Holy Roman Empire

With the departure of the old man, the atmosphere grew especially somber.

A middle-aged man called out, "Lord Siss, wait."

A mocking voice sounded, "Stop calling, he’s Nobility, unlike us. Don’t block his road to wealth and honor."

As if afraid the older man hadn’t heard, he deliberately raised his voice.

The middle-aged man scolded, "Fickel, shut your mouth! Lord Siss isn’t that sort of person.

When the Russians were arresting guerrillas not long ago, it was Lord Siss who stepped in and resolved the issue, otherwise, we’d have been in a sorry state."

"Exactly, Lord Siss is a good man. When my son fell ill a year ago, it was he who found a doctor to help."

"Fickel, I remember you being unscrupulous and getting a lesson from Lord Siss, you are..."

...

It was evident that Old Siss still had a respectable reputation in the town, and the young man Fickel’s comments were quickly drowned out by the chorus of rebukes.

Normally, Fickel wouldn’t dare show hostility towards a member of the Nobility; otherwise, it could be deadly.

The situation changed with the arrival of the Russians, as local aristocrats faced targeted oppression from the Tsarist Government for being on the opposing side during the war.

Fickel sneered, "Lord Siss, indeed! He’s now nothing more than a dog that has lost its home, unable to protect his own estate, and he still has the face to claim his noble status.

The Russians took his lands, and now he wants us to give up ours too, why should we?"

Seeing the murderous intent in the crowd’s eyes, Fickel’s arrogance dissipated somewhat, and maybe out of embarrassment, he pressed on stubbornly.

"Don’t look at me like that. I’m only stating the facts. Just wait, it wouldn’t surprise me if one day he sold us all to our Russian masters!"

No sooner had he finished, a fist flew towards him, and before he understood what was happening, Fickel fainted beautifully.

"Well done, Volkov. That fly was the most annoying. If this scoundrel knew Russian, he’d probably have run off to the Russians by now," someone said.

The crowd nodded in agreement, clearly sharing a low opinion of Fickel, the street hoodlum.

...

Inside a classical mansion on the eastern side of the town, Baron Old Siss asked concernedly, "Lite, are you ready?"

Lite answered, "All ready, we can leave at any time.

But father, we could leave by ourselves, why do we need to bring these useless people along?"

Clearly, Lite was very reluctant about the old man’s decision to take the townspeople along.

Old Siss shook his head, "Lite, you’re still too young. These ’useless people’ you speak of, they are the foundation of our rise once more.

Once we leave here, we will no longer be the high and mighty Fief Aristocrats. Just being down-and-out Aristocrats with nothing but a title, you have seen how that goes."

Nobility fares no better away from home. Once their foundation is lost, they’re hardly stronger than commoners.

In this war, the Kingdom of Prussia was severely weakened, and Berlin had already gathered nobles who had fallen from grace from all quarters, making the competition extraordinarily fierce.

The slight political advantage they had was not enough to make them stand out or lead a life of affluence.

If they left the Kingdom of Prussia, they would lose even that meager political advantage.

Of course, that doesn’t mean a noble title is useless. With that title, they could still access higher circles and integrate more easily into the local society.

The precondition is that others recognize their noble status, and without the internet to verify identities, getting recognition wasn’t easy.

Well-established Nobility had no such problems, with powerful relatives in abundance and friends to introduce them, their illustrious family name served as the best proof.

But for minor nobles like Siss, that was not the case. Lacking a powerful ancestor, their family name was known only within a small area, and outside West Prussia, unheard of.

Without a group of people to proclaim their status, how could they make others aware of their noble identity? They couldn’t very well declare themselves nobles to everyone they met, could they?

After glancing at his confused son, Old Siss sighed. Some lessons had to be learned through personal experience; they lost impact when explained by others.

This time they were headed to the Austro-African Colonies, and the immigration fees were not even coming out of their pocket. Taking everyone with them was not only a small bother but also cost them nothing.

Not to mention the favors they’d be selling, just bringing so many people could elevate their status in the eyes of the colonial government, and that alone made the venture worthwhile for Siss.

A noble reputation was valuable, and a good name could help them easily enter aristocratic circles.

Lite complained, "But only if they are willing. It’s no use cozying up to those who aren’t grateful."

Officials from the Austrian Immigration Office had already come to promote immigration, and those willing had signed up and left promptly; what remained were those reluctant to leave due to their attachment to home.

"Attachment" was not just homesickness but more about having properties here; leaving meant starting anew.

Glaring at his son, Old Siss said helplessly, "Fool, with the Russians causing such turmoil, who can withstand it?

Now, it’s not about wanting to leave or not; it’s the Russians driving people out. To stay means to become serfs." n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"Serf" was an exaggerated term, as the Russian Empire had abolished serfdom, though bonded labor was not much better and in some ways, even more miserable.

As if a realization struck him, Lite asked incredulously, "Are you saying that the Russians and Austria..."

Old Siss scolded, "Shut up, are those words to be thrown around recklessly? Lite, remember, disaster comes from the mouth!

If you haven’t had enough of life, then watch your tongue and don’t speak carelessly, and don’t even entertain such thoughts."

What the truth was, Old Siss didn’t know, nor did he want to know. Sometimes knowing too much was a sin in itself.

Looking at his dejected son, Old Siss felt a pang of pity, but after hesitating for a moment, he still held back words of comfort.

Lite was his third and youngest son, just turned sixteen and yet to face the harshness of the world.

Under normal circumstances, it was not Lite’s turn to take charge. But the war had taken the life of Old Siss’s eldest son, and his second son was gravely injured and bedridden, his life hanging by a thread.

Faced with sudden calamity, Old Siss had no choice but to speed up the grooming of his youngest son. After all, the average lifespan was short in those days, and Old Siss, well over sixty, was no longer in his prime.

Prussian regions like Old Siss’s family were plenty, and many nobility families experienced a change of heirs.

This was still alright if a family had many sons; the most tragic were the nobles with only one child, for whom death in battle meant the end of the lineage, a true human tragedy.

The incident in Moldo was just a minor episode. Ever since the Russians began ennobling fief aristocrats, the original Prussian nobility started to panic, looking for a way out.

With the limited resources of the locality, sustaining too many nobles was impossible. Competition was inevitable.

Even those with great ambition knew that the Tsarist Government, considering them "hostile elements," would love to get rid of them sooner rather than later. How could they possibly compete with the direct line of the Tsarist?

Taking initiative to find a way out and leave could at least allow them to take some of their fortunes with them. Otherwise, once patience ran out, they risked being completely cut off.

...

The docks along the Baltic Sea were bustling again, with the coming and going of ships even more frequent than before the war, seemingly restoring the former prosperity.

Unfortunately, this prosperity was an illusion. The port cities, once bustling at sunset, had now transformed into veritable refugee camps.

Astute Russian officials had already rented out unclaimed houses in the city, along with the empty spaces outside the city, to the Austrian Immigration Office for the accommodation of the immigrants soon to depart.

Immigration has never been an easy matter. Nowadays, ships have a limited passenger capacity, with ordinary merchant vessels carrying only a few hundred immigrants at a time, at most around a thousand or so.

This was already the limit. To add more people would not be transporting immigrants; it would be trafficking human beings.

People are not goods; they need a certain amount of personal space. High density increases the death rate.

On a grey, misty day, Old Siss, with his entire family and some persuaded town residents, arrived at Kolobrzeg Port to join the queue of immigrants waiting to leave.

Seeing the rows of tents, Old Siss’s brow furrowed. There was no turning back now that he had come this far.

After straightening his attire and adorning his family crest, Old Siss steeled himself and headed towards the immigration registration office.

Recognizing the arrival of a noble, the official in charge of registration greeted him politely, "Baron, this area is for the settlement of commoners, while the nobility reception is located within the city.

There are dedicated personnel in the city to receive you and arrange accommodation that suits your status. You may bring your family along."

Upon hearing this, Old

Siss’s expression softened. He had indeed been afraid that he and the commoners would be placed together by the Immigration Bureau, which would mean his nobility was nullified.

Without this protection, trying to establish a foothold in a foreign land would be difficult.

After giving a few instructions, Old Siss left with his family, separating from the main group. The official’s words were clear; taking his family meant that the rest did not need to go.

Unsurprisingly, as a baron, Old Siss’s family was given a separate small courtyard as a temporary residence.

The essential living supplies were all provided; the only thing missing was servants. This was a small issue; as most emigrants left with their households, there was no shortage of servants.

Once settled, Old Siss wasted no time and began visiting other nobles.

The circle of nobility could be both large and small; the network of major nobility spanned the whole world, whereas the lesser nobility congregated around their doorstep.

Old Siss was not a major noble, so naturally, his social circle wasn’t extensive. However, he was still a familiar face in the nobility circle of West Prussia.

While still at home, it didn’t seem very important, but now, leaving his homeland for a foreign country, this network became a crucial resource.

Gathering together is a natural human instinct.

For several days in a row, Old Siss had taken his son to attend nobility banquets, making quite a few friends.

If he hadn’t been concerned about his modest family fortune and the need for substantial capital for future ventures, he would have liked to host a banquet himself.

Of course, that was out of the question. In Kovobrezheg Port, controlled by the Russians, prices were more than ten times the norm, specifically targeting the newly rich like them.

The Austrian Immigration Office only provided the most basic necessities; even buying vegetables had to come out of their own pockets, not to mention hosting a banquet.

Beyond the expense, one also needed enough connections to withstand the Russians coming over to take advantage of them.

The Tsarist Government was impoverished, and the newly ennobled aristocrats received no bonuses aside from their lands—many of them were as poor as church mice.

To get rich, these people had very low standards. The ongoing advance tax collection had been concocted by these same individuals.

After a simple lunch, while Old Siss pondered his future development plans, the housekeeper’s voice rose beside him.

"Baron, we’ve just received word that the residents of Moldo Town will embark in three days, while we have to wait another week.

I’ve inquired around, and the colonial government likes to scatter immigrants from the same area upon settlement. There are hardly any exceptions."

Old Siss’s complexion changed drastically; ’scattered settlement’ meant all his prior plans needed to be started over from scratch.

He had hoped to use the town’s residents as a foundation to quickly gain a foothold in a strange land. Now, that was simply no longer feasible.

With age came cunning, and after many experiences, Old Siss quickly calmed down and began to analyze the causes and consequences.

He soon found the reason. On one hand, the colonial government didn’t want them to band together, which would make governance more difficult.

On the other hand, and most importantly, it was no longer the early days of colonization; virtually every region already had established nobility.

As beneficiaries, these people naturally didn’t want to share their cake and, thus, devised ways to limit these newcomers, which was unsurprising.

They acted openly and with good reason. Upon realizing this, Old Siss couldn’t help but show a trace of bitterness.

A single misstep can lead to a lifetime of regret. During the initial colonial period in Austro-Africa, he had been qualified to participate and had even personally surveyed the African Continent.

But at that time, he was too proud and dismissive of Austro-Africa’s prospects, fixated on establishing the Great Prussian Empire.

Yet, after decades of effort, he ended up in exile. Forced by survival pressures, he had no choice but to set foot on this land once again.

Having missed the startup phase and not securing any original shares, joining an expanded enterprise later couldn’t compare to earlier shareholders in terms of treatment.

Those who initially rooted in Austro-Africa had now become Austria’s direct line, the foundational force of the colonial government.

Latecomers like them could only be icing on the cake. For the colonial government, having these immigrants was nice, but life would go on without them all the same.

Knowing that, Austro-Africa was still Old Siss’s best option. The world is cruel, and competition is fierce everywhere.

Unable to stay in his homeland, with the European Continent in the throes of an economic crisis and no job opportunities at home, he had no option but to seek a living overseas.

Not going to Austro-Africa, where cultural traditions aligned, and choosing a place where not even the language or script were understood, would make mere survival a challenge.