The Rise of German empire

The room fell silent after the last speaker had finished his argument. The air was thick with tension, as William II sat at the head of the table, contemplating the weight of the decision before him. His gaze shifted from one minister to another, each waiting for his judgment.

"Your Excellency, Prime Minister, what do you think about the candidate for the new Crown Prince?" William II asked, his voice steady but laden with the gravity of the moment. His earlier unease was now evident. He had expected to face some opposition over the succession, but the depth of division was becoming more apparent with each passing moment.

Prime Minister Bernhard von Bülow, ever the cautious diplomat, cleared his throat before responding. "Your Majesty, His Royal Highness Prince Oscar has proven himself to be an individual of excellent ability and moral character. He is certainly a remarkable candidate. However, his position in the line of succession is problematic, as it is far too low. If Prince Oscar is appointed Crown Prince, I fear it may provoke significant dissent, though, of course, your will is paramount. If you decide upon Prince Oscar, even if there are objections, they will likely not cause irreparable damage."

In essence, Bülow's words were a silent endorsement of the monarch's will. His message was clear: while the law of succession was important, the ultimate decision lay with the Emperor, and if William II chose Oscar, the rest would follow.

William II mulled over Bülow's statement, but before he could speak, another voice interrupted him.

"Your Excellency, Minister of Foreign Affairs, what is your position on this matter?" William II turned his gaze to Von Kidren Wachter, his foreign affairs minister, seeking an alternative perspective.

Von Kidren Wachter, ever the pragmatist, adjusted his glasses and spoke cautiously. "Your Majesty, we are facing a very precarious international situation. The alliance between Britain, France, and Russia is growing stronger by the day. A succession dispute within the Empire could provoke external interference, especially from these nations, who would seize the opportunity to discredit us on the global stage."

William II's nostrils flared as he heard these words. He had no intention of allowing the internal affairs of the Empire to be influenced by foreign powers. "Hmph! The inheritance of the Empire is a matter for us alone. It is none of their business what we choose to do here!" he snapped, his tone dismissive of the concerns raised.

Von Kidren Wachter bowed his head, his message delivered, though it was clear that he understood the Emperor's resolve. There would be no further discussion on this point.

The Emperor's thoughts returned to the heart of the issue. The succession. The decision to make Oscar the Crown Prince, though widely supported by many, carried with it serious implications. Should he risk defying the legal framework of succession for the sake of an heir with greater capabilities? Was the law truly worth preserving at the cost of the Empire's future?

Marshal Count Tirpitz, who had been quietly watching the proceedings, felt the frustration building within him. He had believed that making Oscar the Crown Prince was a foregone conclusion. Tirpitz had pledged to Oscar that he would see the Prince ascend to the throne without interference, yet now the situation had become far more complicated than he had imagined. The objections from Moltke were not only unexpected but also dangerously effective in shifting the debate from capabilities to the letter of the law.

"Damn that little Moltke," Tirpitz muttered under his breath, "his selfishness threatens the very future of the Empire!"

The Marshal leaned forward, his voice firm. "Your Majesty, I must insist that we need a Crown Prince with exceptional abilities, especially given the looming threat of war. Prince Oscar is the right choice. His military and political acumen will be invaluable in securing the future of Germany. We cannot afford to place someone in the role who lacks the necessary qualities."

But as Tirpitz spoke, Moltke's voice rang out, cutting through the room. "Your Excellency, Count Tirpitz, I must respectfully disagree." The chief of staff's voice was cold, calculated. "Prince Oscar's abilities are undoubtedly commendable, but we must adhere to the law of succession. If we deviate from it now, it will set a dangerous precedent for the future. Even if Prince Oscar has proven his worth, his position in the succession line is far too low to justify such an appointment."

Moltke's words hung heavily in the room. He knew that by voicing such an opinion, he was risking the wrath of many, especially Marshal Tirpitz, but his loyalty to the law was unwavering. More importantly, he knew that his position was at stake. The promotion of Oscar to Crown Prince would destabilize the power dynamics within the military, and as chief of staff, Moltke was unwilling to relinquish his influence without a fight.

Just as Moltke prepared to elaborate further, another voice interrupted him.

"Your Majesty, I, too, believe that Prince Oscar is the best candidate to serve as Crown Prince. Though his position is low in the line of succession, the current situation demands extraordinary measures. If war comes, the Empire will need a leader with the strength to guide it through the storm. No one fits that description better than Prince Oscar. Even if his ascension violates the law, the survival of the Empire must be our top priority. And given his popularity, I believe any objections would be minimal."

The speaker was Minister of War, von Falkenhain, who had, until now, been quiet. Like Marshal Tirpitz, he recognized the importance of having a capable heir at the helm, especially as the Empire teetered on the edge of war. Unlike the naval and military factions, however, Falkenhain had other motivations. His rivalry with Moltke had long simmered beneath the surface, and the opportunity to weaken the chief of staff's position was too tempting to ignore.

Moltke's eyes narrowed in anger as Falkenhain spoke. He had not anticipated a betrayal from his own ranks, but now, it seemed, the tide had turned against him. The Army was split, and Falkenhain had seized the moment to align himself with Tirpitz, both of whom now seemed determined to push Oscar's ascension forward.

Marshal Tirpitz chuckled quietly to himself, sensing the shift in momentum. He had managed to rally enough support to tip the scales in favor of Oscar, and it seemed that the Emperor was now leaning toward his side. William II had always valued the counsel of his military leaders, and it was clear that they had made their case with precision and passion.

William II sighed deeply, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. The arguments for and against Oscar were compelling, but in the end, it was clear that the situation demanded an extraordinary solution. The Empire's survival was at stake, and in such times, extraordinary measures were sometimes necessary.