Taaffe still remembered the journey when he had first come to Tanzania: howling winds, towering waves, and several people dead—yet the sailors had acted as though nothing had happened.
Franz understood his friend's concern very well, but he had his own route and would not suffer that kind of ordeal.
"Thank you. But I have come this time on a very important matter."
As Franz spoke, the attendants in the room immediately withdrew, leaving only several of his personal guards behind.
"Please speak, Your Majesty."
Taaffe drew in a deep breath, his belly swelling round.
"In one year, I will send men to take over Somalia. I need you to prepare sufficient supplies and labor.
"We will establish a permanent colony there."
Franz's words left Taaffe looking somewhat troubled.
"Your Majesty, you know... I failed military studies."
Franz curled his lip.
"Who told you to go fight? Just prepare the supplies properly. Someone else will do the fighting for you."
"Oh."
"Once the fighting is over, I need you to stabilize the situation immediately and establish permanent fortifications."
Franz paused again before adding, "Leave not a single black native alive."
Taaffe frowned.
"Your Majesty, there is something I have always been curious about. Why can't we use black people as laborers?"
Franz responded with a question.
"Why do you think the British abolished black slavery?"
Taaffe still remembered Franz's explanation from back then.
"High costs? Low efficiency? Then why not take them in as free men? We could employ them instead.
"Wouldn't that work?"
Franz shook his head.
"No. Not at all. The Empire cannot bear that price. Especially not my Empire—I will not hide a powder keg beneath my crotch.
"I suggest you do not do so either.
"Those who sympathize with black people and insist on pleading their