The moment Crown Prince Wilhelm spoke, the entire room straightened in their chairs.
"Gentlemen," he said with a perfectly polite smile, "His Majesty has other matters to attend to, so I will be representing him at this conference. I am here only to observe and listen. I will report your conclusions faithfully."
He paused, letting the weight of his presence settle.
"You," he added, with a sweeping gesture to the committee, "are the finest naval minds in the German Empire. I trust you will guide our navy with wisdom."
Polite words.
Good manners.
But beneath the polished exterior, Crown Prince Wilhelm was praying for one outcome:
Let these old fools reject Oskar's design.
Oskar's wealth was already a threat. If he also proved capable in naval design, his status within the empire would rise sharply—and with it, his political influence.
Wilhelm could not allow that.
Weak brothers were safe brothers.
Then Field Marshal Count Tirpitz rose.
"Gentlemen," he said, voice loud and firm, "the Imperial Navy is advancing—but we lag far behind the British. We cannot afford detours, nor outdated thinking. You must evaluate Prince Oskar's design with absolute seriousness. No carelessness. No prejudice."
His words were a warning.
The old men on the committee stiffened.
This was no longer a "silly prince's doodle."
The Emperor and the Navy Minister expected real consideration.
The room grew quiet.
Count von Warren cleared his throat.
"Then let the symposium begin.
As Crown Prince Wilhelm and the Marshal have expressed the gravity of this matter, we shall proceed with diligence."
He gestured toward the side wall.
"The committee will now hear His Highness Prince Oskar von Hohenzollern.
Your Highness, please present your design."
There was a faint rustle as Oskar rose from his seat.
Several engineers expected a nervous boy.
Instead, what stood up was a huge nearly two-meter-tall, broad-shouldered prince with:
a clean, sharp uniform,
steady posture,
a blueprint tube under one arm,
and a small notebook in his hand.
His expression was calm.
Focused.
Prepared.
(He had spent the entire morning memorizing Tanya's carefully written speech, repeating each line like a mantra:
Slow. Clear. No "my man.")
Oskar stepped to the podium.
Behind him, staff unrolled the blueprint—a vast sheet covering the wall.
The room went silent.
Some jaws actually hung open.
The battleship drawn there was nothing like any German ship in existence:
long, lean, predatory lines
triple 305mm turret forward, triple aft, triple amidships
a clean, uncluttered superstructure
powerful armor layout
propulsion systems far beyond any current German plan
It was unmistakably a dreadnought-style design, years ahead of its time.
Even the proudest engineers felt a twitch in their pride.
He took a deep breath.
And read clearly from his notes—carefully, deliberately:
"Distinguished experts, I present the warship I have designed.
Length: 145 meters.
Beam: 24 meters.
Draft: 8.6 meters.
Standard displacement: 18,500 tons.
Full load: 20,500 tons.
Propulsion:
– 12 heavy oil boilers
– 3 steam turbines
Total output: 25,000 horsepower.
Three shafts.
Maximum speed: 21 knots.
Range: 12,000 nautical miles at 10 knots; 3,000 at 20 knots.
Main armament:
– Three triple 305mm/45-caliber turrets
Secondary armament:
– Twelve 150mm guns
Anti-torpedo boat defense:
– Sixteen 88mm guns.
Armor:
– Main belt: 305mm
– Deck: 45mm
– Turret face: 305mm
– Conning tower: 305mm."
When he finished, the room was frozen.
Even Crown Prince Wilhelm looked briefly stunned.
On paper, this ship outclassed every German battleship under construction.
Firepower: unmatched.
Armor: unprecedented.
Speed: superb.
Concept: revolutionary.
The committee exchanged uneasy glances.
If this design worked, their own work looked… primitive.
Count von Warren coughed.
"Ahem… gentlemen… if you have questions, please speak."
Sir Dietrich, Director-General of Naval Shipbuilding, rose at once.
His pride would not remain silent.
"Your Highness," he began smoothly, "your design is exceptional—on paper. But I have questions about your… concepts."
Oskar nodded.
"Your Excellency, please ask."
Dietrich's eyes narrowed.
"Why remove the secondary main guns? You have triple-mounted heavy turrets instead. Entirely contrary to current naval doctrine."
Oskar spoke steadily:
"Excellency, long-range naval combat will soon become the norm. With ranges exceeding ten kilometers, secondary main guns offer minimal effect.
Broadside engagements require all firepower to be concentrated.
All-heavy-gun layouts maximize long-range firepower.
Secondary batteries add weight and complexity without benefit."
His delivery was calm. Confident.
Utterly unlike the Oskar of a week ago.
Dietrich hesitated.
He wanted to dismiss the logic, but… it fit.
He nodded grudgingly.
"Novel… but unproven. Without evidence, we must remain cautious."
The Second Challenge
Brigadier General Gussard, naval weapons expert, stood next.
He cleared his throat loudly.
"Your Highness, no navy uses triple turrets. Triple turrets are extremely heavy and risk destabilizing the entire ship. Firing all three guns simultaneously would cause severe muzzle blast interference and degrade accuracy."
Oskar didn't flinch.
He turned a page in his notebook.
"Excellency, triple turrets allow more guns with less hull length. This shortens the armored citadel and improves protection.
As for muzzle blast—yes, it is a problem.
Solution: delayed firing.
Fire the center gun 0.5 seconds after the two flank guns.
This eliminates interference."
The room blinked.
Gussard's eyes lit up.
He knew immediately: the solution was correct.
A simple tweak.
An elegant fix.
He folded his arms and nodded appreciatively.
"Well," he said quietly, "that… might actually work."
Every expert in the room felt the same dawning realization:
This boy came prepared.
He knows his material.
He has answers.
And the meeting was only beginning.