As the old man left, the atmosphere grew particularly heavy. A middle-aged man called out, “Master Six, wait!” A mocking voice chimed in, “Don’t bother calling him. He’s a noble, not like us. Don’t get in the way of his path to wealth.” The voice was deliberately raised, as if afraid the old man wouldn’t hear. The middle-aged man scolded, “Fekel, shut up! Master Six isn’t that kind of person. Not long ago, when the Russians were arresting the guerrillas, it was Master Six who stepped in to resolve the situation. If not for him, we would have been doomed.” “That’s right! Master Six is a good man. A year ago, when my son fell ill, he was the one who helped find a doctor.” “Fekel, if I remember correctly, you’ve got sticky fingers, and Master Six was the one who disciplined you. Now you’re—” … It was clear that Old Six enjoyed quite a good reputation in the town, and the young man Fekel was quickly drowned out by voices of reproach. Under normal circumstances, Fekel would never dare to show hostility toward a noble as doing so could cost him his life. But things had changed with the arrival of the Russians. Because they stood on opposing sides in the war, the local nobles became a prime target for repression by the Russian government. Fekel sneered, “Master Six? He’s nothing more than a stray dog now. He can’t even protect his own family’s estate, yet he still has the nerve to call himself a noble. The Russians took his land, and now he wants us to give up ours too? Why should we?” Seeing the murderous look in the eyes of the crowd, Fekel’s arrogance wavered slightly. But perhaps unwilling to lose face, he stubbornly continued, “Don’t look at me like that! I’m just speaking the truth. Just wait! One of these days, he might sell us out to his Russian masters!” The moment he finished speaking, a fist flew straight at him. Before he could even react, he collapsed in a dramatic fashion, completely knocked out. “Good job, Volkov! That fly was getting on my nerves. If the bastard could speak Russian, he’d have defected to them long ago.” The crowd nodded in agreement. Clearly, no one had a good impression of Fekel, the town’s troublemaker. … In a classical manor on the eastern side of the town, Old Baron Six asked with concern, “Wright, are you ready?” Wright replied, “Everything is prepared. We can leave at any time. But Father, we can leave on our own, why bring along these useless people?” Clearly, Wright was extremely reluctant about his father’s decision to take the townspeople with them. Old Six shook his head. “Wright, you are still too young. These so-called ‘useless people’ are the foundation of our future comeback. Once we leave here, we will no longer be high and mighty feudal lords. You have seen what it’s like for fallen nobles who are left with nothing but a title.” A person away from their homeland is easily devalued, and the same applies to nobles. Once they lose their foundation, they are only slightly better off than commoners. The Kingdom of Prussia has been severely weakened by this war, and Berlin is now crowded with displaced nobles from all over, making the competition exceptionally fierce. A slight advantage in political status is no longer enough to make them stand out and live a prosperous life. And if they leave the Kingdom of Prussia, even that small political advantage will be lost. Of course, this didn’t mean that a noble title was useless. With it, they could still gain access to higher social circles and integrate more easily into the local elite. The catch was that others had to recognize their noble status. In an era without the internet to verify identities, earning that recognition wasn’t easy. For powerful, well-established nobles, this wasn’t a problem. They had influential relatives, and with family and friends to bring them into the fold, their prestigious family name served as proof of their status. But for minor nobles like Six, it was a different story. Without an illustrious ancestor, their family name carried weight only in a small region. Beyond West Prussia, no one had even heard of them. Without a group of people to help spread their reputation, how would anyone know they were nobility? They couldn’t just go around telling everyone, “I’m a noble,” could they? Glancing at his confused son, Old Six let out a sigh. Some things could only be understood through experience, simply explaining them wouldn’t have the same effect. This time, they were heading to Austrian Africa, and the immigration costs weren’t coming out of their own pockets. Bringing the townspeople along would be slightly more troublesome, but it wouldn’t cost them anything. Beyond the goodwill they would gain, simply arriving with such a large group would enhance their standing in the colonial government and this was reason enough for Six to go through with it. A noble’s reputation was valuable. A good name could make it much easier to integrate into noble circles. Wright complained, “But that only works if they appreciate it. If they don’t even care, why should we go out of our way to make fools of ourselves?” The officials from the Austrian Immigration Office had come to promote the program long ago. Those willing to emigrate had signed up early and already left while those who remained were the ones reluctant to leave. Their reluctance wasn’t just about homesickness. More importantly, they had businesses and property here. Leaving meant starting over from scratch. Glaring at his son, Old Six said helplessly, “You fool. With the way the Russians are tormenting people, who can withstand it? At this point, how many families still have anything left? It’s no longer a question of wanting to leave, it’s that the Russians are driving people out. Stay, and you’ll end up as a serf.” “Serf” was an exaggeration. The Russian Empire had already abolished serfdom, but indentured laborers were hardly better off. In some ways, they were even worse off. As if realizing something, Leit asked in disbelief, “You mean the Russians and the Austrians…?” Old Six snapped angrily, “Shut up! Do you think you can say things like that carelessly? Wright, remember this… Loose lips bring disaster! If you value your life, watch your mouth. Don’t speak recklessly, don’t even think recklessly.” As for the truth, Old Six neither knew nor wanted to know. Sometimes, knowing too much was a crime in itself. Seeing his son so dejected, Old Six felt a pang of sympathy. He hesitated for a moment but ultimately held back any words of comfort. Wright was his third and youngest son, only sixteen years old, still untouched by the harsh realities of life. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be his turn to take on responsibility. But the war had changed everything. Old Six’s eldest son had died in battle, and his second son had been severely wounded. Now bedridden, his survival was uncertain. With such sudden misfortune, Old Six had no choice but to accelerate his youngest son’s training. After all, life expectancy in these times was short. Old Six was already over sixty, and his health was failing. Many noble families in Prussia were in the same situation. Countless noble houses were facing a change in succession. For those with multiple sons, the situation was manageable. The real tragedy befell noble families with only one heir. If he died in battle, the bloodline would be severed. That was the true nightmare. What happened in Mordo was just a minor episode. Ever since the Russians began granting noble titles, the former Prussian nobility had been thrown into a panic, scrambling to find a way out. Local resources were limited. There simply wasn’t enough to sustain too many nobles. Competition was inevitable. Even the most naive among them understood that as “hostile elements,” the Russian government would rather see them wiped out than allow them to compete with its own loyal nobles. Leaving voluntarily at least meant they could take some of their wealth with them. But if they waited too long and exhausted the Russians’ patience, they might face total extermination. … The docks along the Baltic coast were once again bustling with activity. Ships came and went in even greater numbers than before the war, creating the illusion of a return to prosperity. But it was all a facade. The once-bustling port cities, filled with carriages and crowds, had now become little more than sprawling refugee camps. The shrewd Russian officials had rented out abandoned houses in the city, along with vacant land outside the walls, to the Austrian Immigration Office for use in housing departing migrants. Emigration was never an easy process. In these times, ships had limited passenger capacity. An ordinary merchant vessel could transport only a few hundred emigrants per trip, with the largest ones barely carrying over a thousand. That was already pushing the limit. Any more, and it wouldn’t be immigration, it would be human trafficking. People weren’t cargo so they needed space to move. Also, overcrowding increased the risk of death. On a bleak and overcast day, Old Six arrived at the port of Kolberg with his entire family, along with the townspeople he had persuaded to come along, joining the long lines of emigrants waiting for their turn. Looking at the rows upon rows of tents, Old Six furrowed his brows. There was no turning back now. Straightening his attire and adjusting his family crest, he braced himself and walked toward the immigration registration office. Noticing that the newcomer was a noble, the clerk in charge of registration greeted him politely, “Baron, this area is for commoners. The noble reception office is inside the city. There are personnel there to receive you, and they will arrange accommodations befitting your status. You may bring your family with you.” Hearing this news, Old Six’s expression eased. He had genuinely been worried that the immigration office would house him alongside the commoners, which would mean his noble status had been revoked. Without that protective title, surviving in a foreign land would be much more difficult. After giving a few instructions, Old Six led his family away from the main group. The clerk’s words had been clear. He could bring his family, which meant the others were not included. As expected, being a baron granted Old Six’s family a private courtyard as their temporary residence. It was fully equipped with all the basic necessities and only servants were missing. But that wasn’t a concern. Most emigrants traveled with their households, so finding servants would not be an issue. Once settled in, Old Six didn’t sit idly. His first priority was visiting his peers. The noble circles were both vast and small. Great nobles had connections worldwide, while minor nobles had influence only within their home regions. Old Six wasn’t a great noble, so his network was limited. However, within the West Prussian aristocracy, he was at least a familiar face. Back home, this hadn’t seemed particularly important. But now, leaving their homeland for a foreign country, these connections became vital resources. Sticking together was only natural. For several days in a row, Old Six took his son to various noble banquets, forging quite a few connections. If not for concerns about his limited wealth and the large amount of startup capital needed for future endeavors, Old Six would have hosted a banquet himself. Of course, that was out of the question. In Kolberg, which was under Russian control, prices were more than ten times higher than normal, deliberately set to exploit wealthy emigrants like them. The Austrian Immigration Office provided only the most basic necessities. Even buying groceries required spending their own money, let alone hosting a banquet. Beyond the cost, hosting such an event also required strong connections to withstand the inevitable visits from Russian officials looking for bribes. The Russian government was strapped for cash. The newly enfeoffed nobles had received only land, with no additional monetary rewards and many of them were practically penniless. Desperate to make a fortune, they had little regard for ethical boundaries. The recently imposed advance tax collection was just one of their latest schemes. After a simple lunch, Old Six was deep in thought about his future plans when his butler’s voice interrupted him. “Baron, we’ve just received word that the residents of Mordo will be boarding their ship in three days, while we have to wait another week. I’ve inquired about this. The colonial ministry prefers to scatter immigrants from the same region, and there are rarely any exceptions.” Old Six’s expression changed dramatically. “Scattered resettlement” meant that all of his previous plans had to be scrapped. He had intended to use the townspeople as a foundation to quickly establish himself in an unfamiliar land, but now that was no longer possible. Years of experience had made Old Six shrewd. After a brief moment of frustration, he quickly calmed down and began analyzing the situation. It didn’t take him long to pinpoint the reasons behind this decision. One reason was that the colonial government wanted to prevent large groups from forming, as it would make governance more difficult. The other, and more crucial reason, was that the colonial territories were no longer in their early development phase. Nobles had already established themselves in most regions. As the vested interests, these nobles naturally didn’t want newcomers competing for their share of power and resources. It was only expected that they would take steps to limit the influence of these new arrivals. And they were doing so openly, with perfectly justifiable reasons. Realizing this, Old Six couldn’t help but feel a bitter regret. One wrong step led to a lifetime of regret. Back when Austrian Africa was first being colonized, he had the opportunity to participate. He had even personally traveled to Africa for an inspection. But in his arrogance, he dismissed Austrian Africa’s potential, convinced that the path to glory lay in building a Greater Prussian Empire. Yet after decades of struggle, he was now forced into exile, leaving behind everything he had once fought for. Survival pressures had brought him back to this land he once scorned. Having missed the pioneering stage, he had lost his chance to claim a “founding stake.” Now that the enterprise had grown, joining it meant being treated as just another latecomer. The first wave of nobles who settled in Austrian Africa had now become the core of Austria’s colonial administration. People like him, arriving later, were at best a mere supplement. From the colonial government’s perspective, having new immigrants was beneficial, but if they didn’t come, things would carry on just the same. Still, despite knowing all this, Austrian Africa remained Old Six’s best option. The world was cruel, and competition was everywhere. Staying in his homeland was no longer possible, and Europe was in the midst of an economic crisis where jobs were scarce, and opportunities were dwindling. If he didn’t go to Austrian Africa, where the culture and traditions were at least familiar, he would have to move somewhere with a completely different language and customs, where survival would be even harder.
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