The Rise of German empire

Oscar's heart raced as he faced the growing tension in Dean Ludwig Birkenhagen's office. The dean's frosty gaze seemed to pierce through him, his silence a sign that his patience was running thin. If Birkenhagen contacted William II and reported his refusal, all of Oscar's efforts would have been for nothing. But Oscar couldn't back down now. He had to convince the dean that his request was not only reasonable but beneficial to the future of the German Navy.

"Your Excellency, please listen to my explanation," Oscar said quickly, trying to buy more time.

The old dean regarded him coldly, his disapproval evident in every line of his face. "If it weren't for your identity, I wouldn't be wasting my time with such nonsense. You should leave the Kiel Naval Academy immediately," Birkenhagen replied, his voice dripping with contempt.

Oscar wasn't deterred. He took a deep breath and continued, determined to make his case. "Perhaps you see the four years spent here as a great way to improve a person's abilities. But in my view, those four years are a waste of time. Am I supposed to stay here for four years, only to graduate and serve as a second lieutenant?" he asked, his words aimed directly at Birkenhagen's pride.

The reaction was immediate. The dean's face turned red with fury, his hands trembling with barely contained anger. "His Royal Highness, shut up! If you have no intention of joining the navy, then I won't force you. But don't you dare insult the navy like that! It is the countless second lieutenants who graduated from this academy that support the strength of the German Navy!" Birkenhagen snapped, his voice rising.

Oscar quickly realized his mistake. "I'm sorry, Dean, I misspoke," he said, bowing his head slightly in apology. But he wasn't going to back down; he had to make Birkenhagen see his point. "However, with all due respect, while I understand that the German navy is catching up, the gap with the British navy isn't just narrowing—it's widening. The British control most of the world's colonies, exploiting their wealth to fund their navy. But what does Germany have? Our geography forces us to prioritize the army, meaning our navy will always struggle to match the British in terms of investment."

Dean Birkenhagen's face hardened again, but he didn't interrupt. He was an old man who had dedicated decades to the navy, and deep down, he knew what Oscar said was true. The German navy, despite its efforts, couldn't compete with Britain's imperial resources. The realization that he had spent his life building a navy that could never truly challenge the British was a bitter one.

Still, he wouldn't admit it. "Yes, our enemy is powerful. But the German navy will never surrender. We will grow stronger, and we will defeat the British one day," the dean said stubbornly, clinging to hope.

Oscar nodded but didn't share the same optimism. "I believe that with everyone's efforts, the German navy will indeed grow stronger. But defeating the British is another matter entirely. With their wealth, they can build a fleet twice as large as ours. The balance of naval power is shifting, and unless we can match their capital ships, our chances of victory remain slim. In modern naval warfare, luck no longer plays a significant role. We need more than hope—we need resources."

Birkenhagen's lips tightened, and he glanced away. Despite his pride, he knew the truth. Germany, with all its potential, would struggle to keep pace with the British navy. The disparity between their fleets wasn't just a matter of numbers; it was a question of national resources, industrial capacity, and financial investment. As the two men stood in silence, Carl, who had been listening quietly, asked a question that seemed to hang in the air like a shadow.

"Your Highness, is there no hope for Germany?" Carl asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Oscar turned to him, his expression hardening. "There is hope, but it requires a different approach. If we can build more capital ships—ships that can decisively crush the British navy—we can level the playing field. But without the necessary funding, we'll never be able to compete in terms of numbers. And that's why I don't want to waste four years at this academy. The time spent here could be better used to secure the resources we need for the navy."

Dean Birkenhagen frowned deeply, his face betraying a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. "Your Highness, even if we agree that we need more ships, how can you—someone who's unwilling to join the navy—help with that? The government won't fund a fleet to compete with the British at your request."

Oscar's eyes gleamed with resolve. "That's where I come in. If I can contribute the funds for a battleship—if I can promise to donate the resources necessary to construct one—will you agree to my request? Will you allow me to forgo the daily studies in the academy, to come in only for the exams, so I can focus on acquiring the funds?"

The room fell silent as both Birkenhagen and Carl absorbed the magnitude of Oscar's offer. It was audacious, almost reckless, but it was also a masterstroke. By offering to fund a battleship, Oscar was proposing a solution to the very problem they all faced: the lack of resources.

For a moment, Dean Birkenhagen said nothing. His sharp mind weighed the offer. It was unorthodox, to say the least, but the idea of having a battleship funded by the royal family, even if indirectly, was a tantalizing prospect. It would mean a significant boost to Germany's naval power—something that would be hard to turn down.

Finally, the dean spoke, his voice measured but still laced with skepticism. "A battleship… in exchange for your request?" He paused, clearly struggling with the idea. "This is unprecedented, Your Highness. But… I suppose we have no choice but to consider it."

Oscar gave a slight nod, knowing that he had just made a dangerous but potentially game-changing move.