The Rise of German empire

Oscar stepped into the royal palace's garden with a calm demeanor, but his mind raced. His earlier conversation with Carl about Crown Prince William's growing dissatisfaction with him echoed in his mind. Crown Prince William's jealousy was well-known, and now, with Oscar's rise in fortune and power, it seemed inevitable that trouble would come from the royal family. Still, Oscar was resolute; no matter how much power the crown prince held, he was not yet the emperor, and Oscar would not let the prince's threats unsettle him.

The atmosphere within the palace was one of grand formality, yet beneath the polished surface of royal decorum, tensions simmered. Oscar made his way through the halls, his footsteps measured and steady, to the gathering place where the family traditionally assembled before the Christmas Eve banquet. He knew the royal family well enough to recognize that tonight's event would not be simple familial warmth and celebration. It would be rife with calculated gestures, political maneuvering, and veiled jabs, especially considering the growing rift between him and Crown Prince William.

As he entered the large, opulently decorated room, the sight of the royal family gathered made him pause. The Queen, a figure of grace despite her age, stood at the center, talking quietly with Prince Ethel Friedrich. Crown Prince William lounged on a chaise, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, constantly scanning the room with a look of quiet superiority. The other princes—Prince Albert, Prince August William, and Prince Joachim—were scattered around, engaged in casual conversations that seemed more like polite exchanges than true camaraderie. Princess Victoria Louise, youthful and cheerful, was seated near her mother, watching the interactions with wide, innocent eyes.

Oscar's arrival did not go unnoticed. The Queen glanced up and gave him a small but formal nod. "Oscar, you're late, but it is not surprising, given your recent successes," she remarked, her voice mild but not without a trace of coolness.

"Your Highness, I'm sorry for being late," Oscar said, bowing his head slightly. His tone was polite, but there was an underlying edge of defiance. He had never quite fit in with the royal family, and every occasion like this only served to remind him of the gulf that separated him from them, despite his own wealth and power.

However, before he could settle into his place, a voice rang out, cutting through the formalities. "Who doesn't know that Oscar is already famous as the big boss of the entire German Empire, so it's understandable to be late," Crown Prince William's sneering words made the air crackle with tension.

Oscar looked up, his eyes locking with those of the Crown Prince. It was clear from the mockery in William's voice that he had not come to this event to simply enjoy the festivities. His posture alone, slouched yet still exuding a sense of power, suggested that he had been waiting for an opportunity to strike.

The other princes exchanged glances, some with slight smiles that betrayed their jealousy, others with subtle discomfort. Only Princess Louise seemed oblivious, her gaze darting from face to face, unaware of the undercurrents of animosity.

Oscar was not the type to back down from a challenge, especially when he had nothing to fear. Standing tall, he shot back with a biting remark. "Your Highness, I'm no more likely than you to inherit the entire empire. But if I don't act quickly, after you take the throne, perhaps I won't be pleasing to the eye, and I might find myself kicked out of the palace. Who knows?"

The silence that followed was thick with tension. It wasn't a bold threat, but a statement of fact, a subtle reminder of the vast differences between him and William. The Crown Prince's face darkened at the implication that Oscar could easily leave the empire if things went sour. His arrogance, once unchecked, faltered for a moment.

The other princes shifted uncomfortably, well aware of the volatile nature of their future under William's rule. They were jealous of Oscar's wealth and influence, but they knew that any open conflict with the Crown Prince could be disastrous. It was a delicate balance, one where Oscar had the upper hand.

"Enough, both of you. You are brothers, not enemies," the Queen intervened sharply, her voice cutting through the standoff like a knife. "Oscar, take your seat. Let's not make a scene today."

Although the Queen's words were meant to defuse the situation, they only added to the growing tension. As Oscar returned to his seat, the air was thick with unspoken animosity. William's gaze never left him, and Oscar could feel the simmering hatred behind those cold, calculating eyes. Yet, he did not care. He had learned long ago that power lay in wealth, not titles. As long as he controlled the money, he controlled his fate.

The dinner proceeded with the usual royal airs. Waiters brought in exquisite dishes, each more elaborate than the last, while the family exchanged pleasantries, each conversation a carefully crafted performance. Oscar remained quiet, not participating in the small talk, his mind focused on his goals. He didn't need their approval, and he certainly didn't need their approval to feel superior. He was already beyond them, in terms of wealth, influence, and intellect.

But Crown Prince William was not one to let things slide. After a few moments of forced politeness, he spoke again, his voice laced with venom. "Oscar, Christmas is upon us. What gift have you prepared for your mother? We have already given ours."

His words were a direct challenge, meant to provoke Oscar into some sort of response. Everyone's eyes turned to him, the room's attention now squarely on him. For a moment, Oscar felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. But he knew this was not just about gifts—it was another way for William to assert his dominance.

With a slow smile, Oscar rose from his seat. "Mother, how could I forget your gift?" he said, his tone warm and sincere as he turned to the Queen. "Please accept this necklace, one I carefully selected for you."

He opened his suitcase and revealed the stunning diamond necklace. It was a masterpiece, a glittering creation of 108 diamonds, each more perfect than the last. The room was stunned into silence as the diamonds caught the light, casting a sparkling reflection across the room.

The Queen's expression softened, the hardened edge of her earlier coldness replaced with genuine affection. "Oscar, you are such a good boy," she said, her voice warm. Her eyes, once distant, now looked at him with a newfound appreciation. It was a small victory for Oscar, one that he savored deeply.

The rest of the royal family was less impressed, though some could not hide their jealousy. Princess Louise, always eager for attention, pouted. "Brother Oscar, what about me?" she asked, her voice filled with playful innocence.

Oscar laughed, his tone light. "Ah, of course, how could I forget our lovely Princess Louise?" He reached into his suitcase once more and pulled out another necklace, smaller but no less beautiful. This one was a simpler design, though still valuable, a perfect complement to the one he had given the Queen.

"Thank you, brother Oscar!" Princess Louise exclaimed, her earlier frustration forgotten as she beamed at her gift.

For a brief moment, the room's tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of warmth. But Crown Prince William's gaze remained fixed on Oscar, his hatred barely concealed behind a mask of politeness. This Christmas Eve had not gone as he had hoped, but it was clear to everyone in the room that Oscar had won the first round.

As the evening wore on, the family continued their dinner, but the unspoken rivalry between Crown Prince William and Oscar had only just begun. Neither of them would easily back down, and this royal banquet would be remembered as the night when the seeds of a much larger conflict were sown.