Chapter 194: The Reception
"My dear, what are you daydreaming about?" Empress Carlota's voice broke Maximilian I out of his reverie.
"Oh, it's nothing. I was just lost in some thoughts," Maximilian I said, as though waking from a dream.
Empress Carlota eyed him with concern. "You're not still pining over Mexico, are you?" She recalled the rage in his voice earlier when he mentioned Mexico.
Back then, it was indeed Empress Carlota who had encouraged Maximilian I to go to Mexico, and that venture shattered her dreams of being empress. She still remembered those terrifying days and nights, filled with nightmares of being tortured to death by Mexican insurgents.
Maximilian I clasped Carlota's hand, comforting her. "No need to worry. We'll never go back to that place. Actually, I was just thinking about East Africa—wondering what suggestions I might offer Prince Constantin later. After all, our daughter is poised to become the lady of East Africa one day."
…
Inside the brewery:
"For Emperor Maximilian I to personally welcome someone, that person's no small figure. You think it might be Prince Constantin or His Highness, the Prince, coming to East Africa?" Müller asked Schultze.
"Who can say? Just now, our boss said the city government announced partial lockdown today because some VIP is docking in Dar es Salaam, but they didn't specify who. Still, anyone important enough for Emperor Maximilian I to greet personally is likely royalty," Schultze replied.
…
On the Ping'an:
"My lord, we may disembark now. The East African authorities have prepared a reception," Keno reported, entering Prince Constantin's study.
"Oh? Got it."
Prince Constantin put aside his book and stretched, saying, "That month at sea was pure torment. Finally, I can set foot on land again."
"My lord, you and the young master weren't saying that before," Keno teased.
"Heh, you know how stubborn old men can be. I was only boasting. Naturally, I can't match those younger folks physically," Prince Constantin said. "All right, see that my belongings are in order. We're heading off."
"Yes, sir," Keno replied respectfully.
Prince Constantin stepped out of his study, greeted at once by his head of security, Anderson.
"Your Highness!" Anderson saluted.
Constantin gave his orders: "Let's go."
The ship's passengers waved to the waiting staff ashore.
"Musicians, ready!"
A German orchestral piece with exotic undertones began to play, accompanied by the sounds of Arabian instruments mixed with European ones. It was quite bizarre. Though the local populace and officials in East Africa didn't find it bad, Prince Constantin, along with the couple who came to greet him—Maximilian I and Empress Carlota—could barely keep a straight face. This was…something else?
Maximilian I turned a puzzled look toward the Dar es Salaam officials standing beside him.
Mayor Martin, an Austrian, explained: "Your Highness the Archduke, you know the East African colony is still new and lacks musical development. We have neither trained musicians nor the right equipment, so we borrowed some instruments and players from the Zanzibar Sultanate to stage this welcome ceremony."
Used to referring to Maximilian as "Archduke Ferdinand," Martin adhered to Austrian style.
"But you can't muster even a single proper band? I can hear that those playing European instruments aren't exactly professionals," Maximilian I observed.
"Your Highness, as you might guess, East Africa's population is large but scattered over a vast territory. Dar es Salaam is mainly a transient stop for immigrants, and its permanent population is only a few tens of thousands. Most immigrants have minimal education, let alone training in music. It's not that East Africa can't possibly form a band—there must be a few musicians among so many people. But Dar es Salaam just doesn't have enough. We learned only a few days ago that Prince Constantin would arrive here, but searching all of Dar es Salaam turned up barely a handful of musicians.
"You see those few people over there playing German instruments? We recruited them from among local military officers and government officials. Some had contact with musical instruments when they studied in the Heixingen Military Academy or belonged to a few fallen noble families."
At the Heixingen Military Academy, there was no formal music class, but some cultural instructors possessed a bit of musical know-how, which rubbed off on a handful of students. Others, perhaps from once-noble lineages, also had some exposure to music. Yet such individuals formed only a tiny fraction, and once you spread them across all of East Africa, they were all but invisible.
Similarly, many of the region's administrative positions were filled by down-on-their-luck Austrian nobles who had become managers for the Heixingen Consortium. East Africa needed literate, cultured staff to run its massive territory—people who could handle paperwork, run calculations, and so on. Prussia's widespread adoption of basic education left many soldiers able to write a bit of German for letters home, but that was about it, and most had little use for mathematics beyond the basics. Meanwhile, in Prussia, there were ample routes for nobles to climb—like the army, or establishing industries through family resources. Very few ended up idle. However, in Austria-Hungary, the old empire was too cumbersome, and the Habsburg government mostly "patched" issues instead of fully reforming. Larger reforms got snagged by conservative Hungarian officials who clung to aristocratic privileges.
Hence, the Heixingen Consortium recruited staff from these neglected Austrian nobles. They weren't run-of-the-mill folks, either—at least a secondary-school education was needed, something that set them above the majority in this era. This largely explained why numerous Austrian noble descendants ended up administering East Africa, the Heixingen Consortium's resource base.
"Huh, what a dreadful welcome ceremony. Who knows if Prince Constantin will be pleased, but I'm surely not. Sometime later, I'm going to let Ernst know he mustn't neglect cultural education here," Maximilian I declared.
Standing off to the side, Martin feigned deafness. He knew better than to chime in. Maximilian was a major figure—the father of Ernst's fiancée—so Martin wasn't about to meddle.
At that moment, Prince Constantin found himself bewildered: what was this awful performance? He wasn't exactly a connoisseur, but he did have some basic musical discernment from his family background, and this… The rhythm was off, the entire thing was painful to hear.
Just then, Maximilian I stepped forward to smooth things over. "Your Highness the Prince, you've finally arrived in East Africa!"
"Are you Archduke Ferdinand?" Constantin asked, uncertain. He had met Maximilian I long ago, back when Austria-Hungary was still the Austrian Empire and Maximilian I a much younger man. Later, while negotiating a marriage alliance with the Habsburgs, Maximilian I had been off in Mexico. They never crossed paths. Now, this was their second meeting, but the changes were striking. Time had altered Maximilian's appearance, and his personality, too, was different—gone was the brash confidence of youth, replaced by a steadier maturity.
Nor did Constantin address him as "emperor," calling him instead "Archduke Ferdinand." One doesn't speak ill of others or poke at their sore spots. Mexico was a lasting wound for Maximilian.
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