Tewodros II could be considered a formidable ruler in Abyssinia—even across all of Africa.
Yet in 1868, such a formidable ruler took the initiative to provoke Britain at the height of its power, only to have the British Army annihilate his main force at the enormous cost of two men killed and breach the Abyssinian capital.
Tewodros II had no choice but to commit suicide. Even his corpse was taken by the British to London for exhibition.
It was precisely because Franz knew this history that he found it difficult to associate him with any great threat.
Since Franz had put it that way, Taaffe stopped dwelling on it.
"Let's eat first."
Franz nodded in agreement.
With a snap of his fingers, the musicians and attendants returned to the hall.
The musical style here was not too different from the Viennese court style. Though it had become somewhat bleak and melancholy, there was no trace of the Black music from later generations that Franz knew so well.
In truth, Franz simply did not know enough about music. The Black music familiar to him was not the unadulterated sound of the African continent.
The food, however, had changed considerably. Dishes made from tropical fruits took up nearly half the table, followed by all kinds of seafood. The turtle soup in particular was a British favorite.
In British eyes, this thing was absolutely a delicacy, a symbol of power and extravagance. Franz, however, felt nothing at all about it.
The reason Taaffe's chefs had served the dish was largely for the governor's dignity.
Even Taaffe himself merely took a small sip before setting it aside. It did not particularly suit Austrian tastes.
Franz also picked up a spoon and took a small sip. Rather than soup, it was more like a thick,