Persian Empire 1845

Chapter 517 The Meeting of Three Monarchs (Part 2)
Naserdin waved to the surrounding crowd, and Franz and Maximilian followed suit. The people here are much better; unlike in Europe, they don't want to cut off the monarch's head.

"Let's go and see it together."

The three entered the venue, and the novelty inside gave them a different feeling. All sorts of new and interesting products were on display before their eyes.

Franz held up a can, unlike the glass jars, this one was made of metal. It bore the eagle emblem of the Isfahan Royal Food Factory embossed on it. "Interesting," he said, turning to the Iranian engineer beside him, "that this tin-plated iron can preserve pomegranate juice for up to eighteen months?"

The engineer bowed respectfully: "Your Majesty the Emperor of Austria, this is an improved version of French technology, but we have added a Persian glue sealing process to the seams." The engineer used his silver can opener to pry open the sample, and the sweet aroma of dates immediately filled the air.

Maximilian's attention, however, was drawn to the booth next door. Amidst the swirling steam, a strange machine, as tall as a two-story building, was humming and operating. A complex system of brass pipes and glassware was separating black liquid crude oil into fractions of different colors.

“This is a new type of distillation tower in the Baku oil field,” the guide, dressed in a Tehran Polytechnic uniform, raised his voice to drown out the machine noise. “It can process two hundred barrels of oil per day, and the purity can reach 95%!” He noticed that the nameplate on the base of the distillation tower was marked in both Persian and German with “Patent of Mannheim Mechanical Manufacturing Company”, and couldn’t help but exchange a meaningful look with his brother.

It is often said that Iran's oil technology is among the world's best, and now it seems that this is indeed the case.

Franz suddenly stopped in front of a set of miniature models. The exquisitely crafted model displayed a crisscrossing network of railways, the central station's dome seemingly pieced together from thin sheets of real lapis lazuli. "This is the planned Persian Gulf to Caspian Sea railway," the Transport Minister pointed, wielding a gilded baton. "It will use mountain locomotive technology provided by Austria, but the rails will all be manufactured by the Shiraz steelworks." The toy locomotives on the models spewed realistic steam, and the inscription "Made jointly by Vienna and Tehran" on the chimneys gleamed under the lights.

At this time, the non-Hungarian railway mileage of the Austrian Empire had increased by 7900 kilometers, while the railway mileage in the Hungarian region had increased by nearly 6000 kilometers. The development of Austrian railways during this period was relatively balanced, which also meant that Austrian railway lines had achieved unprecedented development in the eastern part of the empire. The railway network of the entire empire extended to many new areas, and even reached the borders of the empire.

The establishment of the Austrian National Railway Authority signifies a return to government-led development of Austria's railway system. The reorganized Austrian Railway Company became the sole railway enterprise in the country and embarked on a series of railway construction projects.

When the three arrived at the agricultural exhibition area, a professor from Shiraz University was demonstrating a new type of wheat threshing machine. Unlike traditional wooden farm implements, this steel behemoth could do the work of twenty people with just two horses. "It's particularly suitable for the plains along the Caspian Sea," the professor said, pulling the lever as golden wheat grains cascaded out like a waterfall. "Last year, in a test field in Gilan province, yields increased by 40%."

“This is good,” all three monarchs praised. It could accelerate their agricultural development.

The Austrian-dominated Inner Leitania region comprised 57% of the national population and controlled the majority of economic resources. Within decades of the empire's establishment, population, resources, and the deliberate introduction of technological advantages by the rulers enabled Inner Leitania's economy to develop extremely rapidly. Conversely, Outer Leitania's deeply entrenched small-scale farming economy, scarce skilled workers, and rugged terrain in some mining areas leading to extremely high transportation costs severely hampered its industrial development compared to Inner Leitania.

Therefore, Franz wanted to strengthen the nation's power by developing agriculture. This was also to balance interests and prevent any one region from becoming too dominant.

Maximilian shared the same idea. The Kingdom of Sicily had decent agricultural resources, but it needed more machinery to replace manpower in order to catch up with Italy.

Passing through an exhibition area, the three encountered a different sight: twenty sophisticated clockwork mechanisms were operating in sync, each displaying a different astronomical calendar. On the largest central armillary sphere, the twelve golden constellations slowly rotated along the ecliptic, while a mercury balance on the base kept the entire system perfectly level. "This is a new creation from the Isfahan Observatory," the guide proudly announced, "not only displaying the Persian, Gregorian, and Islamic calendars, but also predicting solar and lunar eclipses—the Royal Society of London just ordered three."

"This is really good," Franz thought, finding it incredible.

Naserdin Shah suddenly stopped in front of a crystal glass display case, which showcased the latest invention of the Tehran Royal Arms Factory—a uniquely shaped rifle. The stock was inlaid with Khorasan turquoise, and the tubular device attached to the lower part of the barrel made Franz frown. “This is…”

“A water-cooled repeating rifle,” the Iranian Director of Military Industry respectfully lifted the glass cover, “using a modified Austrian rotary bolt design, but with a cooling system that is our own creation.” He pressed a mechanism, and water immediately began circulating through the copper pipes around the barrel, steam hissing out from the vent. “In tests in the Basra Desert, it didn’t overheat even after firing two hundred rounds continuously.”

Franz wanted to say something more, but he held back. After all, it was all just speculation.

Near closing time, an unexpected demonstration captivated all the visitors. In the electricity exhibit, a bearded Iranian scientist, along with his assistant, operated a strange device capable of sending and receiving Persian telegrams. When the Morse code was converted into a gold-leaf-covered paper output, gasps erupted from the audience—the paper displayed a complete excerpt from the Avesta. "We have improved the encoding system of the Bodo telegraph," the scientist proudly announced, "and now it can transmit any Persian character with an error rate of less than three ten-thousandths." The scientist recounted his achievement.

As the sun set, the central fountain at the exposition suddenly illuminated with colorful lights. A specially crafted crystal prism by a Belgian glassmaker decomposed the kerosene lamp's glow into a dazzling rainbow, projecting traditional Persian geometric patterns onto the water screen. In the orchestra pit, a mixed orchestra, blending the Persian santur with European orchestral instruments, was playing a Persian Variations adapted from Mozart's "Turkish March." Three monarchs stood on the terrace, overlooking this magical scene, the sky behind them illuminated by a new product from the Royal Fireworks Factory—burning magnesium powder sketching a map of railway lines spanning Eurasia in the night sky, finally transforming into the pattern of the Shah's crown and slowly dissipating.

(End of this chapter)