Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Demonstration (2)
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"...My God."
What the hell is that monster gun?
Erich Ludendorff gaped in shock, muttering under his breath.
What had just unfolded before his eyes was that shocking and astonishing.
At first, Ludendorff had sighed in relief upon seeing the pathetic appearance of the gun Hans had dubbed a "submachine gun."
He had been tasked by Field Marshal Waldersee to play the devil's advocate, using his expert military knowledge to pressure and undermine Hans. But this Eastern kid was tougher than expected, with a silver tongue like those islanders.
For a moment, Ludendorff wondered if Hans's so-called "new weapon," dismissed as a child's toy, might actually be something extraordinary.
By the time that thought crossed his mind, cold sweat was beading on his forehead—what if things went south?
As Waldersee's irritation grew with the plan derailing, his piercing gaze boring into Ludendorff's back, the submachine gun prototype turned out to be a pipe-like contraption barely worthy of the name "gun."
'Heaven is on my side!'
Ludendorff inwardly cheered.
When the silent Waldersee finally seized the moment to unleash a barrage of criticism on Hans, and Hans seemed at a loss for words, Ludendorff thought the demonstration was already their victory.
But then the damn brat lost his mind and unleashed a burst from the submachine gun into the air.
Right in front of the Kaiser, no less!
Ludendorff was horrified by the insanity, yet electrified by the submachine gun's power.
True to form as the man who would later smash the Russian Imperial Army alongside Hindenburg at Tannenberg, Ludendorff was a capable soldier.
He instantly grasped the revolutionary impact this weapon would have on the battlefield.
The era's prime automatic weapon, the water-cooled machine gun, was powerful but heavy and cumbersome, used mainly for defense.
The submachine gun was different.
It looked lightweight and easy to handle.
Even a child could wield it effortlessly, as Hans had just demonstrated.
'Limited to close range, but it's like every infantryman carrying a machine gun!'
Ludendorff despaired.
With Hans's claims proven true, the demonstration was a defeat for him, Waldersee, and the Junkers.
'My shot at promotion has backfired.'
Ludendorff was ambitious.
He had no intention of remaining a mere staff officer forever.
His goal was the heart of the German Imperial Army—the General Staff—and eventually its pinnacle, Chief of the General Staff.
That's why he suggested to Waldersee, who still wielded massive influence despite stepping down as Chief of Staff, using the demonstration to attack Hans.
He thought his luck was in.
A tip from an acquaintance could ingratiate him with Waldersee and other generals.
Regret over Hans? Ludendorff felt none.
He despised Baron Hans von Choi from the start.
'An arrogant yellow monkey who doesn't know his place.'
Yet the brat soaked up the Kaiser's favor.
Enough to make even Ludendorff jealous.
Ludendorff came from a modest merchant family—not poor, but not wealthy.
His mother was minor nobility, so blue blood ran in his veins, but he held no title and couldn't prepend "von" to his name like true aristocrats.
But Hans von Choi? What made this nobody worthy of a massive inheritance from the Dowager Empress and a barony?
It boiled Ludendorff's blood.
Yet everything had gone to hell, and Baron Hans von Choi had asserted himself once more.
'No, not yet. There's one last chance!'
The Kaiser's reaction.
Firing a gun without a word in the Emperor's presence was beyond lèse-majesté—it could be treason.
The Kaiser he knew would surely erupt in rage.
"Hahaha! The boy's done it again. Gotta give him credit for guts."
"?!"
But nothing of the sort happened.
"Isn't that right, Field Marshal?"
"Urgh... uh-huh..."
Far from anger, the Kaiser seemed pleased with Hans's antics.
Ludendorff, sweating bullets, glanced at the rest of the imperial family.
"Phew, Hans is something else. Even when he's mad, acting so rashly."
"When has he not?"
But the Empress and Crown Prince were the same.
They just sighed it off as typical Hans, showing no real reaction.
Ludendorff despaired once more.
How could the imperial family remain so nonchalant in this absurd situation?
'They're all out of their minds...!'
Was the rumor true—that the damn kid had brainwashed the entire court with some 'mystical Eastern sorcery'?
He gave up thinking.
"B-Baron, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Mr. Schmeisser. Just my arm and shoulder are pretty sore."
I rubbed my throbbing arm from the submachine gun's recoil.
It would've been fine if I were an adult, but a kid's body was frail.
'So why provoke me?'
I could tolerate insults to myself.
But not to my people.
Besides, Waldersee and the Junkers needed silencing.
And the effect was tremendous.
Waldersee and the Junkers gawked, dumbfounded by the submachine gun's power.
Wilhelm II looked inexplicably satisfied.
'Ludendorff... seemed utterly defeated, for some reason.'
I never dreamed I'd encounter Ludendorff here.
One of Germany's most famous generals from World War I, alongside Hindenburg.
But as the war turned against Germany, he effectively ran a military dictatorship, made reckless gambles, and led to defeat.
Postwar, instead of reflecting, he spouted nonsense like the stab-in-the-back myth, aiding the rise of Nazis and Hitler.
Yet his Tannenberg triumph proved his military genius.
To me, he was a total mixed bag.
'Table Ludendorff for now.'
Time to focus on the demonstration.
"Mr. Schmeisser, is everything ready with Hans and the staff?"
"Yes. But is it okay to proceed like this?"
"It's fine. Trust me and stick to the plan."
"Understood, Baron."
Louis Schmeisser nodded and returned to his sons.
Good—he seemed unscathed by Waldersee's words.
Or my outburst had shocked it out of his mind.
Soon, the full submachine gun demo began.
Tat-tat-tat-tang!
Tang! Tat-tat-tang!
"Targets cleared!"
"Los! Los! Los!"
Rather than standard target shooting, it simulated trench and urban warfare mock battles.
My idea, inspired by mock combat drills from my past life's army service.
Far more impressive than mere demos.
And reactions were excellent, as expected.
Tat-tang!
"Objective secured!"
"Waaaaah!"
Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap!
Finally, planting the prepped German flag on the enemy trench amid cheers from Schmeisser and his team marked the end.
The applause and cheers were far more fervent than at the start.
Now, only Wilhelm II and the military's verdict remained.
"Splendid demo, Hans. Worth trusting you."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Field Marshal Waldersee, glad I took your suggestion. Feels like a fine Christmas gift. Ha!"
"...You overpraise."
Waldersee gritted his teeth, bowing with a forced smile.
I smirked at him to twist the knife.
"Guh...!"
Waldersee's face contorted indescribably—whether from rage or delight, who knew.
Serves you right, you old fart.
"Schlieffen, what do you think? To me, the submachine gun is a must-adopt for our army."
"Agreed, Your Majesty."
Schlieffen smiled.
His face looked greedier than when he first heard of it.
"But I hear today's model is just a prototype. Mass adoption will take time."
"Oh? Even that ferocious performance is unfinished?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
I answered for him.
"This submachine gun has many shortcomings. It'll need more time for military adoption."
"Hm. That hideous design does need fixing ASAP. I thought your apocalyptic art sense struck again, Hans."
"Ha... haha..."
"That 'mock battle' demo would be great for actual training too."
"Yes. It'd hone soldiers' skills and combat sense."
"We'll discuss that later."
As I chuckled awkwardly, young officers, impressed, pitched it to Schlieffen.
Waldersee glared at them furiously, but post-humiliation, no one cared.
I could see the old marshal's grim future.
"That ends the demonstration. Good work today, Hans. I'll reward you, the developers, and Bergmann Arsenal staff later."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"An honor, Your Majesty!"
Schmeisser bowed gratefully as Waldersee and generals slunk off with sour faces.
He'd be quiet for a bit after today's embarrassment, but the Junkers wouldn't quit.
They'd attack whenever they could.
'Like Stalin's marshals. Seriously.'
But purging Junkers now was premature—my power was lacking, timing off.
Even allies like Chief of Staff Schlieffen, Chancellor von Bülow, and Reichstag President von Richter were Junkers.
Someday I'd clear them out, but not yet.
For now, raise a victory cup.
Too young for booze, though.
"...And who did you say you are?"
Meanwhile, Princess Margarete stared incredulously at the mysterious man who had barged into Schloss Friedrichshof unannounced.
"I said I'm from America, here to see Baron Hans von Choi. Where is he?"
She shrugged indifferently, but the man parroted his demand like a parrot.
'If you want Hans, go to Potsdam. Why here?'
Since Hans entrusted her with the castle, she'd moved in with family to maintain her mother's old estate. But this was a first.
She looked troubled.
"Sorry, Hans... I mean, the Baron isn't here."
"When will he return?"
"I. Told. You! He doesn't live here!"
The man tilted his head.
"But isn't this the Baron's residence?"
"Yes, but I'm managing it for him due to circumstances. Go to the New Palace in Potsdam if you want him."
"Oh."
He scratched his head sheepishly.
He hadn't known.
"My mistake. The letter from the Baron just said to come to Germany—no address."
Then just reply and ask?
Rushing across the ocean on a whim was bizarre.
"If he's at this New Palace, I'll head there. Sorry for the trouble, ma'am."
"W-Wait. That's the Kaiser's residence. No one enters without permission."
Especially someone screaming "I'm suspicious!" like this guy—he'd be lucky to get booted by guards, not jailed.
"Is that so?"
"Sigh... I'll contact Hans for you. Wait here."
"Thank you."
"Oh, right—what's your name?"
As Margarete turned toward the house with a sigh, she remembered and looked back.
"Tesla."
The man replied with his inscrutable expression.
"Nikola Tesla."