Trivial Matters II

Some felt it was jarring to see a Chinese name among a pile of foreign ones. I apologize for not noticing this earlier; it has now been corrected. Thank you for your valuable feedback! Please continue to point out any errors, and I will fix them immediately!

Ferdinand had always been a man of action. Since he intended to build a grain processing plant, he began making preparations right away.

His own estates produced wheat, barley, sugar beets, potatoes, and flax as primary crops, while the livestock sector focused mainly on pigs and cattle.

To maximize profits, vertical integration was essential. A flour mill was the obvious first choice, followed by a sugar refinery. Oh, and potatoes—making them into fries sounded good, though he could also keep them as is. As for flax, should he open a textile mill or a garment factory? He decided to set that aside for now. A slaughterhouse was definitely feasible and required little investment. And then there was...

The more he thought, the longer the list grew. If he could realize it all, Ferdinand could proudly say he was self-sufficient in food, clothing, housing, and transportation—the ultimate goal of any feudal landlord.

Running a factory wasn't that simple. Since his father had passed away early, the family assets were essentially conservative investments—the hallmark of the aristocracy, which had yet to transition into the capitalist era.

So, he would start that transition himself. A hybrid of a great aristocrat and a great capitalist would be the mainstream of social development for the coming decades.

For the moment, however, Ferdinand faced a bit of trouble. Although his family held shares in several factories, they didn't control them, meaning they had fallen behind in terms of talent reserves.

"Steward Karl, send someone to investigate the flour mills near Vienna!" Ferdinand finally decided to start with the flour processing plant.

"Very well, Your Highness, I shall attend to it immediately!" Karl Chekhov replied politely.

Ferdinand was becoming increasingly accustomed to his aristocratic status, unlike when he first arrived and insisted on doing everything himself. Now, his life was one of being waited on hand and foot.

Ferdinand also planned to report to the City Guard. He had been absent without leave since he transmigrated. Although no one had questioned him, he felt it was inappropriate; he should at least go through the motions of a superficial gesture.

Though he had no interest in military life, he had no intention of taking off his uniform just yet.

One had to understand that the aristocracy in the German regions had a tradition of military service. If you didn't serve, you would be looked down upon as a coward, making it difficult to even find a wife of equal social standing.

The Ferdinand family was also part of the German nobility and naturally upheld this tradition.

However, the Austro-Hungarian Empire was truly decadent; there were no shortage of officers like Ferdinand who just sat around waiting for their paychecks.

The old Emperor was powerless to stop it. To maintain the combat effectiveness of the army and prevent them from being a bad influence on others, he simply dumped them all into the City Guard.

Of course, if one were willing to endure hardship, they could apply for a transfer. The original Ferdinand had been planning to jump ship, but the current one had no such thoughts.

Upon entering the City Guard building, a stench of decay wafted toward him, exactly as he remembered. It was a dilapidated, unsightly office building that looked as if it might collapse at any moment.

This is too run-down! No wonder no one comes to work. In this environment, only a ghost would want to show up. I don't know how the original owner managed to stick it out! Ferdinand grumbled to himself.

Walking through the building, he saw nothing but a few lazy, scattered guards on duty; he didn't encounter a single other person.

He found his office—a small room of less than twenty square meters containing a small wooden desk, a chair, a teacup, and a stack of expired newspapers. That was the entirety of the original owner's belongings.

The room was covered in a thick layer of dust, suggesting it hadn't been visited in a long time. Ferdinand looked around and ultimately abandoned the urge to clean it himself.

He turned back the way he came. Without even a single officer on duty to report to, there was no point in staying. The City Guard left him deeply disappointed. With a unit like this, it was no wonder they were beaten black and blue by the Russian Bear.

Ferdinand knew this was only a small part of the military, specifically set aside for people like them—no training, no missions. The rest of the Austro-Hungarian army still possessed some combat capability; after all, they were one of the five great powers of Europe.

But when he thought about the chaotic ethnic conflicts within the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Ferdinand shook his head. The old Emperor had to speak eight languages just to govern; the thought alone was terrifying.

How is the army supposed to be commanded? If each ethnic group forms its own unit, the country will easily fracture. If they are broken up and mixed, to ensure combat effectiveness, the commanders would first have to learn the languages of other ethnic groups. Where would one find such a group of genius officers?

This must be the root cause of the Austro-Hungarian Empire's collapse. Unless they act decisively now to unify language and culture, this country won't last long, even without a World War! Ferdinand mused.

He had already made up his mind to take this as a warning. The ethnic issues in the Balkans were no better than those in Austria-Hungary; the only advantage might be the smaller population. The thought that a small population could be an advantage made Ferdinand chuckle.

Walking the streets of Vienna, Ferdinand still felt somewhat unaccustomed to it. Compared to the future, Vienna was just as prosperous, but unfortunately, it couldn't be described as clean or tidy; many places were quite foul-smelling.

If he couldn't change the world, he would have to adapt to it.

Without realizing it, he arrived at the entrance of a Volvo supermarket and paused to watch for a while.

He watched the bustling crowd move in and out, carrying large and small bags, chatting and laughing as they returned home fully loaded.

Ferdinand was satisfied. He strode toward the Volvo and gestured to the security guards at the door, signaling them to stay put.

He entered the supermarket. The staff were busy working, and when they saw Ferdinand walk in and were about to approach him, he quickly gestured for them to continue.

It was a bit chaotic inside; many goods were piled up in disarray, and the staff were busy tidying up. There was quite a bit of trash on the floor. Ferdinand frowned, then smoothed his expression.

Overall, he was satisfied. Everyone was doing their job, working diligently, and business was booming.

However, this was likely a limitation of the era. A supermarket for commoners didn't consider the importance of hygiene or the comfort of the shopping experience.

Of course, in the 19th century, the public was likely used to it. Vienna was always smelly, and the streets were covered in trash; there weren't such high demands for cleanliness.

Ferdinand found Franz, expressing his approval of his work while also putting forward requirements regarding environmental hygiene.

Ferdinand would rather increase costs now to retain customers. After all, when faced with a choice between clean and tidy versus messy and disorganized, it was easy for people to decide.

This era was the most comfortable one for capitalists. They could make workers work overtime at will; there were no labor unions like in the future, and certainly no threat from the Soviets.

The labor costs Ferdinand had imagined didn't increase, but the service staff now had the additional task of cleaning at all times.

Protests, demonstrations, strikes, demands for wage increases—none of the things from the depths of Ferdinand's memories appeared.