Winter crept toward Germany like a slow, white tide.
A thin frost kissed the palace windows. Chimneys smoked day and night. The wet cold seeped into stone, into bones, into the very air of Berlin.
In a corner of the royal residence, however, one room was bright and warm—lamplight glowing, curtains drawn, the atmosphere thick with tea steam and the nervous tension of a secret council.
In Oskar's own words, this was the first meeting of the soon-to-be-mighty:
Oskar Industrial Group
They sat around a low table with steaming cups in front of them, poured and served by Tanya herself—Oskar's secret girlfriend, who was entirely unaware that in his mind she was already "Senior Executive of Everything."
The members were arranged almost by height.
First was Karl von Jonarett, the dwarf, shortest at the table, suit neatly pressed. General Manager of the German Welfare Lottery and unofficial "man who makes Oskar's madness into paperwork."
Next was Tanya Adelheid Bauer, in her maid's uniform, cheeks pink, hands folded in her lap, trying very hard not to look like someone who had spent the night in the prince's bed. On paper, she had no qualifications to be here. In reality, she was:
emotionally intelligent,
ambitious,
intuitive,
good at managing people,
extremely good at managing one specific prince,
…and, according to Oskar, future CEO of a company called Kleine Engel Werke—Little Angel Works.
Then came Hans Albrecht, former coal miner, now in a too-stiff suit that didn't quite know his body yet. His broad hands still looked like they belonged around a pickaxe, not a teacup. His face was worn, older than thirty-two, eyes wary and overwhelmed.
He was now the official head of Albrecht Sicherheitswerke—Albrecht Safety Works—a company fully funded with his lottery winnings and built on Oskar's helmet designs.
The company had only modest success so far: most factory owners were not eager to spend money on protecting workers they considered replaceable. That, Oskar fully intended to change.
And lastly, at the head of the table, sat Oskar himself.
For once, he actually looked like a Prince:
clean, thanks to Tanya,
hair cut short and combed back,
uniform pressed,
faint smell of soap instead of sewage,
posture tall, shoulders broad, eyes bright like a man about to explain a conspiracy theory to three trapped listeners.
He slapped a stack of papers down on the table.
"My brothers and sister," he said grandly. "Figuratively speaking, yes."
He nodded to each of them.
"We are gathered today for the first meeting of… Oskar Industrial Group. Soon to be very big, very important for Germany. Big business, big balls—uh, big plans, yes."
Karl and Hans exchanged a look.
Tanya's eyes sparkled. She loved it when he got that "world domination, but in a nice way" expression.
Oskar went on.
"Winter is coming," he said. "Cold is bad. Good German people become sick people. Not just in Germany—everywhere. Babies cry and poop in bad diapers, suck on dirty bottles, get sick, go to Man in Clouds too early. Women suffer every month. Blood. Pain. Ruined clothes."
He gestured at Hans.
"Hans tries to help miners so rocks do not crush heads, but still many bad accidents. Also—" He slapped his chest. "—Germany has no gym. No place to make muscles big right way. No Pump World. Dangerous. Weakness. I do not accept."
He spread his arms, giving a little flex.
"Germany needs rescuing."
Hans blinked slowly.
Karl rubbed his temples.
Tanya sat a little straighter, impressed by how much more fluid his German had become… even if the content was still insane.
"Today," Oskar declared, "we make plan to save Germany. We start full industrial empire. We begin with three big businesses."
Karl sighed quietly.
"This is going to be more work for me, isn't it?" he muttered.
Oskar pointed to Hans.
1) Hans & Pump World
"Hans, my man," Oskar said. "Your helmets—very good. Very strong. Gloves, boots—also good. Many heads and toes will thank you."
Hans nodded, a bit embarrassed.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"Now," Oskar continued, "we make more. You will sell helmets to all factories, all mines, all railways. And Karl will help. Also…" He held up three fingers. "You give me sixty percent of your company shares. Then you can tell people: 'Buy my helmet or Prince loses karma points.' Germans love feeling moral, yes. Business grows."
Hans stiffened slightly.
He had used almost all of his prize money to build the factory, buy machines, hire workers. Giving sixty percent away—on top of already being tied to the prince—felt like a lot.
"Your Highness," Hans began carefully, "I… am grateful for everything you've done. But giving up sixty percent… it is a very large—"
"Don't worry, my man," Oskar said, already pushing new sketches across the table.
On the top sheet was something that looked, to Hans, like a strange wooden ramp with rollers.
"This is…?" Hans asked cautiously.
"Running floor," Oskar said proudly. "You walk, but you do not move. Machine moves. You stay inside where warm. Good fitness. No cold. Perfect for Germans who hate running in snow."
Hans squinted.
"You… want me to build this?"
"Yes," Oskar said, eyes blazing. "This, and other machines. We put them in new place called Pump World. A gym. First one near palace so I can go train every day."
He stood up, chest out.
"Big hall. Many iron. Many machines. People pay membership each month to use. Men get strong and dangerous. Women get… hot and spicy. Then we get good fathers and good mothers. Strong children. Strong nation. I teach personally. I show people how to lift iron like Hercules."
Karl blinked.
He'd seen some of the sketches in the diary—but hearing it spoken out loud, it actually sounded… promising.
Tanya stared at her hands, cheeks burning at the "hot and spicy" comment, wondering how exactly he intended to make women into "good baby mamas."
Hans looked like he'd been dropped into an alien workshop.
"Well," he said slowly, "with proper engineers and machinists, I suppose we could construct this… running floor. And the other devices. But the cost—"
"Yes, my man!" Oskar said. "You make all gym machines. All. Rowing machine. Pulling machine. Squat rack. Bars with round iron plates. I buy from you. Pump World buys from you. We all get rich. You get more money than coal ever gave you."
Hans hesitated.
His safety equipment company was still small, still trying to prove its worth to owners who didn't value workers' lives. And now the prince wanted to tie him to some dream of iron palaces for exercise?
But he also wanted:
safer workers,
stronger men,
a better life for his children,
…not just money.
He thought of the helmet factory and the treadmill sketch side by side.
At last he nodded.
"I will try my—"
Oskar cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"No, Hans. No 'try'. There is no try. Only do or do not."
Hans blinked.
Such simple, strange words—but they hit harder than some sermons.
He straightened.
"Then I will do it, Your Highness. I will make your vision real."
Oskar slapped his shoulder in approval, nearly knocking him off his chair.
"My man," he said.
Hans coughed, rubbing his aching shoulder, but he was smiling.
2) Tanya & Kleine Engel Werke
Then Oskar turned to Tanya.
"Tanya, my woman," he said.
She immediately went scarlet, as if he'd just proposed to her in front of everyone.
"You are woman," he said seriously. "Women clean, take care, cook, keep house, care for babies and… many things I do not understand. You know these matters."
Karl quietly pressed a hand to his face.
Hans stared politely at the ceiling.
Oskar forged onward.
"You know women suffer every month. Pain. Blood. Underwear destroyed. Also babies now use bad diapers. Slow. Dirty. Not healthy. Hygiene bad. Many babies die. You told me this," he added, and he was right—she had complained more than once about how hard it was for poor mothers.
"So," Oskar continued, "we must make better diapers. Cloth diapers that are faster to use. More clean. Also"—he pointed at her—"pads for women. Sanitary pads, yes. And better baby bottles. Soft nipple, easy to clean. Also: shampoo. Better toilet paper that is soft and doesn't hurt butt. And toothbrush. And toothpaste. And many more things."
He pushed another stack of rough sketches toward her.
She picked them up one by one:
folded cloth diapers with buttons and absorbent inserts,
simple sanitary pads,
baby bottles with wider, softer nipples,
a simple glass jar labeled "Shampoo,"
a roll labeled "Toilet Paper – Soft,"
a tube sketch labeled "Toothpaste,"
a brush with "Mighty Oskar" scribbled on the handle.
"Tanya," he said solemnly, "you make these. You build company. Bauer Kinderpflege—Bauer Child Care. Or perhaps Kleine Engel Werke—Little Angel Works. Very gentle. Very clean. Very good for mothers and children. You will be like angel for them. Save many lives. You get good karma. Many bonus points."
Her eyes widened.
"But, Your Highness… I thought we agreed Karl would handle business," she said, almost panicking. "I have never run a company. I don't know anything about factories or accounts. How can I possibly—"
"Hah, worry not, my woman," Oskar said. "Karl will help you. He already does everything," he added honestly. "And you already run me. Harder job."
Karl choked on his tea.
Hans hid a grin behind his cup.
Oskar leaned closer to her, voice soft.
"And," he murmured, "maybe soon you need diapers again. Not for you. For baby."
Tanya froze.
From her neck to her ears, she turned crimson.
"My–My Highness…" she stammered. "We… that… that was supposed to be a secret…"
Karl suddenly found the wallpaper extremely interesting.
Hans stared very intently at the pattern in his saucer.
Oskar just nodded cheerfully.
"All is good, my woman. Company will be big success. You will see. Trust me, the man."
3) Karl & Cat Sand
Finally, Oskar turned to Karl.
"Karl," he said, "my small general of money."
Karl looked simultaneously offended and flattered.
"You already run lottery. You will help Hans. You will help Tanya. You are like… chief of operations. Big honor. No salary change," Oskar added seriously.
Karl inhaled slowly through his nose.
"What would you like me to focus on specifically, Your Highness?" he asked.
"Animals," Oskar said. "Dogs. Cats. No rats. Cats yes. Cats kill rats. Help Germany."
He slapped another page down.
"So. We give cats—sand."
"Sand," Karl repeated, deadpan.
"Yes. Cat sand. They poop, they pee, sand absorbs. No smell. Good for city people. No poo on carpet or pee on wooden floor. You put box with sand inside house. Cat uses. People happy. House clean. Less disease. Big business. You call it… Katzensand Gesellschaft or something. Or we add it to Welfare Company. So welfare is not only lottery, but also clean cats," Oskar said confidently.
Karl stared at him for a long moment.
Then he opened his notebook and began to write.
"Also brushes for grooming," Oskar added. "People love animals. Want them shiny, clean, happy. Selling brushes easy. Low cost, good profit. You see?"
At some point, Karl had stopped resisting the madness. It had a strange logic to it now—lottery, safety gear, child care, pet care, gyms.
"Yes, Your Highness," he said. "I will begin investigating materials tomorrow. Clay, sand, packaging, distribution… everything."
"Good man," Oskar said, satisfied. "No need to investigate too much. I have many papers. I think big. You make big actions."
Oskar looked around the table:
Hans, with his scarred, honest strength.
Tanya, with her nervous but determined gaze.
Karl, with his tired eyes and sharp brain.
"You three," he said, voice dropping into a more serious tone, "are my war council."
"War?" Hans asked, alarmed.
"Yes," Oskar said firmly. "War on sickness. War on dirt. War on weakness. War on unhappy babies. War on cats peeing on carpets."
Karl muttered, "…what kind of war is this…"
Oskar slammed his fist lightly on the table.
"Germany will be strongest country," he said. "Strong men. Safe workers. Clean houses. Healthy cats. Pump World making bodies strong. Good products making people's lives better. If Germany strong and happy… maybe future big war is not so big. Or maybe it never comes."
Tanya smiled softly.
Hans straightened his back.
Karl, after a moment, nodded.
It was insane. But then again, so was building an empire out of a lottery, and that had worked.
Oskar put his hand in the center of the table.
After a heartbeat, the others followed.
Karl's small hand.
Hans's calloused hand.
Tanya's slender fingers.
"Oskar Industrial Group," Oskar said.
"Together strong," the others echoed.
"Yeah," Hans added awkwardly. "Go team."
The tension broke. Laughter rose. They drank their tea.
Oskar, eyes bright, began to explain in more detail:
price points,
simple designs,
quality standards,
how everything must be cheap enough for common people to buy and good enough that they'd want to buy it.
He didn't want to feel like he was only extracting money from Germany. He wanted to feel, in his own strange way, that he was paying the nation back.
First Germany.
Then, maybe one day, the whole world.
But for now?
One diaper, one helmet, one cat sand bag, one barbell at a time.