Before Wilhelm II lay the blueprints for his fifth son's battleship.
The paper rustled softly as he leaned over it, eyes roaming across the hull outline, the turrets, the neat little notes in Oskar's uneven hand.
For a moment, he almost forgot to breathe.
The ship didn't exist yet—only ink and graphite—but even on paper it felt… heavy. Dangerous.
Wilhelm II was no professional naval architect. He had been born an army man. But under his reign, Germany's navy had grown from coastal defense force to world-class fleet, and he had read enough reports and plans to recognize when something was different.
"Oskar's design… is unlike any battleship before," he muttered.
He traced the main battery with a gloved finger.
"No secondary main guns… all heavy guns… and triple turrets."
Every battleship Germany had built or was building so far—Brandenburg, Kaiser Friedrich III, Wittelsbach, Braunschweig, Deutschland—mounted two calibers of main armament: big guns and second-tier guns. And all of them used twin turrets.
But Oskar's ship:
dumped the second-tier main battery entirely,
carried three triple 305 mm turrets,
and re-centered the entire layout around them.
For the Imperial Navy, full heavy-gun armament and triple turrets would be completely new territory.
And that wasn't all.
The notes on the margins made his mustache twitch.
Oil-fired boilers.
Steam turbines.
The combination had been discussed in German technical circles, but nobody had dared propose it as the heart of a capital ship yet—not seriously. Only the British had field experience with turbines on big warships.
Wilhelm II's fingers drummed lightly on the desk.
"This type of battleship is far more powerful than anything we have now," he murmured. "If we can build it… once such ships are at sea, the strength of the German Navy will rise at once."
He could also see the challenges:
unknown engineering issues,
new machinery,
new turret design,
new armor layout.
But that did not dampen his excitement.
If anything, it fueled it.
He had the strong sense that what lay on his desk was not a fanciful doodle—but a sketch of the future.
He looked up.
"Essen," he said, "go and see if Field Marshal von Tirpitz is still in the palace. If he is, have him come immediately."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Essen von Jonarett replied, bowing before hurrying out.
---
About a quarter of an hour later, Alfred von Tirpitz stepped into the Emperor's office, smelling faintly of cigar smoke and champagne.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing deeply, "you are working yourself too hard for the sake of the Empire. You didn't even have time to attend the Christmas dinner."
Wilhelm II waved him off, but a small pleased smile lingered.
"These are dangerous times, Tirpitz," he said. "The Empire has no shortage of enemies. Banquets can wait. Battleships cannot."
"Your Majesty is wise," Tirpitz replied smoothly.
Wilhelm II gestured toward the desk.
"Come. Look at this," he said, unable to hide a note of pride. "A Christmas gift from Oskar. He claims to have designed this ship himself. A new battleship type unlike any we have seen."
If the design proved sound—if this really worked—then his strange, half-mocked son was not only a business genius but a warship designer.
The thought warmed him more than any wine.
"A new battleship… designed by Prince Oskar?" Tirpitz repeated, eyes sharpening.
Only hours earlier, he had been forced to revise his opinion of the prince after their conversation in the ballroom. Seeing this now, his curiosity became something else.
Tirpitz walked to the desk, bent over the blueprint, and went very still.
"Three triple-mounted main turrets," he murmured. "No secondary main battery. Ram bow gone. No forward torpedo tubes. Compact hull, concentrated citadel…"
He traced the rough outline with a fingertip, following the turrets and armor belt.
Wilhelm II nodded, excited.
"That is not all," he said. "Read the notes. Oskar insists this ship should be powered by heavy oil boilers and steam turbines—to achieve more than twenty-one knots."
Tirpitz's brow furrowed.
"Heavy oil and turbines," he said slowly. "We have been researching both. But our experience is… limited. Especially with turbines on large ships. Only the British have yet tried them at scale."
He straightened, eyes still on the drawing.
"Nevertheless, Highness… if we can manage it, the advantages would be considerable."
Wilhelm II leaned forward.
"Tell me honestly, Tirpitz," he said. "Is this design more advanced than our current ships?"
Tirpitz hesitated.
Finally, he nodded.
"The all-heavy-gun concept is… bold," he admitted. "It goes beyond the current orthodoxy. Most experts still believe secondary main guns are essential. The Sino-Japanese War seemed to prove that—the quick-firing guns did much of the visible damage."
Before Tsushima, navies were still fumbling in the dark. Even the Royal Navy was hedging bets with pre-dreadnoughts sporting mixed batteries.
"As for oil and turbines," Tirpitz continued, "we would face serious technical hurdles. But in theory, yes—we could replace them with coal and triple-expansion engines if needed. We would lose some speed, but the underlying hull and armament layout would remain sound."
Wilhelm II tapped the blueprint again.
"But why," he asked, "does Oskar believe this all-heavy-gun concept is the future?"
Tirpitz's beard shifted with a rueful smile.
"Perhaps, Your Majesty," he said, "because His Highness sees further ahead than many of our officials."
He met the Emperor's gaze.
"I spoke with Prince Oskar at some length tonight," he continued. "I must confess—his understanding of the international situation and naval development is… remarkable. He predicts long wars, blockades, the necessity of breaking British sea control. He may speak oddly, but his reasoning is more prescient than what I hear from many senior men in Berlin."
Wilhelm II blinked, taken aback.
"Oskar?" he said. "That Oskar?"
Tirpitz nodded.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I would not say it lightly. But I believe his instincts are correct. This proposal may be the right path."
Wilhelm II stared at the blueprint again.
His chest swelled.
"Essen!" he called. "Send for Oskar. I want to hear what is in his head with my own ears."
Essen, standing discreetly nearby, hesitated.
"Your Majesty… His Highness the Prince is probably no longer in the hall," he said carefully. "He left not long after our conversation. He does not seem to enjoy such occasions."
He paused, then added, "It is… unusual for a prince, especially a young one, to prefer solitude over society."
Wilhelm II snorted.
"Even if he is asleep," he said, "wake him. Bring him here."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Essen replied, bowing again before turning to dispatch a servant to hunt down one very drunk, very dangerous, and now suddenly very important Fifth Prince.