Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: Hello, Mr. President
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"Going to America?"
In the gardens of Sandringham House, where he had been reading a fairy tale book, Albert—the second son of the Prince of Wales, George—looked up at the surprised voice of his sixth cousin, Princess Viktoria Luise.
He wasn't yet fluent in German, so he didn't catch the exact meaning of Luise's words, but at least he recognized the word "America."
'What's going on with America?'
Albert was only seven years old by Korean reckoning, but he knew that Britain was currently in a tough spot with the United States over the Venezuela issue.
He didn't know the details of that mess, though.
"It's almost New Year's, and you're already so busy, Hans. Russia last time, and now America."
"It's not like I'm going for fun. I have work to do."
Prince Joachim, who was like a sixth cousin to Albert just as he was to Viktoria Luise, smirked mischievously and teased. Baron Hans von Choi gave an awkward laugh in response.
"What? I thought we'd spend this New Year's together too."
Luise seemed displeased that the baron was going to America, puffing out her cheeks.
"More than that, I want to go to America too!"
No, it seemed she just didn't like the idea of the baron going alone.
Unlike the shy Albert, his cousin Luise loved being the center of attention and was incredibly stubborn.
His father often said that her personality took after Uncle Billy—his father's cousin.
"Maybe when you're older, Princess, we can go together."
"Really? You promised, Hans!"
But at the baron's follow-up words, Luise's frown vanished as if it had never been there, replaced by a bright smile.
Getting angry one moment and happy the next.
Albert, whose only sister was a baby who could barely talk yet, tilted his head in confusion at his sixth cousin's baffling behavior.
Just recently, his brother David had teased Luise about liking the baron, only to get kicked in the shin by her face turning tomato-red with anger. Girls' emotions were truly incomprehensible.
But the baron was an even more mysterious figure than his cousin's unpredictable feelings, at least from a child's perspective.
'He's a good person, at least.'
The baron was one of the few who treated him kindly without mocking his stutter like other kids his age.
His brother David had apparently taken a real dislike to the baron after getting chewed out by their father last time, muttering something about the "yellow mongrel making a fool of himself." But Albert liked the baron.
The baron always told him, Joachim, and Luise the most fascinating new stories.
Rumor had it the baron was smart enough to impress adults, and knowing so many stories seemed proof enough.
'I wish he'd stay at Sandringham forever.'
Albert inwardly wished it, but that was impossible.
The baron lived with Uncle Billy—his father's cousin—so he'd soon return to Germany with his sixth cousins.
"St-st-still, s-s-someday wh-wh-when the ch-ch-chance comes... w-w-we'll meet again."
Prince Albert—the boy who would one day brilliantly lead Britain through World War II as King George VI—gave a small smile and murmured to himself.
"Germany's sending a special envoy?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"Damn, they're quick on the draw."
President Theodore Roosevelt loosened his tie, his throat tight from the aide's report, and grumbled sarcastically.
He too had been frustrated by the German Empire's deliberate foot-dragging, just like Britain.
"What a headache these lobster-brained idiots are causing."
Of course, the U.S. Navy's own failure to investigate properly and blindly accepting Britain's blunder wasn't blameless.
But when your own kid does wrong, it always looks less rotten than the neighbor's, right?
"Who could've known Dreadnought was such a dangerous toy?"
Anyone except the Germans who built it, that is.
Roosevelt gulped down the water in his cup, his throat burning at the thought.
It wasn't very presidential, but for this cowboy embodying the American spirit, it didn't matter.
"Thanks to them, old Dewey ripped me a new one."
"Oh, he was terrifying back then."
Roosevelt's aide shuddered at the memory.
Admiral Dewey had stormed into the White House upon returning from Venezuela, grabbed Roosevelt by the collar, and unleashed a torrent of curses and rage.
'If the Germans had that monster, you should've warned us, Teddy, you son of a bitch!'
Even the hot-tempered Roosevelt had no comeback; it was spot on.
If Dewey hadn't wisely withdrawn without engaging the European fleet, the U.S. Navy would've been in deep trouble.
'I'd be the idiot who wasted the fleet for nothing, packing my bags out of the White House by now.'
The British PM was catching hell from public opinion for dismissing Dreadnought, but thankfully, Roosevelt hadn't faced that level of backlash.
That's why he'd gifted Dewey his favorite whiskey despite the admiral's rudeness.
Of course, the criticism wasn't zero.
The opposition and public were still hammering why send the fleet to Venezuela if they weren't even going to fire a shot.
Americans' pride and self-esteem were at least as strong as Europeans', if not more.
But once the true power of Germany's new battleship came to light, the political attacks eased a bit.
No one could've predicted that thing popping up, after all—Roosevelt's defense was irrefutable.
And thanks to Dewey's quick thinking, America had suffered no real losses.
The damn press like Hearst was still yapping, though.
With plans for more than one term, Roosevelt needed something to shut up the media and calm the outrage.
The Venezuela peace talks with the European powers fit perfectly as that change.
America leading the mediation would at least save face.
"At least Castro listened for once."
In retaliation for Britain's, Germany's, and Italy's naval blockade and shelling of Venezuelan ports, Castro had arrested Europeans and fanned the flames—but he'd buckled under U.S. pressure.
Local thugs are scarier than distant gangsters, after all.
Venezuela had agreed to U.S. mediation.
Roosevelt didn't trust Castro, though, so he'd "notified" them that Ambassador Bowen would negotiate on their behalf.
Britain, singed by Dreadnought, was very positive about U.S. mediation too.
Germany, however, refused.
They dragged their feet like they were toying with people's hearts.
It was a far cry from the arrogant German diplomacy Roosevelt knew.
And after days of Roosevelt sweating over Germany's moves, they finally responded via their U.S. ambassador.
They'd send a special envoy informally to negotiate terms to end the Venezuela crisis.
"They're obviously planning to squeeze every last drop out of Venezuela while they can."
Like most-favored-nation status, say.
Of course, Theodore Roosevelt had zero intention of allowing that.
It'd be tantamount to abandoning the Monroe Doctrine.
Even short of that, he couldn't give Germany everything they wanted.
To salvage America's dignity, he'd have to whittle down their demands as much as possible.
"By the way, who’s this German envoy?"
"Some baron... give me a moment."
"A baron?"
Junker scum.
As his aide rummaged through papers, Roosevelt scowled.
A freedom-loving true American—and progressive for the era—Roosevelt didn't care for Junkers.
They were arrogant, inflexible old fogeys with heads full of war.
"Ah, here it is. Baron Hans von Choi."
"Hans von Choi?"
But when his aide finally found the name, Roosevelt was surprised for a different reason.
Hans von Choi.
The boy who saved the Kaiser, and author of Immortal Admiral Yi, which Roosevelt had been enjoying lately.
"But he's still a kid. Sending a child as envoy? Makes you wonder if the German government's all there."
"Surprisingly, the baron has quite the reputation in diplomatic circles. Rumor is, he made the Qing emperor kowtow before the Kaiser two years ago."
"Really?"
Roosevelt stroked his chin with interest.
Then he asked his aide.
"When's he due to arrive?"
"Probably not till after the new year, time-wise."
"Hm."
Roosevelt glanced out the window at his aide's words.
Somehow, things were getting interesting.
And just as the aide had said, after the tumultuous 1902 ended and 1903 arrived...
Baron Hans von Choi finally set foot in America.
January 1903, Baltimore Harbor.
I gripped the railing, barely keeping my trembling body upright.
I'd completely forgotten.
The Atlantic was far bigger than the Baltic Sea, and I got seasick like nobody's business.
"Are you alright, Baron?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just need to catch my breath, and I'll be good."
I leaned against the railing as I replied to the concerned bodyguard.
The others gave me strange looks, descending the passenger liner one by one.
"Baron, the President of the United States is waiting below."
As I pulled myself together, the bodyguard whispered.
Sure enough, looking down, there was Theodore Roosevelt—straight out of photos, movies, and museum exhibits—pacing like a rabbit in the cold, white breath puffing from his mouth, impatient as I delayed disembarking.
'The President himself coming to the harbor to greet me.'
He must be really eager.
Or just short-tempered.
Either way, given Roosevelt's anecdotes and personality, it wasn't that shocking.
"Whew. Wanted a bit more rest, but no helping it. Can't keep His Excellency waiting."
I straightened my disheveled tie and stepped off the liner.
Roosevelt spotted me instantly, his face lighting up with a broad grin.
Not recognizing me would've been weirder.
With my skin color and age, few in the 20th-century West stood out like I did.
"Baron Hans von Choi. Tough journey from afar. Welcome to America!"
"The honor is mine to meet President Roosevelt, whose fame echoes across Europe."
We clasped hands, beaming smiles at each other.
To onlookers, it might've looked like we were fast friends.
But behind those smiles lurked curiosity, wariness toward each other...
And the ruthless faces of diplomats scheming to exploit the other for their nation's gain.