The Emperor's study smelled of paper, ink, and cigar smoke.
Oskar wrinkled his nose at the last of those. In his previous life, he had read enough about Frederick III to associate his grandfather's throat cancer with an enthusiasm for smoking that apparently rivaled a steam locomotive's appetite for coal. A desperately short reign followed by an unpleasant death hardly seemed a family tradition worth preserving.
The room itself was considerably more agreeable. Dark wooden shelves held leather-bound volumes and carefully arranged model warships. Maps lay open on side tables or rested in tightly rolled bundles, while paintings of ships and storm-darkened seas occupied much of the remaining wall space. Above the mantel, Frederick the Great regarded the room with an expression suggesting that everyone in it had disappointed him.
This man really does love the sea, Oskar thought.
And Queen Victoria, apparently. Her photograph occupied a fine frame in a prominent position. His father respected her memory with a warmth he certainly did not extend to the present British king, who seemed equally unenthusiastic about him.
Family difficulties became considerably more troublesome when the relatives involved commanded armies and fleets.
Oskar closed the door behind him and approached the desk. Despite his wealth, his businesses, and the designs that had finally attracted his father's attention, entering this room still made him feel like a small boy summoned for failing an examination nobody had warned him about.
The father was different from the one he remembered in his previous life. The sinking sensation was not.
"Sit down," Wilhelm II said.
Oskar obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair while his imagination supplied several possible beginnings to the conversation.
First you try to escape the Naval Academy. Then you call it garbage. Now you are sleeping with a maid and insulting senior officers. Apologize, or I shall drown you in the ornamental lake and send your corpse into exile.
The Kaiser watched him for a moment, then sighed.
"Do not look so alarmed, Oskar. I did not summon you to discuss your unusual decision to place a young palace maid in charge of a company, or any of your other commercial arrangements."
Oskar blinked.
"Nor do I intend to ask why Karl gave you a bloody nose in front of half the court," Wilhelm continued. "Imagine the headline: a dwarf strikes down the largest man in Germany."
A dry glint appeared in his eyes.
"The King of Bavaria and his wife witnessed the incident, among others. Fortunately, they had the discretion to mention it privately rather than provide every newspaper editor in the Empire with another story about you. Otherwise, those reports about the sweaty prince would have faced considerable competition."
He glanced over Oskar's clean uniform.
"I have taken steps to ensure that those particular headlines do not reappear. You also seem to have discovered the advantages of washing, which should make the task easier."
Oskar remained very still. He had not realized quite how much of his life was being reported to his father, and the discovery did little to reassure him.
"But that is not why you are here," Wilhelm said, his amusement fading. "You behaved recklessly before the Naval Technical Committee."
There it is.
"Disagreement does not excuse the manner in which you addressed those men. Sarcasm, raised voices, accusations—such things damage your reputation as much as theirs. And that ridiculous 'my man' expression has apparently lodged itself in the public imagination. People now recognize you as the enormous prince who says it to everyone."
He shook his head, although a trace of reluctant amusement returned.
"Fortunately, the public seems to like you. Why, precisely, remains something of a mystery to me, but there it is. The Naval Technical Committee, however, is not a crowd in the street. Insult those men, and you make enemies of people whose assistance you may eventually require."
Oskar lowered his eyes.
"Yes, Father. I was impulsive."
He meant it. He had intended to answer their objections, demonstrate that he understood the difficulties, and persuade at least some of them to support him. Instead, his frustration had escaped in the form of accusations that would be difficult to forget.
Arguing now would accomplish nothing except encourage his father to become angrier. Oskar knew enough of Wilhelm's temperament to recognize when silence was the more intelligent choice.
He would have to accept the reprimand.
The Kaiser studied him without speaking. The young man sitting before him no longer seemed quite like the drifting, troublesome son he had dismissed a year earlier. Oskar's posture was straighter, his attention steadier. Even his embarrassment appeared different: less the confusion of someone who understood nothing, more the discomfort of someone who knew he had made a mistake.
At last, Wilhelm waved a hand.
"Everyone is young once. You are hardly the first prince to discover that his temper moves faster than his judgment."
He leaned forward.
"But remember that you are addressing men whose service began before you were born. You may challenge their conclusions without trampling upon their dignity. Speak plainly, argue your case, and stop insulting people. Understood?"
"Yes, my Emperor—Father," Oskar corrected quietly. "I understand."
Some of the tension left Wilhelm's expression.
After a brief silence, Oskar raised his head.
"But what I told them was still true."
The Kaiser's brows drew together.
"In what respect?"
"We cannot afford to miss an opportunity to move ahead of the British. My design is advanced, but it is not impossible with the knowledge available to us. I am certain we can build it. Afterward, we can build better ships still."
His voice steadied as he continued.
"Those ships could give us the advantage we need in a future war. And the fuel problem is not necessarily as serious as the committee believes. We do not have to depend forever upon imported oil. We can establish synthetic plants—chemical factories that turn coal, or even things such as potatoes, into fuel and rubber."
He caught his father's expression and added quickly, "Not immediately. It will require work and the right people. I know it sounds strange, but it is possible. With support, I can show you."
Wilhelm considered him.
"You are remarkably certain of yourself."
"Of this, yes."
"And of the battleship?"
"Yes, Father."
Oskar leaned forward, unable to keep the urgency entirely out of his voice.
"When it is built, I believe it will be the most powerful battleship in the world. Stronger even than the new all-heavy-gun ships the British are preparing. We have an opportunity to surpass them instead of spending another generation trying to catch up."
The Kaiser said nothing.
There was much to weigh: the judgment of his senior officers, the risk of a failed experiment, the expense of unfamiliar machinery and weapons, and the political complications of placing so much confidence in one son.
Then there was the possibility of a German warship that made the Royal Navy's newest vessels appear inadequate.
Wilhelm's gaze moved toward the blueprint tube on his desk before returning to Oskar.
"As your father," he said slowly, "and as Emperor, I am prepared to support you."
Oskar stared at him.
"My man?"
The Kaiser visibly recoiled from the expression, then pressed on.
"You are not gifted in conversation. You mangle phrases, invent peculiar sayings, and frequently sound like a strongman attempting to recite bad poetry."
His expression softened slightly.
"But I believe your ability is genuine. So is your determination. If this design can accomplish what you claim, we would be foolish to disregard it simply because its author struggles to speak normally."
A faint smile appeared.
"Perhaps you are a genius, Oskar. A profoundly inconvenient one, but a genius nonetheless."
He rested a hand on the blueprint tube.
"You announced before the committee that you would build the ship without their approval. Very well. Go and do it."
For several seconds, Oskar could find no answer.
"Father?"
"Build your battleship. You have my permission and my protection. If you succeed, Germany will be stronger."
Wilhelm's smile sharpened.
"And if you fail, I shall ensure that you hear about it for the rest of your life."
Oskar laughed, a short, disbelieving sound that contained almost as much alarm as happiness.
"Yes, Father. I will not fail."
He rose and reached for the blueprint tube, only to stop when Wilhelm spoke again.
"Before you leave, there is another matter."
Here comes the bill.
Oskar lowered himself back into the chair, laying the tube across his knees.
"Designing a battleship is only part of the undertaking," the Kaiser continued. "Even with your considerable income and my approval, finding a yard willing to build it may prove difficult."
"Yes, Father. I know."
Oskar's excitement diminished a little.
"At its present rate, the lottery company should earn at least two hundred million marks a year, perhaps more. A battleship should cost forty or fifty million. The money can be found. But the shipyards depend upon naval orders, and the committee has rejected my design."
He grimaced.
"They may refuse it before even examining the drawings. Nobody will want to offend the men who approve their other contracts."
"That is indeed a problem," Wilhelm acknowledged. "My enthusiasm does not create an empty slipway, and private owners are concerned with their profits before anything else."
He began counting off the possibilities with mounting irritation.
"The naval yards at Kiel and Wilhelmshaven, Germaniawerft, Weser, Vulcan, Blohm & Voss, Schichau—each has its commitments, difficulties, and reasons for refusing an inconvenient proposal. A quiet word from the wrong person could provide several more."
Oskar nodded.
"That is why I considered building a shipyard myself."
Wilhelm sat forward.
"From nothing?"
"I have the money to begin. But I have no experience managing a yard, no engineers of my own, and no connections among the people who build warships. I cannot turn the drawings into a ship by myself."
The Kaiser tapped his fingers against the desk.
"Establishing an entirely new yard would take years. You would spend half your time discovering problems that experienced shipbuilders already know how to avoid."
He paused, then looked up.
"Acquiring an existing yard would be another matter."
Oskar's attention sharpened.
"Acquiring one?"
"Workers, docks, slipways, workshops, management. You would begin with something already functioning rather than an empty stretch of shoreline."
"That would be ideal, Father. But which yard could I possibly buy?"
Wilhelm allowed a moment of silence before answering.
"The Royal Shipyard."
Oskar's heart leapt.
"At Wilhelmshaven? Father, that would be perfect. But I do not have two hundred million marks available immediately. I would need to arrange—"
"Not that yard."
His excitement faltered.
"Then which one?"
"The Royal Shipbuilding and Repair Yard at Danzig," Wilhelm replied. "A respectable establishment with a long history."
Oskar considered what he knew of it. The facility was small, outdated, and chronically short of investment. It lacked a slipway suitable for the battleship he intended to construct and seemed better known for consuming money than earning it.
"Father, that yard cannot build my ship."
"Then you will expand it. Construct a larger slipway, improve the workshops, and hire the necessary technicians. I can arrange for engineers from Kiel and Wilhelmshaven to assist you."
Wilhelm smiled with suspicious brightness.
"There is your solution."
Oskar narrowed his eyes.
This sounded less like the offer of a valuable opportunity and more like an attempt to wrap an expensive problem in Christmas paper.
"Are you trying to sell it to me because it loses money?"
The Kaiser's smile held, although something near his eyes tightened.
"Germany's major shipyards are prospering. Purchasing a profitable concern would cost far more than you presently have available. Nor would its owners necessarily extend the terms I am prepared to offer."
So nobody else wants this one.
Oskar looked down at the tube across his knees. He needed a yard he could control, and he needed it soon. Starting from nothing would take too long. Persuading an established builder to risk its relationship with the Navy might be no easier.
His father was offering a foundation, even if it required considerable rebuilding.
"How much?" he asked.
"Fifty million marks. Not a mark less."
Oskar nearly came out of his chair.
"Father, I do not have fifty million in hand. I have perhaps ten."
"Then you will pay in installments. Ten million at a time should be manageable, given the lottery's performance and whatever else you and your industrious little circle are planning."
Wilhelm spoke with the ease of a man who had been waiting a long time for someone to express an interest in the property.
"Once you acquire it, you will be responsible for its improvement. Expand it, modernize it, turn it into a battleship yard. I will provide engineers, the Navy will require ships, and you will have somewhere to build yours. Everyone benefits."
Everyone benefits, Oskar repeated silently. I merely acquire a sinking shipyard for fifty million marks and persuade the rats to come back.
Still, his father had agreed to support him. That was more than he had expected when he entered the study, and he could see no alternative that offered the same freedom.
He took a slow breath.
"Very well. I will buy it."
"Excellent."
Wilhelm rose and offered his hand, his satisfaction now entirely undisguised.
"Welcome to the shipbuilding business, Oskar."
Shaking it felt rather like accepting congratulations from a lion that had just persuaded him to climb into its enclosure.
But Oskar was not finished.
"Father, my man—no." He cleared his throat. "There is something else."
Wilhelm's expression became wary.
"What now?"
Oskar drew the diary from inside his uniform and placed it on the desk.
The Kaiser regarded the worn, swollen notebook with immediate suspicion. Its protruding scraps of paper and crowded annotations suggested a prolonged argument between an engineer and a lunatic.
He opened it.
The first drawing showed a vessel traveling through space rather than water, surrounded by calculations concerning the distance to the moon and the speed required to reach it.
"For heaven's sake," Wilhelm muttered.
He turned the page and found an enormous armored tractor fitted with a short cannon. Beneath it, Oskar had written: TANK. A land battleship. Good for frightening infantry, my man.
The Kaiser studied it.
"Is this useful?"
"Very."
Wilhelm looked at him, then returned to the drawing with an expression that suggested he would reserve judgment.
Oskar leaned forward and guided him past several pages to a collection of industrial plans. There were slipway diagrams, workshop arrangements, preliminary cost estimates, and a list headed Things Needed for Real Germany, My Man. Version 7.3.
"Buying the yard is only the beginning," Oskar said. "I have been considering the facilities I will need for some time. Danzig is too small. To build my ship properly, we must expand it."
Wilhelm settled back into his chair.
"By how much?"
"New slipways and dry docks. A modern forge hall, larger cranes, rail connections, offices for the designers, and housing for the workers. I have written the requirements here."
He tapped the page.
"My book of Genesis. A new beginning for Germany."
"Genesis?"
"Never mind, Father. The important part is the estimate."
Oskar hesitated.
"Perhaps one hundred and twenty million marks."
Wilhelm stared at him, then leaned back farther.
"One hundred and twenty million. Is that all?"
"It is a conservative figure."
Oskar was uncertain whether that improved the situation.
"I want eight large slipways, capable of handling ships of thirty thousand tons or more, with several smaller ones. Eventually, I also intended to provide space for a rocket launchpad, but we can leave that for later."
The Kaiser blinked.
"Eight slipways? Thirty thousand tons? Oskar, even our largest yards do not possess that many, and battleships are not built to such dimensions."
He stopped.
"And what, precisely, is a rocket?"
"A very large firework," Oskar replied earnestly. "But later, Father. Ships first."
Wilhelm pressed his fingers against his forehead.
"Technology is advancing," Oskar continued. "In ten years, the major powers will build ships larger than anything we presently possess. More armor, more powerful machinery, larger guns. If we build only for today's requirements, we will have to rebuild everything tomorrow."
The Kaiser lowered his hand.
Despite himself, he looked back at the proposed slipways. Curiosity and ambition were beginning to overcome his irritation.
"Thirty thousand tons," he murmured. "Very large ships indeed."
He considered the figures for another moment, then nodded.
"Very well. I will make one hundred and twenty million marks available from the royal treasury as a loan for the expansion."
Relief loosened Oskar's shoulders.
"Thank you, Father."
"Added to the fifty million for the purchase, that makes one hundred and seventy million."
Wilhelm raised a finger before Oskar could speak.
"With reasonable interest, the total to be repaid will be two hundred million marks."
He lowered his hand.
"I assume you have no objection."
For most people, the sum would have been incomprehensible. Oskar found it alarming, but not impossible. If the lottery continued to perform and his other enterprises grew as he expected, he could meet the obligation.
"No objection, Father."
"Good. I shall have the lawyers prepare the arrangements."
The Kaiser looked pleased with himself. He had disposed of a troublesome yard, acquired a substantial claim upon his son's future earnings, and encouraged the construction of a warship he very much wanted to see.
Oskar studied the diary for a moment. Then another possibility occurred to him.
"Father, what do you honestly think of my battleship?"
Wilhelm's satisfaction became guarded.
"I have already told you that I believe it has merit. If it performs as you claim, it will surpass our present ships. It might even provide the basis for the Navy's next class."
He glanced toward one of the models on a nearby shelf.
"Though it lacks the elegance of Hohenzollern II. A beautiful yacht."
Oskar smiled dutifully. One day, apparently, he would have to inspect the yacht and express sufficient admiration.
For now, there was something more important to ask.
"What if I repay you in battleships rather than money?"
The Kaiser turned back to him.
"Let my yard build the Navy's next class," Oskar continued. "All four ships. Those would be my repayment."
Wilhelm's expression changed.
"Oskar, the next generation of capital ships is not something I can casually entrust to an inexperienced owner and an inadequate yard. Even with expansion, you have yet to prove that you can build one battleship, let alone four."
He gestured toward the wider world beyond the study.
"And what of the established shipbuilders? Germaniawerft, Vulcan, Blohm & Voss—do you imagine they will welcome the transfer of an entire class to your company? Naval orders carry political consequences. Awarding all four ships to you would provoke considerable opposition."
Oskar leaned forward.
"Without sufficient orders, the expanded yard will have no dependable work. Give me those ships, and I will bring Danzig to the standard of our finest facilities."
He rested a hand beside the diary.
"The committee rejected the design because it asks them to move beyond what they already know. If we build it successfully, they will have to reconsider. Not because I argued with them, but because the ships will exist."
Wilhelm drummed his fingers against the desk.
He had wanted better results from the committee for years. He wanted a fleet capable of unsettling the British rather than merely forcing them to spend more money. And his son was offering to take responsibility for delivering four new battleships in place of a financial repayment.
It was a considerable risk.
It was also difficult to dismiss.
At last, the Kaiser exhaled.
"Very well."
Oskar stared.
"Very well?"
"We shall do it your way. Your yard will build the next class of battleships for the Imperial Navy, subject to one condition."
"What condition?"
"That the ships perform as your figures promise." Wilhelm tapped the blueprint tube. "Or sufficiently close to them that my admirals have no reason to regret the arrangement."
His expression hardened.
"Deliver four ships of that quality, Oskar, and the committee will have no choice but to acknowledge what you have accomplished."
Oskar felt a rush of pride so closely accompanied by fear that he could scarcely distinguish one from the other.
Four battleships, an expanded yard, and two hundred million marks now depended upon more than his ability to speak convincingly.
He stood.
"I will not fail you, Father."
Wilhelm nodded, satisfied.
Oskar gathered his diary, then paused.
"There is one more matter."
The Kaiser gave him a look.
"A name," Oskar explained quickly. "The first ship of a new era should have a proper name. Perhaps you should choose it."
That improved Wilhelm's expression immediately.
He sat straighter and considered the question with the seriousness of a man invited to place his mark upon history. For several moments, the only sound was the faint movement of paper beneath his hand.
Then he nodded.
"Let the first ship of this new age bear an old and honored name: Nassau. The Nassau class."
Oskar bowed.
He had entered the study expecting punishment. He would leave with the Emperor's protection, a failing shipyard to rebuild, an obligation of two hundred million marks, and four battleships to turn from drawings into steel.
It was an absurd undertaking. There were engineers to find, workshops to expand, contracts to arrange, and innumerable ways for the entire enterprise to collapse beneath him.
For the first time, however, he could see more than the ship on the page. He could see the yard that might build it.
Madness, certainly—but his kind of madness.