Chapter 130
Chapter 130
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: Ongoing Crises (2)
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In March 1909, Tabriz finally fell to the Russian army.
The Tabriz insurgents had held out for 11 months longer than in original history, but with Russia's intervention accelerating, they—who were already suffering from starvation—had no means left to endure.
However, the sacrifice of Tabriz was far from in vain.
In the meantime, the constitutional government had successfully seized complete control of the south and now turned its sights on the capital, Tehran.
Of course, Mohammad Ali Shah wasn't just going to sit back and watch the insurgents swell their ranks.
Backed by Russian support, he personally led his army and boldly marched on Isfahan.
Bang! Boom!
"What in the world is going on?! Why do these mere insurgents have such superior weapons?!"
"Your Majesty, the insurgents' firepower is far stronger than anticipated. We must withdraw from here!"
"Ugh...!"
And just like that, Mohammad Ali Shah suffered a miraculous defeat at the hands of the constitutional government forces.
Armed with British funds and German weapons, the constitutional army boasted better equipment than the Shah's forces, and their morale soared with righteous fury against the tyrant Mohammad Ali Shah.
Moreover, Mohammad Ali Shah was notoriously incompetent as a military leader; in original history, despite simultaneous support from Russia and Britain, he lost to the revolutionaries, abandoned the capital and crown, and fled to Russia.
Hoping for victory in this situation was tantamount to praying for a miracle from Allah.
In the end, Mohammad Ali Shah withdrew his army and retreated to Tehran, while the constitutional soldiers who defended Isfahan let out sighs of relief and erupted in cheers of victory.
However, defeating Mohammad Ali Shah once didn't mean the constitutional government had secured complete victory in the civil war.
The Shah's army remained intact, and Russia—irked by Britain's familiar meddling, a sensation not felt since the Russo-Japanese War—dispatched a large military advisory mission while ramping up support for Mohammad Ali Shah.
On top of that, France, unwilling to let Persia—the land of black gold—fall wholly into British hands, began flooding the Shah's army with their own weapons, following our example.
In the end, Persia hardened into a tense standoff: Mohammad Ali Shah and the Russo-French alliance in the north versus the constitutional government backed by Germany and Britain in the south.
Mohammad Ali Shah clashed across Persia to crush the insurgents illegally occupying the south, while the constitutional government fought to topple the tyrant and safeguard the constitution.
But both sides knew retreat here meant the end, so they had no intention of halting until utterly destroying their foe—and the great powers' interventions only poured oil on the roaring flames.
While the Great Game between Russia and Britain blazed in Persia, I found myself surrounded by the imperial family, reciting a faith confession that suited me not one bit.
"Now, before the Lord and the church, we shall reconfirm the vows you, Hans von Choi, made to God."
May 1909.
In the Friedenskirche in Potsdam—where the Victoria Dowager Empress's funeral had been held—the bishop's solemn voice echoed through the space.
I stood before him, hands piously clasped in a demure and reverent posture, awaiting his words.
"Do you believe in the Creator God?"
"I believe in Almighty God the Father, Creator of heaven and earth."
"Do you believe in the Savior Jesus Christ?"
"The only Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, who suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended into hell; on the third day he rose again from the dead..."
And so the question-and-answer exchange continued for a while, with the bishop asking and me responding.
Right now, in front of the watching imperial family, I was undergoing the rite of confirmation.
I would turn 18 in January of next year, legally becoming an adult, but the devout Kaiser Wilhelm II and Empress Augusta—being the pious sorts they were—wanted me to receive this religious rite of passage beforehand.
I'd thought confirmation was a Catholic thing only, but apparently, the German Lutheran Church performed it too.
Lutheran churches varied by region, but as Protestants akin to Anglicans, they shared much in liturgy and doctrine with Catholicism.
The fact that the priest before me was called a "bishop" rather than a "pastor" highlighted the similarities between Lutheranism and Catholicism.
'That said, when the hell is this going to end?'
Having zero faith since my previous life, this tedious process was so boring it nearly made me yawn outright.
But given the era, and since it was mandatory, I just gritted my teeth and endured the boredom.
Prince Joachim and the other princes must have harbored similar thoughts during their own confirmations, judging by their stifled chuckles at my sleepy-eyed face, on the verge of nodding off.
"Now, kneel for the laying on of hands."
At last, the lengthy Q&A affirming my faith concluded, and the final step of the confirmation rite arrived.
"Lord, send down Your Holy Spirit upon Your servant Hans von Choi. Strengthen his faith and enable him to serve You all his life."
As instructed, I knelt before the bishop, who recited the prayer and anointed my forehead with holy oil using his fingers.
Blasphemous as it might be, I'd seen the bishop sneakily scratching his rear earlier—please, God, let him have washed his hands.
"Let us pray."
With the laying on of hands complete, the bishop, I, and the imperial family all clasped our hands.
"Almighty and eternal God, we thank You for bestowing upon us the gifts of the Holy Spirit through Your great grace."
"..."
"We humbly beseech You to protect these people with Your loving hand, that they may engrave Your word in their hearts, serve the church in thought and deed, and live eternally with You. In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, we pray."
"Amen."
And with that, my confirmation rite was over.
Spiritually, I was now an adult.
Of course, legally, I'd have to wait another seven or eight months.
"Well done, Hans. Now all that's left is Luise's confirmation."
At Kaiser Wilhelm II's words, Luise pulled a reluctant face.
Luise, my contemporary, was scheduled for her confirmation in October.
Her expression made it clear she wasn't thrilled—predicting it'd be boring as hell.
And after watching me slog through mine with a dozy look, that conviction had only strengthened.
"Hans, hurry up! We've got cake waiting!"
"Yes, yes, Your Highness."
As we left the Friedenskirche and headed back to the New Palace, Prince Joachim called out excitedly.
Apparently, in the West, there was a fine custom of celebrating confirmation with cake.
Unable to help smiling wryly at Prince Joachim—who was making more of a fuss than today's star—I followed behind him.
Soon, seated side-by-side at the table with Joachim and Luise, I savored the sweet cake while reflecting on recent events and what lay ahead.
First off, Fritz Haber and Carl Bosch had finally succeeded in commercializing the Haber-Bosch process, with BASF now mass-producing nitrogen fertilizers in earnest.
Thanks to this, Germany's agricultural output was set to trend upward, and Chancellor von Bülow—who'd been wearing a weary expression amid Europe's rising tensions—finally cracked a smile for the first time in ages.
Meanwhile, Amundsen, who conquered the North Pole last year, seemed to have his explorer's fire still blazing hot despite fulfilling a lifelong dream; he was already gearing up to challenge the South Pole next.
One couldn't help but wonder if Amundsen would claim the South Pole too, or if history would shift, letting Britain's Scott plant the Union Jack there.
Scott had reached it first, after all—even if it ended in total annihilation.
A few days ago, on April 27, the Young Turk Party, having lost Constantinople to conservatives, retook the capital and deposed Sultan Abdul Hamid II, finally drawing a close to the Ottoman Empire's long turmoil.
That said, conservatives had massacred Armenians—who had risen in support of the revolution against Abdul Hamid II—turning the empire into another bloodbath.
Of course, it was premature to say the Ottoman Empire's trials were over.
Unless Lady Luck capriciously favored the Ottomans, the Italo-Turkish War loomed in two years, followed by the Balkan Wars the year after.
'Speaking of which, Fokker's grown a layer as an engineer, so it's about time I had him develop synchronization gear.'
When the Great War broke out, planes had virtually no armament.
The most efficient weapon for aerial combat was, naturally, the machine gun—but entrusting it to a rear gunner meant poor accuracy amid the high-speed acrobatics of early aircraft, while mounting one upfront would obviously shred the propeller.
Fitting machine guns to the wings wasn't feasible either, as this era's planes had canvas wings unable to bear the weight.
As a result, early war pilots resorted to absurd mid-air pistol duels, and the British even tried the bizarre idea of "short bursts to lower the odds of hitting the prop."
Anthony Fokker solved this in 1915 with what's commonly called the synchronization gear—or propeller synchronizer.
There are various theories: whether Fokker suddenly channeled divine inspiration to invent it in 48 hours, or analyzed an incomplete synchronizer from Roland Garros's Roland Garros machine obtained from a downed French pilot.
But the academic consensus is that Fokker and his team had been developing it for months before acquiring Garros's device, so with ample time and budget, we could perfect it before the war.
'Plus, next year in 1910, Germany's August Euler files the world's first patent for synchronization tech, so we could get his help too.'
Even if we're ahead, with France and others introducing planes to their militaries and forming air forces, we need to prepare for the coming air wars.
'That said, between world events and the growing sense of war closing in, it's palpable.'
Even as the world wallowed in the Belle Époque's peace.
So let's savor this fleeting peace while it lasts.
Won't get another chance for a while.
I muttered inwardly as I popped more cake into my mouth.
"Minister! Minister Schön!"
"Oh, no...!"
But my modest happiness didn't last long.
The very next day after my confirmation, as I lunched with Minister Schön, a Foreign Office staffer rushed in, pale as a ghost.
By now, it was routine.
"Sigh... What exploded this time? The Balkans? Persia?"
Minister Schön, sensing his fate, clutched his head in despair, so I set down my untouched piece of Schweinshaxe and spoke up.
Looks like lunch was off the table again.
"Huff... huff...! Neither. Breaking news just came from the Far East!"
"The Far East?"
Was there some massive incident in East Asia around now big enough to ruin our lunch?
Ito Hirobumi getting assassinated by Dr. An Jung-geun was all that came to mind—and honestly, that wasn't earth-shattering enough for this panic.
Racking my brain for anything I'd missed, the staffer caught his breath and said,
"A revolution has broken out in China!"
"What? Where?"
Having heard the report, I alternated glances between the staffer and the calendar on the restaurant wall.
Then asked him again.
"Say that slowly one more time. What happened in China?"
"A revolution! Uprisings have erupted across provinces, and revolutionaries have declared a republic!"
"This is insane."
The news was so shocking I couldn't help blurting out my honest reaction, half-suspecting my ears had failed me.
Why the hell did that explode already?
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