Prince Abdullah and his diplomatic entourage had finally departed Austria.
Over the past three weeks, they had toured major imperial cities including Vienna, Prague, and Trieste, inspecting local academies, industrial factories, parliamentary halls, and civic institutions.
They also enjoyed a formal audience with Archduke Charles of Austria, who represented the government since Emperor Ferdinand’s documented mental illness kept the monarch hidden from public life.
The European tour opened the envoys’ eyes, though the religious representatives—led by the conservative cleric Hariri—were deeply unsettled by the secular nature of Western society, knowing such freethinking would cause riots back home.
Still, no one could deny the sheer productivity of Austria’s automated factories, and the delegates realized Persia desperately needed those very machines to rebuild its economy and boycott foreign imports.
As they analyzed everything they had witnessed, the delegation arrived in Berlin, preparing for an official audience with King Frederick William IV of Prussia.
Before entering the capital, the diplomats made a stopover in Altmark-Schönhausen, where the local mayor and Prussian Foreign Minister Karl von Canitz und Dallwitz received them.
“Welcome to Prussia, gentlemen!” Foreign Minister Karl greeted them warmly.
According to their itinerary, the delegation would rest in the rural district for a day before riding on to Berlin to meet the King.
The countryside was picturesque, dominated by sprawling agricultural estates belonging to the Junker landowning class who formed the backbone of the Prussian military corps, earning them immense social privilege and government favor.
Unsurprisingly, these Junker aristocrats were famous for their fiery tempers and a reckless passion for dueling.
As Abdullah rode past one grand manor, a booming, thunderous argument erupted from the courtyard, nearly deafening him.
“I am telling you, your incompetent peasants crossed onto my property and stole my timber!
Do you honestly think you can make a fool out of me?” a deep voice roared.
“I saw no such thing!
You are making up lies!” another voice shouted back.
“Then let us settle this with a duel!
We will let our pistols decide who is telling the truth!” Abdullah had never heard a human being shout with such terrifying volume; it sounded like a lion roaring inside a canyon.
Eager to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of an aristocratic gunfight, Abdullah urged his horse forward, asking the mayor who owned the estate.
“You mean that young man?” the mayor sighed, rolling his eyes.
“He is a terror.
Word is he fought nineteen separate duels while attending university.” “He was supposed to become a quiet government clerk, but he quit in disgust.
After his mother passed away, he and his brother split the family estate, but his temper is notoriously volatile.” “What is his name?” Abdullah asked, mildly intrigued.
“…Hmm, Otto Eduard Leopold von Bismarck,” the mayor recalled.
“Yes, that’s him.” Back in Persia, having resolved to tour his three newly acquired northern provinces, Nasser al-Din dispatched royal couriers ahead to demand all regional bureaucrats attend his formal receptions.
He also brought a fully drilled military regiment along for the ride, eager to flaunt his army’s strength to any local elites thinking of disobeying his orders.
Simultaneously, a new Persian language broadsheet began publication in Tabriz, officially titled the National News of Iran.
The inaugural print run of 500 copies sold out within minutes of hitting the streets.
From senior Ulama scholars and imperial officials down to street vendors, anyone who possessed basic literacy scrambled to buy a copy.
“I had no idea the outside world was so vast, or that a single Western machine could do an entire year’s worth of hand labor in one day!” one reader marvelled to his friend.
“That is nothing,” the friend replied, flipping the page.
“I heard they have iron engines on tracks that cover a hundred miles in a single day, along with countless other wonders we have never dreamed of—all manufactured in the West.” “Ah, why wasn’t I selected to study abroad in Europe?” another young reader sighed wistfully.
While ordinary Persians marveled at these foreign technological wonders, many worried that rapid modernization would disrupt their peaceful, traditional ways of life.
Yet, whenever they recalled the humiliating military defeats and economic bullying suffered at the hands of Tsarist Russia, they concluded that adopting modern tools wasn’t so bad after all.
Recently, a steady stream of foreign technical experts had arrived in Tabriz, bringing curious innovations that captivated local crowds.
One European agricultural specialist demonstrated a strange, muddy root called the potato, assuring skeptical farmers that it yielded far more food per acre than wheat and could be cooked and eaten directly.
Though local peasants were initially skeptical of such miraculous claims, Nasser al-Din threw his full royal backing behind potato farming, ordering regional estates to plant experimental crops.
The foreign experts also introduced advanced European manuals on forestry management and sericulture, aiming to revolutionize Persia’s traditional silk industry.
“Your Excellency Amir, I strongly urge you to discuss extending our planned railway past Ardabil all the way into Mazandaran,” British railway engineer Scott argued during a planning session with Amir Kabir.
Scott laid out the technical advantages, explaining that extending the track network would accelerate regional freight, kickstart industrial growth, and allow royal troops to deploy across the northern frontier at a moment’s notice.
A brilliant strategy that killed three birds with one stone, making a short Tabriz-Ardabil stub look like a wasted opportunity.
“Mr.
Scott, you must understand the immense political capital the Crown Prince expended just to get this initial line approved,” Amir Kabir replied, shaking his head.
“Securing permission for a single railway was a miracle in itself, let alone expanding it into a national network.” Amir Kabir noted that if the pilot line proved profitable, the prince would gladly expand construction, but if it provoked public riots, the Crown Prince would have to pay to tear up the tracks himself.
Hearing the word “demolition,” Scott protested loudly.
“Sir, I give you my professional word the line will succeed!
You will reap massive economic returns, it simply requires patience!” “I certainly hope the Crown Prince’s gamble pays off,” Amir Kabir murmured softly.
Scott went on to explain the engineering realities of laying track, noting first that railways could rarely run in straight lines.
Tsarist Russia could build straight railways because its terrain consisted mostly of flat plains, but mountainous Persia required cutting deep mountain tunnels, building stone bridges, and routing tracks along winding valleys.
Surveys were merely the first step, followed by the massive logistical hurdle of importing steel rails, steam locomotives, and wooden sleepers from British foundries.
Connecting Tabriz to Ardabil across 180 kilometers of rugged terrain carried an estimated cost of 120 million tumans.
To fund the ambitious venture, capital was pooled directly from the Governor’s Office and the Tabriz Bank vaults, securing the initial phase while administrators figured out how to raise the remainder.
For Amir Kabir, driving domestic industrial development remained the top priority, with boycotting cheap Russian imports standing as the ultimate goal.
When local entrepreneurs formed the Persian Industrial Confederation, Amir Kabir granted them immediate government backing, dedicating a third of the state newspaper’s pages exclusively to industrial news and manufacturing guides.
Ten months into the year, the results were staggering: 233 new domestic factories had opened across Azerbaijan, concentrated primarily in textile weaving and silk processing.
The province also saw the historic opening of Persia’s very first paper mill, commercial food processing plant, and match factory.
These private factories were launched with capital investments ranging from 500 tumans to 10.000 tumans, mostly funded by the rising class of domestic merchants.
Meanwhile, heavy industrial ventures established directly by the Governor’s Office—including mining, heavy machinery, and defense foundries—were capitalized with baseline investments starting at 100.000 tumans each.
Nasser al-Din personally launched a new state mining enterprise after prospectors discovered a rich coal deposit right outside Tabriz.
Since Persia’s known coal reserves were modest—only slightly better than those of Italy or Japan—every single deposit was exceptionally valuable for powering steam engines.
The Crown Prince allocated 200.000 tumans from the provincial treasury to found the Tabriz Coal Mine, projecting an initial output of 2.000 tons of coal annually.
This rapid wave of new state and private enterprises began reshaping the regional economic landscape.
While the adoption of modern machinery had initially been restricted to military foundries, the sheer efficiency of steam power inevitably spilled over into civilian production, driving rapid commercial growth and bringing Persia one step closer to national prosperity.
(TN: I’ve got real bad eye infection, so i couldn’t translate that many chapters nor edited that properly, if there’s any mistakes and chinese propaganda that slip to the chapter, let me know) ————————————– If you enjoy this story consider support me on P Site/OrbisTranslate,