Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Edward VII's Invitation
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"So, we've reached an agreement with Britain to impose a naval blockade on Venezuela by the end of the year?"
"Mm. Yeah."
Wilhelm II, who was enjoying lunch with me, nodded as he sliced into the thick slab of meat on his plate.
Despite the clear signs that Germany and Britain were gearing up for military action, Cipriano Castro and the Venezuelan government showed no sign of changing their stance.
Venezuela was still suffering real-time losses among German and British nationals due to the ongoing clashes between government forces and rebels, yet they refused to take any of the measures demanded by the German and British governments.
No, it wasn't an overstatement to say they were deliberately sitting on their hands.
With Venezuela showing no willingness to negotiate despite Germany's and Britain's hardline attitudes, Chancellor von Bülow—along with Arthur Balfour, who had recently replaced the resigned Marquess of Salisbury as Britain's new prime minister—decided to join forces and draw their swords against Venezuela.
But what truly surprised me was what Wilhelm II said next.
"Tubby Édouard—or rather, Uncle Edward—has invited me to Britain."
"His Majesty Edward, you say?"
"He wants to finalize the details on the Venezuela issue officially, and while we're at it, come visit Sandringham with the kids after so long. That includes you, Hans."
Sandringham.
It was the location of Sandringham House, the British royal family's country house that Queen Victoria had purchased for Edward VII and his wife.
From what I knew, Edward VII had turned it into England's finest hunting ground while redecorating the place.
It was so very like Edward VII.
"Come to think of it, Your Majesty's cousin, the Prince of Wales, resides at Sandringham as well."
"Ah, you mean George. Yeah. He's living that dull life there, collecting stamps and all."
The Prince of Wales.
As everyone knows, it was the title bestowed upon the British heir apparent, and the current holder was Edward VII's second son, the future George V.
George V loved Sandringham House so much that he called it "my dear old Sandringham, which I love and cherish more than any place in the world."
That's why even before becoming Prince of Wales, back when he was Duke of York, he lived in York Cottage, the modest annex to Sandringham House. Unlike his outgoing and sociable father, George V preferred a simple, quiet rural life away from high society.
Of course, while this monotonous life suited George V just fine, it struck Britain's upper crust—who came to visit him—as utterly boring. As a result, York Cottage earned the nickname in high society of "that glum little villa."
It was a perfect glimpse into how his personality contrasted with his father's.
"It's been a while since I last saw that guy's face. At least it'll be better than staring at Uncle's greasy mug all the time."
Unlike his detestable Uncle Edward VII, Wilhelm II had a decent relationship with his cousin George V, muttering as much.
Though in truth, George V was even closer to his first cousin Nicholas II, who looked so much like him they could pass for twins.
"So, when do you plan to visit Britain?"
"November seems about right. Since we're starting the naval blockade in December next month."
Britain, huh.
I'd figured I'd end up going there someday, but I never dreamed it'd be this soon.
'First the trip to Russia, and now I'm heading abroad again.'
Honestly, Russia had been exhausting.
Not just the weight of my responsibilities, but rubbing elbows with the Tsar and the Russian nobility hadn't been easy.
Still, this time it's more like a family vacation, so I can relax. Right?
"Come on in, Billy!"
Summer had ended with all its chaos, a brief autumn had passed, and winter had returned.
I set foot on British soil alongside Wilhelm II and the imperial family, just as he had foretold.
Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to take in the snow-covered London I'd always wanted to see in my previous life.
Upon arriving at Dover Port, our party immediately boarded a special train prepared by the British royals and headed straight for Sandringham.
Too bad, but there'd be another chance next time.
Sandringham House turned out to be a classic English aristocratic manor.
As we stepped down from the carriage into the biting winter wind, Edward VII—dressed in a nobleman's robe straight out of a comic about rich folks—greeted us alongside the more neatly attired Queen Alexandra of Denmark.
Their outfits were so mismatched it bordered on comical, so Joachim, Luise, and I—who were huddled together in thick coats against the cold—couldn't help letting out a small chuckle.
"Come on, it's cold out here. Get inside."
"Ahem. Then we won't stand on ceremony."
Probably eager to warm up by the fireplace, Wilhelm II said that to his uncle and promptly headed into the manor.
Joachim, Luise, and I scurried after him.
"Ah! George. There you are."
"Billy."
As the servants led us to the drawing room, there stood George V, who looked exactly like Nicholas II—or rather, the Tsar.
'Whoa. They really do look identical.'
I'd seen photos in my past life, but seeing George V in person, no one would've batted an eye if someone called them twins.
I almost slipped and called him "Your Majesty."
"Long time no see, Wilhelm. Dona."
"Ah, Mary."
At that moment, a woman stepped out from behind George V, prompting Wilhelm II and the Augusta Empress to greet her warmly, as if she were an old acquaintance.
Mary of Teck, wife of the Prince of Wales.
George V's spouse and mother to brothers Edward VIII and George VI. She had been a steadfast pillar of the royal family, supporting her husband admirably.
She'd even lived long enough to witness her granddaughter Elizabeth II's coronation.
"I've heard the news. You're due next month?"
The Augusta Empress remarked, eyeing Mary of Teck's belly, swollen like a full moon.
And sure enough, she was pregnant.
'Timing-wise, that'd be George V's fourth son, the Duke of Kent.'
He was infamous for his scandalous private life—running so wild that even Edward VIII, who abdicated for love, looked tame by comparison.
The list of women he'd been with was endless: Florence Mills, the "Queen of Jazz" and Black American singer; Poppy Baring, heiress to Baring Bank; Margaret Campbell, Duchess of Argyll; Jessie Matthews, British musical star... and that was just scratching the surface.
Not content with that, he was bisexual too, cavorting with men like Noël Coward, the British actor and playwright, among many others.
And as if that weren't enough, he was a drug addict hooked on cocaine and morphine. That's why the Duke of Kent never appeared on TV or in movies with his brothers.
In the British royal family, he was treated as worse than a black mark on history—on par with that unnamed wizard from a certain famous British magic novel you weren't supposed to say aloud.
'Hard to believe that epochal playboy is in there.'
"Hm? Who's this? I don't think we've met."
While I was lost in worldly astonishment, George V noticed me and spoke up.
I snapped to attention and bowed to the princely couple.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Baron Hans Choi."
"Ah. I've heard all about you."
George V nodded, clearly already familiar with me.
At this point, it'd be weirder if he hadn't.
Still, his demeanor was worlds apart from how Edward VII treated me.
How to put it? Edward VII was this lively, entertaining uncle just to look at, but George V had this heavy, somber aura from the get-go.
"George. How have the kids been?"
"Same as always. Oh, right—time for introductions."
At Wilhelm II's words, George V looked upward.
"David! Albert!"
George V bellowed like a drill sergeant, and soon thumps and bangs echoed from upstairs as two boys, both looking younger than me, came rushing down.
'The taller one's Edward VIII, the shorter one's George VI.'
Of course, they weren't kings yet—just David and Albert.
The brothers had apparently hurried down at their father's call, their clothes disheveled in places. George V, displeased by the sight, barked at his sons again.
"Is that any way for princes of England to present themselves? Get it together!"
"S-S-Sorry, Father."
Unlike his older brother, who would later abandon his royal duties to marry a divorcée, Albert—future George VI, who brilliantly led Britain through the crises of World War II—cowered and stammered in fear of his father.
"He calls me out of nowhere and then—"
"What?"
"N-Nothing."
David, the future Edward VIII, on the other hand, pouted sullenly, clearly annoyed by his father's shouting.
It was a stark illustration of the brothers' personality differences.
"David, how many times have I told you not to act cheeky in front of adults...!"
"That's enough, George. Why are you always yelling at the kids?"
George V was about to chew out David again when his father, Edward VII, intervened, forcing him to back down reluctantly.
Edward VII had vowed not to become like his mother, Queen Victoria—who doted on his sister Victoria Adelaide but was harsh with him—so he wasn't overly strict with his own children.
But George V took the opposite approach, being exceedingly stern with his.
That said, he wasn't abusive or devoid of affection.
The issue stemmed from his own youth spent in the navy, which led him to raise his children like recruits in boot camp.
As a result, Edward VIII ended up with the notoriously bad relationship with his father everyone knows about, while George VI grew timid and developed a severe stammer that plagued him into adulthood.
It was the polar opposite of Nicholas II—whose face was a dead ringer for George V's and who was warm and family-oriented with his own children.
"Tch. Go on and greet Wilhelm and his family properly."
George V clicked his tongue and prodded his sons.
Only then did David and Albert seem to notice Wilhelm II, bowing their heads in greeting.
"Hello, Uncle Billy."
"H-H-Hello."
"Good to see you boys looking healthy."
Wilhelm II patted his fifth cousins' heads with a kind expression.
That's when David glanced my way and tilted his head.
"Who's that chinky... Ow!"
"David!!"
No surprise he was a known racist who chummed it up with Hitler in the original history—he hurled the C-word at me without hesitation.
Just as the mood was about to freeze over, George V flushed red and smacked David on the head.
Hm... Served him right?
"My apologies, Baron. On behalf of my son."
"It's fine. It happens."
I wasn't mad. Not mad at all.
I'm not the type to get hurt over some kid's words.
Besides, that kind of reaction was par for the course in this era.
If anything, hearing "chinky" after so long felt kinda nostalgic.
Of course, everyone else's reactions were nothing like mine.
"That brat David. He needs to learn when to speak and when to shut up!"
"Hans, you okay?"
"I'm fine. Totally fine."
"Don't mind what David said, Hans. He's too young to know better."
While soothing Joachim and Luise—who were more worked up than me—Edward VII turned to me and said that.
No, really, I'm not bothered. Geez.
"Ah, Hans. Speaking of which, there's something I need to tell you. Let's talk over there for a bit. You too, Billy."
As George V continued scolding and lecturing his son, Edward VII led me and the Kaiser to the next room.
Fine for Wilhelm II, but why me?
Something felt off.
"What is it, Uncle?"
Wilhelm II asked curtly, and Edward VII pulled a photograph from his pocket with a grave expression.
"Billy, this is a photo sent by one of our men dispatched to Venezuela while you were crossing the North Sea."
"A photo?"
What kind of photo would make Edward VII this serious?
Wilhelm II and I took it from him and peered closely.
And both the Kaiser and I frowned at once.
Wilhelm II spoke first.
"Isn't this a warship?"
Sure enough, the black-and-white image clearly showed a sizable warship docked at a port.
The problem? It was taken in Venezuela, and the Venezuelan navy didn't possess vessels of that class.
"The Americans have supplied warships to Venezuela."
"Pardon?"
I blurted out the question to Edward VII before I could stop myself.
The Americans gave Venezuela what, now?