The Coronation of Emperor Otto V
“The crowning of a Roman emperor in Frankfurt was certainly one of the most august and at the same time magnificent spectacles that the world has ever seen. Everything down to the minutest details spoke to the spirit and the heart, through the power of the tradition as well as through the aggregation of so much splendor. “
The death of the beloved Emperor Karl VIII came as a shock to the wider public. While many within the Kaiser’s inner circle had known that he had been struggling with health issues for many years, this had been carefully concealed in order to mitigate possible panic. The compounding issues of internal struggles, personal losses, and the outbreak of war had proved too much to bear. Karl’s funeral was held on Sunday, October 24th, one week after his death, and the attendees were such that the Imperial City was full to bursting. The streets and alleys were clogged with black-clothed citizens, mourning for both their Sovereign and the ending of an era. The age of war had come to bear.
Hundreds of kilometers to the northwest, the city of Frankfurt stood as a rock upon which the tides of revolution broke. Farther west, the First Imperial Field Army lay trapped, fighting a desperate defense against assault on all sides.
The Succession
The time between the death of an emperor and the accession of a new one is fraught with a number of dangers. This was clearly demonstrated in regards to The Holy Roman Empire within living memory. After the death of the extremely popular and long-lived Emperor Franz Josef in 1918, his nephew, Franz Ferdinand was set to take the throne. However, as much as the empire portrays itself as a benevolent enlightened autocracy, its many constituent nations have their own interests and influence. So it was then that a crisis began almost immediately as to the coronation of the new emperor.
“It is our firm belief that the accession of the Archduke to the Imperial throne would give us cause to refuse any oath of loyalty unto him, and therefore unto this empire. The purpose of a monarch is to ensure the safety and prosperity of his people, and under his reign, it is obvious that the state would be bent to the oppression and denigration of our rights and dignity.”
While it was largely kept within the chambers of the Reichshofrat, the Crisis of 1918 came very close to causing the dissolution of large parts of the Empire. In the end, Franz Ferdinand abdicated his claim in favor of the much more popular Karl. Though he was privately intensely bitter about this series of events, the Archduke publicly extolled the virtues of his nephew and the importance of the unity of the empire. There were serious concerns about the possibility of this happening again upon the accession of Otto to the throne. Because of this and the delicate nature of the situation, the War Council met with the Prince the night after Emperor Karl’s passing. The conversation that took place that night was not recorded, nor were its contents shared by those who partook, but there are several important occurrences that almost certainly were its result.
Two days later it was announced that Otto would be crowned Duke of Austria in Vienna, assuming the primary titles of his father. Notably, it was also stated that at this coronation he would also assume all other major titles save that of Emperor. There would be no progress to the different constituent nations for coronation or inauguration. Moreover, as a letter directly from the war council stated shortly thereafter, the assemblies of all territories of the Empire were required to swear their oaths of loyalty immediately in front of the delegates sent to them.
As notably documented by the Czech National Assembly, these delegates, in the past simply representatives of the Kaiser, were this time accompanied by a full platoon of Panzergrenadiers in gleaming Powered Armor, carrying loaded weapons. The bargaining that almost always takes place before the coronation did not happen. No demands were made of the new Kaiser, nor were complaints read out before him, nor was he reminded of the ancient obligations of his family towards the people of the Empire, save for the few lines read to him during the coronation rites.
Otto had foregone many of the oaths typically sworn by his ancestors. Many of which formed the basis of a great deal of Imperial Law. And so, on the 24th of October, less than a week from the death of his father, in front of the rolling cameras of the Kaiserliches und Königliches Rundspruchwesen (KKR, The state broadcasting agency), the first of many crowns was placed upon his head. Afterward, the oaths of loyalty from each Imperial nation were broadcast for every citizen to see.
Ecclesiastic Escape
By antique charter, the coronation of the Emperor is a right held by the Archbishops of Mainz or Köln. Per a disagreement in the mid-17th century, the two churchmen took turns exercising this privilege. Karl VIII had been crowned in 1918 by Archbishop Georg Heinrich Kirstein of Mainz, therefore this honor was the right of Archbishop and Cardinal Karl Joseph Schulte of Köln. However, the fulfillment of tradition, as per usual, caused complications. Due to the encirclement of the Köln pocket, reaching the Archbishop proved difficult.
On the morning of the 25th of November, the forces of the 6th Imperial Field Army, under the command of Field Marshal Henri Winkelman, launched a full assault upon the entrenched French forces at Leverkusen. This attack came as a complete surprise, as the New Republic’s High Command was under the impression that the majority of these units were engaged in the defense of Nijmegen. Despite this, the fighting was ferocious. The French 8th Infantry Division, a veteran division who could trace their unit legacy back to the Italian Wars, had dug in deep in the gap and were determined to hold. In order to buy more time, the division’s sappers purposefully collapsed the shafts they were digging into Köln and Dusseldorf, creating a network of deep ravines throughout the combat zone, jamming up all attempts to move heavy machinery in or out.
After 15 hours of fighting, the lion banner of the 8th still flew in Leverkusen. Unit reports estimate that nearly 60% of the division was lost in the fighting, but their position held. Imperial forces had been redirected to the east and attempted another push. While the first assault was ongoing, the extraction of the Archbishop took place. Inserting into the besieged city center aerially, Strike Team Jankau located and loaded the aged ecclesiastic - along with several other ranking churchmen as redundancies - onto their zeppelin. Due to the sensitive nature of their mission and the tight timeline they operated on, the Archbishop only understood what was taking place half an hour after they had left the city. He was less than enthused to learn that he would soon be reentering a city under fire.
A Train through Shattered Plains
In preparation for the journey, one of the Kaiser’s trains was taken into one of the workshops of the Škoda corporation and fitted all over with armored plate. While this reduced its maximum speed, this was seen as a valuable trade-off, given that the vehicle would already be moving relatively slowly due to the freshly repaired track it was intended to ride. High-quality Shield Generators were installed, along with firing positions for the accompanying guards in case the worst happened.
The morning of the 28th the train, loaded down with members of the imperial family as well as two separate cars for the press, left the station in Vienna, bound at last for Frankfurt. In order to document the journey cameras were mounted and manned all across the vehicle. In total across the 17 cars, the train carried nearly one hundred people. Accompanying the train were four companies of the Viennese Imperial Guard, two squadrons of Panzerzeppelins, and the SMS Sankt Georg, a Kriegsäther armored cruiser escort. The footage taken as the train rolled through the central empire revealed the startling transformation much of the land had undergone in short order. As they approached the front, military equipment and personnel began to dominate the film, and black smoke grew on the horizon.
As the armored train rumbled to the front, a team of saboteurs made for the train. Organized as part of the Imperial Liberation Front, an outlawed political party that shared many of the French Liberation Party’s ideals, they snuck onto a rail bridge near the town of Kitzengen. Working quickly, they laid a series of charges along the bridge. While it seems that they had originally intended to detonate the charges underneath the Kaiser’s train, their plan was derailed. Around 3 am on the 29th a different train, charged with inspecting the condition of the tracks, arrived at the bridge. Thinking that this was their target, the saboteurs detonated the charges, bringing the bridge and locomotive crashing down into the Main river. Due to the inspectors not making their expected report, the crash was discovered in short order. The crew had all been killed either in the crash or by their attackers shortly thereafter. The saboteurs were nowhere to be found.
This complication caused the Kaiser’s train to be delayed significantly. For most of the 29th it sat motionless on the rails less than twenty kilometers from the frontlines. Within an hour the news had gotten out that the heir to the throne was on the train, and a crowd grew. Several units of the Imperial Landwehr VIII Corps billeted nearby came to investigate. Much to the displeasure of both his entourage and guards, as dawn broke Otto dismounted the train to personally greet and talk with his subjects.
Captain Nikola Krizomalija of the SMS Sankt Georg was alarmed by these developments and began sweeping the area around the stranded train. However, due to the front lines being somewhat amorphous, he made a significant error. Keeping the aethership low to the ground in order to better survey for threats, the SMS Sankt Georg crossed over the front line. As it did this, they were brought within relatively close range of several anti-aethership batteries hidden in a nearby stand of trees. Around 7 am on the 29th the ship was fired upon and struck by eleven separate shells, rupturing her shield and causing significant damage. She turned her guns on the stand of trees, unleashing a reprisal salvo that brought down at least two of the batteries. Despite this, the batteries continued firing and scored 6 more direct hits before she could limp back across the line of safety. The damage disabled two of her secondary engines as well as her lower forward primary gun turret and several casemated guns.
Hearing the exchange of fire all important persons were rushed back into the safety of the Kaiser’s train, and orders were given for the VIII Corps to move back up to the line at once. Reports of the situation were relayed to Admiral-of-the-Fleet Emil Uzelac, who was present on the ground and witnessed the return of the SMS Sankt Georg. He made an executive decision and ordered a full deployment of the Imperial Aetherfleet. The first of its kind since the beginning of the conflict. The orders given to them were simple. Leave no surprises.
Later that day, as the line was repaired and the train began to roll again, the hulking masses of the fleet arrived overhead, and the steel rain began.
“As we passed through the corridor we entered hell on Earth. All around us the land was burnt and broken. The trees were cut down waist-height by shells, bullets, or bolts. In the distance, the thunder of artillery rolled, and the horizon glowed with the fury of our warships. What I have witnessed here is the total obliteration of civilization. Fields replaced with trenches, trees replaced with shattered matchsticks. The towns were often nothing more than husks, mere facsimiles of buildings.”
In total, of the 84 warships of the K.u.k. Kriegsäther, 50 of them were deployed in this action. The bombardment ordered by Admiral Ezelac was wide-ranging and largely indiscriminate. All areas suspected of harboring enemy positions within 5 kilometers of the corridor were methodically pummeled into ash. The suddenness and ferocity of the attack caused the commanders of many of the French units stationed on the line to sound a general retreat, or be caught in a hail of artillery.
With this backdrop, the train continued down its set path. Its passengers were glued to their viewports. For many of them, this was their first time seeing the reality of the war. The most shocking aspect of all of this, however, were the massive columns of civilians slowly trudging in the opposite direction. Due to the destruction of many roads, fuel shortages, and the intense security placed on the rail lines, evacuation on foot was often the only option left to non-combatants caught in the line of fire.
Austriae Est Imperare Orbi Universo
“The city center of Frankfurt was remarkably intact despite the relentless bombardment it had received for nearly two months. The city’s impressive shield generator had kept it mostly safe, but the portions that lay outside of its protective dome had long since been reduced to rubble. Most shocking however was the ruined hulk of the SMS München. The massive form of the felled warship lay with its bow on the east and its stern on the west of the Main River. In the center of the river, the ship had broken in two. The München’s twisting structural beams formed a mess of steel and cabling that resembled nothing so much as the entrails of some great beast, spilling out into the river and poisoning everything around it. A thick layer of green Cavorine gas hung low around the city. As our train passed, soldiers looked up at us through glass lenses. Their uniforms and armor, caked with mud and dust from the destroyed buildings, shuffling through the streets, barely registered as human anymore."
The night of the 29th of November the armored train finally arrived at the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof. The soon-to-be Kaiser was met with a full military band, along with all senior officers present in the city in full dress uniform. Due to the delays, they had spent seven hours waiting for his arrival.
Otto and his entourage spent that night in the city’s grand hotel, which had been meticulously maintained despite the situation. Outside the hotel, the Kaiserplatz was decorated for the event. Over the previous weeks, great effort had been spent to repair all important buildings in the city so as to present a good image.
The typical fashion for a ceremony such as an Imperial Coronation is for the entire event to be extravagantly long, for the attendants to be lavishly accoutered, and for the location to be bathed in gold. The Imperial Dome of Saint Bartholomew, while undeniably beautiful, had not been subjected to the typical treatment. By the standards of the House von Habsburg, this was a somber affair. The coronation mass began shortly before noon on November 30th, the feast day of St. Andrew the Apostle. In the footage of the event captured by the KKR, as the Reichskrone was placed by Cardinal Schulte on the new Kaiser’s head, the sound of artillery hammering the city’s shield generator can be faintly heard in the background. As Otto swore his ancient oaths, he stated his solemn intent to bring lasting peace to Europe, under the double eagle banner.
Thus he was proclaimed. His Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty, Otto the Fifth. By the Grace of God anointed Roman Emperor, Protector of the Faith, ever Increaser of the Realm and King in Germania.
Having been so acclaimed, Otto surprised those in attendance by ordering Colonel-General Ludvík Krejčí and his staff forward. He informed them that in recognition of their great service to the realm, they were to be inducted into the Order of the Golden Fleece, an ancient chivalric order. The Oath Cross of the order had been brought from Vienna and would remain in the Imperial Dome until such time as the city was no longer in danger.
Skies of Fire
The massive number of nobles gathered in Frankfurt proved to be too tempting of a target for the High Command of The New French Republic. Due to the number of fronts they were facing opposition on, taking advantage of the situation by land was deemed untenable. However, with more units being raised each day, it was only a matter of time before the assault on Frankfurt began anew. A plan was therefore drawn up to attempt to trap the new Kaiser in the city. Their aetherfleet set out on the warpath, intending to close the corridor and strike a decisive blow.
The presence of the Imperial fleet above the corridor posed a problem. The Imperial ships were newer, more armored, and had superior shielding. However, they were also slower, less numerous, and had green crews. The flagship of the fleet, the SMS Karl der Große had been launched in April of that year and had barely finished her shakedown period. The French fleet deployed in this action consisted of 78 ships of the line, mostly destroyers and cruisers, but with 18 full battleships, and, notably, a carrier, the Faucon.
The fleets approached each other on the evening of the 30th. The French Admiral Henri Bléhaut deployed a scouting group of destroyers in conjunction with one airwing towards Miltenburg. Though reports placed the main body of the Imperial fleet east of the position somewhere near Helmstadt, the French fleet made for Aschaffenburg with intent to level the town and close the land route out of Frankfurt. Around 4:30 pm the scouting group met with the Imperial destroyer SMS Sankt Stephen near the town of Laudenbach. The first shots of the battle were fired here, as the group’s attached airwing made for the enemy ship. Nearby anti-aircraft batteries opened up on the French group as they entered Imperial territory, filling the sky with flak.
Admiral Wolfgang von Tirpitz, aboard the SMS Karl der Große, ordered the Imperial fleet to abandon their patrol sectors, which they had been studiously pummeling into ash for hours, and form up around the flag as he made for the reported contact. Swinging the main body of the fleet north in an arc, he readied to meet the foe above Mainhausen. Due to the majority of this trajectory taking place over French-controlled territory, he ordered the fleet to raise up into the outer atmosphere. The Imperial Zeppelin fleet could not join them in this maneuver, so they instead were ordered to form a line along the Main River and wheel around from the south.
Ground forces on both sides were readied for battle. The Imperial infantry dug in on the southeastern part of the corridor were ordered to begin intense artillery bombardment on sectors of the line that had previously been declared clear. While this did not result in any ground gained, it did preserve the illusion that the Imperial fleet was still engaged in their bombardment for the half-hour needed for the fleet’s repositioning. In the meantime, the fixed-wing air forces of both nations scrambled to get their planes in the sky.
As the French fleet closed in on Aschaffenberg, the Imperials left Mainhausen, descending to where the two main bodies met for the first time. The battleship action was opened with a shot from the battleship SMS Styria’s magnetic springald cannon, which scored a hit, gutting the cruiser Turenne, and leaving it burning in the air. The other Imperial vessels followed suit, but due to the extreme difficulty of aiming a Mag-spring in atmosphere, at relatively close range, and in a short period of time, the majority of the shots went wide. Betting on their shields and armor, the Imperials continued to close.
As the batteries of Aschaffenberg began to open up on the French, Admiral Bléhaut ordered a withdrawal over less hostile territory, turning his ships together towards Schaafheim. The two fleets continued to pummel each other during this run to the south, however no significant losses were made. That changed around 5:25, as a French dive bomber wing pulled off a maneuver previously theorized, but unattempted. The wing came down upon the SMS Carinthia, namesake of her class. Pulling up at the last second, they reduced their overall speed almost entirely, releasing a series of Balfour-Amplified High Explosive (BAHE) bombs that passed through the Carinthia’s shields without effort. Once through, the circuits in these bombs burned hot, pulling them down through the Carinthia’s top decks with 10 times Earth’s gravity. The bombs sunk deep into the battleship before detonating, setting off a chain reaction inside the ship’s magazines. She was lost with all hands. While several of the French pilots had not pulled up in time and were in turn broken on the shield, the maneuver proved to be a shocking success.
With the surprise loss of the SMS Carinthia, Admiral Tirpitz grew furious, and more than a little worried about the outcome of the battle. He ordered all available aircraft to focus the other on their French counterparts and leave the heavyweight battle to his fleet. The fleets, formed into two great lines in the sky, traded shots over vast distances. However, in terms of fleet actions, this was the equivalent of a knife fight. These ships were built to engage each other in the aether, but both had objectives that required them to stay close to the ground. At ranges such as these, the losses proved astronomical.
The Battle of Schaafheim was visible for kilometers in all directions, and audible even further. The Kaiser and his entourage observed the battle from Frankfurt itself. The two fleets, locked in a titanic struggle, continued the battle into the night. Burning ships hung in the air, and then slowly fell to earth, raining steel and cavorite throughout the area. The devastation caused by this was such that the French ground forces holding the sectors underneath began evacuating south towards Mannheim.
At 1 am, a shot from the SMS Karl der Große cored the carrier Faucon, causing severe fires and rendering her flight deck unusable. At this time, having suffered so much damage, Admiral Bléhaut made the decision to withdraw fully. As his ships made to leave, the Imperial fleet did not give chase. In truth, the Imperial fleet had taken heavy losses, and were very nearly out of ammunition, having spent large parts of their magazines in ground support operations. In total, the Imperial fleet had fully lost eighteen vessels to the French twenty-five. Worse still, many of the ships not technically lost were damaged so severely that they were essentially crippled. While the battle was, in technicality, an Imperial victory, it reinforced both sides’ doctrine of avoiding open battle.
A Poisoned Land
Forty-three ships were lost in the Battle of Schaafheim. Forty-three wrecks burned in the fields of Hesse. These wrecks tore massive craters as they fell, and then they sat, spewing Cavorine gas as they burned. The gas built and spread, carried on the wind, far from them, and lingered in the air for months. For nearly twenty-four kilometers in all directions of Schaafheim, nature choked and died. Entire villages, caught without protective equipment, fell dead in the iridescent shimmer of the gas. The plants curled and the birds fell from the sky. From Miltenberg to Darmstadt and over to Frankfurt the land was rendered lifeless aside from the masked and hooded soldiers, who returned to their trenches within hours of the battle ending.
On the evening of the 1st of December, the Kaiser’s train left Frankfurt to journey back to the safety of Vienna. The columns of fleeing civilians are notably absent from the footage of this return journey.
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