Part 22 -- A Distant Hope ArrivesThe Emperor turned fully away from the map on the wall, haggard from lack of sleep, and staggered by the surprise.
“I... I welcome you, sir, to the capitol of our nation,” he said, trying to smooth his clothes. He looked like any European businessman, and not an especially prosperous one.
Yimer translated into Italian, and added, “He also speaks French, and I think a little Greek.”
The European shortly bowed, then looked at the Emperor’s outstretched hand. Then he said, “In my nation, only a few years ago, on any night our king would sit outside on his porch, watching the sun go down, and smoking a pipe, welcoming any walkers on the road nearby to come up onto the porch with him and talk.” He swallowed as Yimer translated back for us; and when he spoke again there were tears in his voice. “I do not know what happened to my king, Nicholas, when the Hungarians took our land. But I am very deeply honored to shake the hand of a king such as you.”
And, so he did.
“Why then,” cried Iyasu, “let us go outside and have a pipe if you wish, and eat from our grill, and talk!”
Petar gladly agreed, but then hesitated. Yimer explained: “He has brought some other men to see you, sir. They are waiting downstairs. I don’t think he wants to exclude them.”
“Certainly not! Well; we will have a banquet in our street, and offer the poor some meat as well.”
And so they did. The smell of the meats on the grill, and the bread brought by the Emperor’s wife and children, lifted the spirits of all who came near us, as the early summer sun set on our land.
“O king,” said the European statesman after drinks had been brought and mixed, “soon I shall tell you who these men are I have brought with me, scattered as we were from our homes in the Balkan Black Mountains. But first, allow me to ask: are you in need of a foreign minister who has experience making trades agreements with other nations?”
“Indeed I am! In these times of war, such men are like a mine of gold and platinum for a nation!”
“The king mayhap has heard that in the small but noble nation of Montenegro, we survived and thrived by making such agreements.”
“I have not heard, but now I have. Continue?”
“Yes, and I myself have had some experience in these matters, of a sort that may, perhaps, benefit your land, in these times of war.”
Yimer added, in their own language, “This man and the ones who taught him helped make Montenegro rich through trade, sir. Out of the several possible foreign ministers thrown into the seas by war, during the previous year, this man is the one whom I have heard the best things about. His contacts helped him survive and hide away from his home abroad, along with his family.”
The Emperor nodded. “As you can see, Ethiopia struggles, and I must be frank: the hand of Britain is closing down upon us.”
“But you have some ports, now; and my land was full of rugged mountains, Emperor of the Horn. Let me make a home, here, with a king who loves his people as did our beloved Nicholas, God rest his soul,” he crossed himself. “Then, if you can make your home safe, I will bring my family here as well. I shall be able to help you in your defense -- through several methods.”
“Several methods, sir?” The Emperor now was eyeing the men seated around us eating our meat.
“Yes, I think you will find that I knew people, and still know them. With the help of your able and honored minister Yimer, I have gathered them together from the winds, and in some cases saved them from our enemies. They were not wanted, where they were, even by our enemies, so they will not be missed. If they please you, they wish to live here in exile with me, and start a Montenegro of the Horn, as it were.”
“So far I see no objection, if they are willing to work for our nation. I think you will find us grateful in our compensation for their efforts, sir.”
“Allow me then to introduce you to Nicholas of Montenegro.” At this, a man of noble bearing but simple clothes, hearing Petar’s Italian, stood before Yimer could finish translating, and...
...the Emperor of Ethiopia leapt to his feet, spilling his jar beside him; children hurried to clean it. “You have brought me a king, and did not let me honor him -- !”
“Shh, shh,” Petra gestured quietly, “Who is a king in your nation but you, O king? Many men from Montenegro were named for the saint; is that not true here?”
Iyasu looked doubtful. The other man bowed and offered his hand. “I share the name of the king, of course -- and he shares mine! I am soldier visiting your country until, perhaps, the day when I can return to my own.”
“It shall be as you say, but if I may say so, your bearing is regal, sir.”
“You may say so, only don’t say it so loudly, my king,” the other man smiled. “As the first of my family named for the saint,” he lightly coughed -- the king of Montenegro had been Nicholas the First, I thought I recalled, “allow me to bring you gifts that I have managed to find, oh, scattered along the road, for I am poor.”
“Please, proceed.” The other men stood, as the regal Nicholas introduced them: a strong selection of men from Budva Dockyard; from the University of Montenegro; from the Bar Railway; from Montenegrin Agriculture; and far from least, several officers from the Podgorica Academy and the Montenegro Defense Ministry. “And this salty gentleman,” Nicholas said, “once was captain of the Royal Armed Yacht!”
Iyasu’s eyes kept widening with every round of introduction; with this last, they narrowed in humored suspicion and he shot a glance at Nicholas. “Alas, the yacht was lost at sea, during the final invasion,” the royal visitor said. “But, I found him sheltering some of these men, and Yimer’s contacts found us all, and one thing led to another, and here we are: seeking asylum.”
“And to work,” said the captain; also the other men nodded.
“I... honestly, my friends, you see how poor we are. All our factories push us weakly along, and I cannot promise you work, or not at once. But I can promise you homes, if you promise to offer us work when we ask.”
“We offer you that, and also more.”
“More?”
At a gesture the followers of these men hefted traveling satchels.
“Blueprints we were working on before the final invasion,” said the soldier Nicholas. “And if you take us to your factories, you may find these men in particular producing light artillery pieces once you allocate resources. These other men, they can help your farm equipment. I myself and also some others can train and design some kit for combat engineers. I have been told by Petar that you may find these possibly useful on a day to come, even if not now. The blueprints need more work in order to fit them for production -- do you know about antibiotics? We can design you troopships, old but seaworthy. We wanted to build an airforce, and have worked up plans for recon planes -- “
“I have one of those!” Habte had joined the gathering sometime earlier, staying silent in the background -- now he hopped with delight. “A French monoplane, I mean, not the blueprints for it. I haven’t had time to draw up any...”
“This is Habte Giyorgis Dinegde, the greatest modern mind ever produced by Ethiopia -- so far as I know!” the Emperor laughed, as Yimer made translations. The other men bowed. “You will get along famously with him I think. But, sirs, I do not think you understand the plight of our desperation. We absolutely must have factories, in order to make such marvels; and we just don’t have the factories yet, or any way to make them, and even though very soon we could start making them we must make the room to make them so to speak. Which will take years.” And the Emperor sighed from the depth of his soul.
“We ourselves had not yet gotten far enough to fabricate factories on our own, so to speak.” The simple soldier Nicholas had clearly taken over being the spokesman; Petar stood aside and practically glowed with joy. “But we do have plans; also for helping factories be more efficient. Very basic plans, compared with other nations, but possibly we could compare our notes with what you are researching now, and speed things along a little more?”
“Habte!” the Emperor clapped his hands. “Take these men at once to the Imperial Palace and give them rooms, and then direct the proper men tomorrow to our research teams!”
“I have heard, sir, you gave your palace away to be a children’s school and also a museum.” Nicholas nodded in approval.
“The museum may have to move, although if we run out of room we may have to find you other accommodations. Which indeed we will: our children must be taught,” the Emperor smiled.
So saying the ministers gathered together the greatest hope we yet had found, and led them to beds for the night. In one grand heroic effort, the man that I had once dismissed as a flattering sycophant had managed more for our nation than all our other efforts combined in a year.
But would we, could we survive long enough to see that hope bear fruit?
[Note: nothing happened on the map during this plot interlude, of course, so the Def-fan is still 8. (Unlike Defcon that's worse. 
) Nicholas I of Montenegro was a colorful chap, a mountain man who cannily negotiated his way into being set over his native Montenego as king by the Austrians -- who then overran him of course in the war. I'll try to post his photo later, and that of Petar. The story about him chilling on his porch at the end of the day, smoking his pipe and inviting people on the sidewalk to come on up and have a talk, is 100% true. As are some other details which will come out a few chapters from now.
I don't have the faintest idea what happened to him after Montenegro was overrun; but if someone told me he retreated to one of the mountains where he threw boulder-artillery at the Hungarians until they had to call in a wizard to summon a comet down onto him, after which his ghost wrestled a hibernating dragon into submission and he rode it around zorching the Austrian army until the end of the war, I WOULD TOTALLY BE PREPARED TO BELIEVE THAT! 
He was one of those memetic badasses like Davy Crockett; except very much more politically ambitious.]
