Spring slipped quietly into summer. The Crown Prince and other royal children departed for the Prinzenhaus, a royal villa in Schleswig-Holstein, to continue their studies. Only Wilhelm II, Empress Auguste Viktoria, and their youngest children, Joachim and Viktoria Luise, remained at the New Palace in Potsdam.
[French Catholic and Conservative Forces Continue to Oppose Dreyfus Retrial! Furious President Loubet Moves to Expel the Jesuits!]
Meanwhile, France remained ablaze with its internal "game of fire." Émile Loubet, yielding to public demand, pressed forward with the retrial of the Dreyfus case. To quell the chaos, it seemed there was no alternative.
Yet Loubet's actions were more radical than Hans had anticipated. The president appeared intent on using the Dreyfus retrial to dismantle France's far-right Catholic factions, accelerating his secularization policies by a full four years compared to the original timeline. Turning crisis into opportunity, he charged ahead boldly.
But speed was not always the answer. Loubet's aggressive moves only united French Catholics and conservatives, plunging the Third Republic into political strife. Though Loubet, a capable statesman, would eventually resolve these issues, Hans doubted it would conclude within two or three years.
[Mr. Hans Jo, Captain Dreyfus Extends His Gratitude to You!]
As Loubet pushed for the retrial, Dreyfus' exoneration seemed imminent. The captain even sent Hans a personal letter of thanks. Though Hans had not acted for Dreyfus' sake, a pang of guilt stirred within him. In essence, he had exploited Dreyfus to throw his own homeland into chaos.
"Dreyfus went on to fight in the Great War, didn't he?"
After enduring such injustice, the man still served his nation. If it were Hans, he would have emigrated from that heartbroken land out of sheer disgust long ago. Dreyfus was truly remarkable.
"This is why I despise war."
Hans took no pleasure in this. War brought only suffering and ruin. Yet as long as the great powers clung to their imperial ambitions, the First World War remained inevitable. Thus, Hans had no choice but to ensure the German Empire's victory at all costs.
For if Germany were defeated, Wilhelm II and his family would face annihilation.
Historically, Wilhelm II was exiled to the Netherlands, while the Crown Prince and other princes joined far-right organizations like the Stahlhelm to restore the monarchy, only to be betrayed during the Night of the Long Knives by Hitler, meeting tragic ends.
Ah, except for Prince August Wilhelm. The only fervent Nazi among Wilhelm II's children, he deserved condemnation, not defense. If he followed the same path in this world, Hans would show no mercy.
"And let's not forget Joachim's suicide."
After the German Empire's collapse, Prince Joachim, unable to adapt to the new reality, took his own life. Empress Auguste Viktoria, shattered by her son's death, succumbed to grief and passed away shortly after.
"I refuse to let that future repeat itself."
In this life, the Kaiser's family had come to regard Hans as one of their own. Though he'd initially kept his distance, human emotion proved inescapable. Now, he vowed to spare them their historical fates—another reason the German Empire must survive.
[German Imperial Navy's Mysterious New Battleship Stirs Global Attention!]
Meanwhile, the Dreadnought project surged forward, though debates over its name persisted. "Furchtlos" ("Fearless") was rejected—German tradition demanded names tied to geography or historical figures.
As time passed, the Navy's ambitions for this battleship grew. Even more striking was their uncharacteristic openness to foreign technology—a move that left rival powers like Britain bewildered. Had the Germans lost their minds?
For Hans and the Empire, this was promising. Yet unease lingered.
"I just hope they don't mess this up."
Though the battleship's performance had been proven in the original timeline, human factors could still derail its design. Who could guarantee they wouldn't botch it into some grotesque aberration?
Don't fail. Please.
[Guglielmo Marconi Achieves Transatlantic Wireless Communication!]
Amid Hans' anxieties, an intriguing development occurred the prior month: wireless communication.
This technology held incalculable value, and Hans was determined to seize it first. While its military applications were vast, Hans fixated on radio broadcasting—the sole mass medium before television's rise. Controlling it meant shaping public opinion, an irresistible tool.
"Speaking of which, Reginald Fessenden's breakthrough in wireless voice transmission supposedly happened this year."
Though Hans couldn't recall the exact date—likely December—Fessenden's first radio broadcast in 1906 loomed. With funding, perhaps it could be accelerated.
But Hans lacked funds. The palace's miserly steward gave him no allowance—not that he needed one. His lifestyle now rivaled Europe's elite. Still, personal reserves offered security. And with a child's body, business ventures were impossible. His gaze turned elsewhere.
["The Hound of the Baskervilles"]
After killing Sherlock Holmes at Reichenbach Falls, Arthur Conan Doyle revived him under pressure from readers and his mother, spawning the third Holmes novel. Hans, a educated time traveler fluent in English, had subscribed to the original serial out of fandom. Now, inspiration struck: Why not write his own serialized fiction?
Germany, one of Europe's most literate nations, thrived on newspapers. Berlin, the "City of Newspapers," teemed with weeklies featuring serialized novels—far more popular than dry political commentary. Hans had no aspirations as an author but saw an avenue for income and influence.
To his surprise, the gamble paid off spectacularly.
[New Historical Novel The Ming Voyager Serialized in Berliner Morgenpost Captivates Readers!]
A passion project blending Ming dynasty admirals like Zheng He and Qi Jiguang with mystery, adventure, and war, the novel—penned by a Ming enthusiast wielding modern storytelling—proved irresistible. Hans earned hefty royalties and fan mail praising its "idealized Prussian military protagonist." Of course militarism-stoked readers would fixate on that, he mused.
Even overseas letters arrived, unnerving Hans. How did regional paper reach them?
For now, Hans savored his quiet, profitable routine. If only it could last.
"Hans, something terrible has happened!"
But this was the turbulent dawn of the 20th century—peaceful days were a luxury.
"Grandmother Vicky is dying!"
---
Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa.
Princess Royal of Britain, Empress Consort to German Emperor Friedrich III, and birth mother of Wilhelm II. Her passing, coming shortly after Queen Victoria's funeral, had long been anticipated. Yet the suddenness of its arrival still shocked.
"Hurry, children. It's a long journey to Kronberg."
As maids hurriedly packed luggage, Empress Auguste Viktoria ushered Hans, Joachim, and Viktoria Luise. After Wilhelm II's accession, the Dowager Empress Victoria had retired to Friedrichshof Palace—a estate named for her late husband—in the town of Kronberg near Frankfurt.
"Mother, isn't Father coming with us?"
"He will join us later, Joachim," the Empress replied. Wilhelm II was occupied with state affairs in Königsberg, East Prussia—too distant to reach Kronberg before them. The Crown Prince and other princes, still in Schleswig-Holstein, faced the same predicament.
"Your Majesty, all preparations are complete."
"Then let us depart. Hans, you too."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The group followed Empress Auguste Viktoria into the royal carriages—merely the first leg of their journey. From Potsdam, they would board a train to Frankfurt, then transfer to carriages bound for Friedrichshof.
"Forward."
At the Empress' command, the carriages raced toward Potsdam Station.
---
Potsdam Station
Upon arrival, police escorted the royal party through the station's bustling hall. A portly middle-aged stationmaster rushed over, bowing deeply.
"Your Majesty, it is an honor to receive you…"
"Formalities can wait. Is the special train to Frankfurt ready?"
"Y-yes! Right this way."
Led by the stationmaster, the group reached the platform, where a retro-styled steam locomotive of the era awaited.
"When do we depart?"
"In approximately 15 minutes."
"Understood. Let's go, children."
Hans, Joachim, and Viktoria Luise boarded the train—a lavish carriage reserved for royalty and elites. The irony wasn't lost on Hans: in his past life, he'd never experienced first-class luxury; now, he reveled in it.
They settled into plush seats as servants outside hurried to load luggage.
"It's an honor to serve you today, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, and…"
The train conductor faltered upon noticing Hans.
Months in Germany, yet some still reacted to his presence with surprise.
"Are you Hans Jo?"
"Hm? Yes. Why?"
"I've been following your serial The Ming Voyager! Could I trouble you for an autograph…?"
Ah.
Avoiding the man's eager gaze, Hans scribbled his name on the standalone edition handed to him. When did they even print this? He vaguely recalled a letter from the publisher but had dismissed it.
"Hans, you're famous!" Viktoria Luise teased.
"Apparently so."
Hans hadn't expected fans in such settings. If I kill off the protagonist later, will they demand a resurrection like Sherlock Holmes? The thought amused and unnerved him.
"Have a pleasant day!"
The beaming conductor vanished with his signed book.
A pleasant day...?
While the children's expressions remained calm, Empress Auguste Viktoria's face betrayed unease.
"Your Majesty, are you well?"
"Hm? Oh, thank you. I… my heart is conflicted."
"Because of Her Majesty's illness?"
The Empress offered a bitter smile.
"You see through me, don't you? Yes. Though I knew this day would come, its arrival still wounds me."
Empress Dowager Victoria suffered from breast cancer—a death sentence even in the 21st century, let alone this era.
"Were you close to her?"
"Initially, no. Tensions between her and the Kaiser distanced us."
She lowered her gaze, guilt lingering. "I… acted unkindly."
"But as time passed, Her Majesty became my solace during the Kaiser's prolonged absences. Slowly, we grew close."
Silence hung between them before she whispered:
"She was a woman of sorrow. I wish… the Kaiser understood that."
Outside, summer sunlight streamed through the train windows. Inside, grief thickened the air.
It was a summer tinged with melancholy.