early war operations and lost all favor.
Winston Churchill rated him the most capable German general of the war.
Sure, he flopped at Verdun and Palestine, but...
By that logic, I couldn't nitpick since Ludendorff, whom I planned to use, botched the country with his military dictatorship.
Besides, Falkenhayn had solid credentials, like his stellar performance on the Romanian front, akin to Ludendorff's at Tannenberg.
And Wilhelm II likes Falkenhayn.
In fact, most of the military brass, including Ludendorff, Hindenburg, and Rupprecht of Bavaria, disliked him.
He had so many enemies that some said internal animosity played a big role in his Verdun failure.
But that's later. Right now, Falkenhayn enjoyed the Kaiser's favor and was rising fast, recently handling Crown Prince Wilhelm's military education.
Not that the Crown Prince had mentioned him to me specifically.
Anyway, looking at history, no one seemed better suited to replace Moltke right before the war. So I decided to approach him now and build some rapport.
"Major Erich von Falkenhayn?"
"Hm? And you are...?"
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Baron Hans von Choi. I've heard your name plenty from the Crown Prince."
Falkenhayn, chatting with colleagues, froze briefly—clearly not expecting me—but quickly recovered, shaking my hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Baron Choi. I've heard all about you."
"Same here. The Crown Prince sings your praises as a man of great talent."
"Oh, really?"
He smiled, clearly not hating the flattery.
Falkenhayn was the quintessential Prussian officer, but as they say, praise can make even the stoic Prussians dance.
After that, I chatted with him about this and that, laying the groundwork for a connection.
Networks aren't built overnight; they require patient accumulation. This was enough for now.
I also made efforts to acquaint myself with other military heavyweights, like Colonel von Richthofen—Manfred's uncle—and Karl von Bülow, the Chancellor's brother.
Of course, many generals still eyed me warily and only half-listened.
But every little bit adds up to a mountain. These efforts would bear fruit someday.
If not, I'd force them to.
A few days later.
I finally reported for my first day at the Foreign Office.
Why Foreign Office and not Ministry? That's just how Germany's diplomatic branch was named—I can't help it.
Later, it even became tradition; modern Germany's still called the Foreign Office.
Anyway, I'd come here often to meet Foreign Minister von Richthofen.
Now, officially part of the Foreign Office, stepping through these doors felt oddly poignant.
"So you're Baron Hans von Choi."
Guided by a staffer to the Foreign Minister's office, I was greeted by the new Foreign Minister, Heinrich von Tschirschky, his mustache a striking feature.
"An honor to meet you, Minister Tschirschky. Looking forward to working with you."
"No need for formalities. I'm only planning to hold this post for a year anyway."
"Pardon?"
My boss announces on day one he's quitting in a year.
What face do I even make here?
"I only took Foreign Minister because no one else could fill Oswald von Richthofen's spot on short notice. Honestly, I prefer an ambassadorship."
"Ah, I see...."
"Chancellor von Bülow promised to send me to Vienna after my term. Vienna's a beautiful place."
Come to think of it, wasn't Tschirschky the German Ambassador to Austria-Hungary during the Sarajevo incident?
Not a super famous figure, so my memory's fuzzy.
"Anyway, looking forward to your help until then. Just support me like you did Richthofen."
"Understood."
I nodded halfheartedly at Tschirschky, already daydreaming of Vienna, and began reviewing the documents handed over by my predecessor.
Then a staffer approached with something for me.
"Aide, a letter for you."
"A letter?"
I set down the papers and took the envelope addressed to me.
But the name on it made me grimace.
"What's wrong?"
"Every time I get an unexpected letter like this, it spells headache. Doesn't look like this one's different."
I muttered that with a complicated expression, sighing deeply.
And rightly so—the senders were Eduard Bernstein and Karl Johann Kautsky.
Leaders of the German Social Democratic Party (SPD).