Chapter 98: A Journey
Maximilian I, now idling away his days in East Africa, was not one to sit still for long. Having grown bored of his monotonous life in Mombasa, he began planning a tour of East Africa.
Meanwhile in Europe, Maximilian's family, informed of his whereabouts through Ernst, had considered calling him back. But Maximilian, as stubborn as they come, wasn't budging—nothing short of ten oxen could drag him home.
His mental state was likely similar to that of Xiang Yu before his suicide at Wu River—ashamed to face those back home.
He had defied all warnings, gone to Mexico against his entire family's wishes to fulfill his ambitions, and ended up in chains.
Determined now, Maximilian resolved to spend three to five years in East Africa, long enough for people to forget his disgrace before returning to Austria-Hungary.
Were it not for the emotional ties, he would gladly spend the rest of his life in East Africa. But Maximilian was a devoted son. Though stubborn, he didn't want to break his aging mother's heart. Eventually, he would have to return to visit her.
Despite feeling defeated by his failure, Maximilian had written several letters to his mother since arriving in East Africa, assuring her of his safety.
To others—his brother, father—he conveyed greetings through Empress Dowager Sophie.
His beloved daughter couldn't be with him for now. He had left her in Austria when he departed for Mexico, fearing that the country's volatile conditions would be too much for a child.
He entrusted her to Sophie's care, knowing Austria offered the best environment and education.
Now in exile in East Africa, he could hardly ask for more.
Meanwhile, Empress Carlota, who had sought help across Europe, was preparing to reunite with Maximilian in East Africa after learning he had survived.
Previously, she had been furious to hear that Empress Dowager Sophie had arranged an engagement for their daughter without consulting her or Maximilian.
Regardless of the fiancé's identity, as parents, they believed their daughter's fate was their decision.
Though hers had been a political marriage too, Carlota—then Princess Charlotte of Belgium—had fallen in love with the unremarkable Maximilian at first sight.
Belgium's royal family was not insignificant in Europe, well matched with the Habsburgs. Their union had faced little resistance and was seen as an ideal marriage at the time.
Their relationship had been strong—perhaps too idealistic—which is how they fell into the political quagmire of Mexico.
After learning that her future son-in-law had personally orchestrated Maximilian's rescue, Carlota's impression of Ernst greatly improved.
Anyone capable of organizing a cross-continental mission to extract someone from the clutches of a foreign government clearly had remarkable skills.
And that kind of political sensitivity (actually divine foresight) was what saved Maximilian in time—any earlier or later, and it might have failed.
Snatching a man of Maximilian's stature from a sovereign country like Mexico—especially in an era where there were so few independent nations—required courage, intelligence, and responsibility.
Since Ernst was willing to risk offending the Mexican government (though the Mexicans still had no idea), Carlota believed he would surely treat her daughter well.
Eager to reunite, Carlota was not deterred by Africa's supposedly harsh conditions.
After all, Mexico, like East Africa, was a tropical highland. Having lived through Mexico, she wasn't worried about East Africa.
...
Tanga Port.
Inside the Tanga sisal processing plant, machines roared.
Maximilian I watched curiously as he mimicked workers, standing at the machine's output line to organize the separated sisal fibers.
"This must be the largest factory in East Africa, right?" Maximilian asked the plant manager.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the manager replied. "Right now, sisal processing is one of the few machine-based industries in East Africa. With plantation expansion, the industry's future looks very promising."
"How about the workers' pay? How long are their shifts?" Maximilian asked.
"Well, Your Majesty, most of our laborers are immigrants from the Far East, where labor is cheap, so the wages aren't high—almost nonexistent.
Work hours range from six to ten hours per day," the manager answered truthfully.
He wasn't being overly kind—it was just that raw sisal supply was tight (the harvest hadn't come in yet), and Mwanza's coal mine wasn't operational, meaning fuel still had to be imported from Europe.
So the energy supply for the machines wasn't very stable.
Soon, however, East Africa's first local sisal harvest would be ready.
With the development of the Mwanza coal mine, the Tanga plant would operate at full capacity.
Unaware of these operational details, Maximilian continued, "It all looks fine. But most workers here are Chinese? Weren't there also immigrants from Austria-Hungary? I saw many of them in Mombasa—why so few in this factory?"
The manager internally rolled his eyes.
With these conditions, how could they possibly fool Austro-Hungarian migrants?
Many of them had seen factory work before—none would accept the pittance paid here.
"Austro-Hungarian immigrants are mostly from farming backgrounds. They're not very interested in industry, so most prefer to continue farming," the manager explained.
"Ah, that's a pity. Industry is the symbol of modern civilization. All of Europe is developing industry now—East Africa mustn't neglect it," Maximilian sighed.
"Your Majesty, you're right. But His Highness Prince Ernst also values industrialization highly.
East Africa, though, is a land of absolute poverty—it didn't even have agriculture before.
Without a solid agricultural foundation, you can't build industry.
For example, this sisal plant only exists because of sisal plantations.
Without plantations, the factory would have no purpose and no future.
So we must first establish agriculture. Only then can industry follow," the manager replied respectfully.
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