Crown Prince Friedrich Wilhelm Victor August Ernst of the German Empire, eldest son of Wilhelm II, had been in an extremely foul mood lately.
The reason was none other than the Eastern boy his father had brought back—Hans Joe.
"What on earth is Father thinking?"
The Crown Prince Wilhelm acknowledged that this yellow-skinned boy had indeed saved his father's life.
But giving some monetary reward would have sufficed. Bringing him into the palace was utterly excessive.
Though this was his father's will and decision, Crown Prince Wilhelm found it emotionally intolerable.
"Father must have lost his mind. How else could he allow an Easterner into the palace?"
"The House of Hohenzollern will become the laughingstock of all Europe."
Discontent toward Hans was not limited to the Crown Prince.
Second Prince Eitel Friedrich, Third Prince Adalbert, Fourth Prince August Wilhelm, and Fifth Prince Oscar—all except the still-innocent Sixth Prince Joachim and youngest sister Victoria Louise—despised Hans.
Historically, due to the collapse of the German Empire, these princes' futures would prove far from "glorious":
- Crown Prince Wilhelm, eldest son of Wilhelm II, became the last Crown Prince of the German Empire. After the empire's fall, he joined the far-right Steel Helmet paramilitary group and supported the Nazis. However, Hitler showed no interest in restoring the Hohenzollerns, leaving him sidelined.
- Prince Eitel Friedrich, the second son, was a brave and capable military leader who distinguished himself in World War I. Postwar, he joined the Steel Helmet like his brothers but never supported Hitler, dying in 1942.
- Prince Adalbert, the third son, chose a different path by joining the navy. After the empire's dissolution, he avoided politics and spent his later years in Switzerland.
- Prince August Wilhelm, the fourth son, became infamous for his fanatical support of Hitler—the only staunch Nazi among Wilhelm II's children. Arrested postwar, he received a 2.5-year sentence for war crimes.
- Prince Oscar, the fifth son, also fought in World War I, earning distinction at the Battle of Verdun. Postwar, he succeeded his brother Eitel as Grand Master of the Order of Saint John and worked to protect German culture from Nazi purges.
- Prince Joachim, the sixth son, proved the most tragic. Frail and sickly since childhood, he struggled to adapt to post-imperial life, sinking into depression before fatally shooting himself in 1920—a devastating blow to the royal family.
As for Princess Victoria Louise, the sole daughter, she enjoyed her father's deep affection, even being called "the only child who truly won Father's heart." She later married Ernst August, Duke of Brunswick, becoming Duchess of Brunswick.
Unaware of these future fates, the Crown Prince and his brothers harbored intense hostility toward Hans, their resentment fueled by recent "outrages" committed by yellow-skinned people against "innocent" Europeans on Qing soil months earlier.
Of course, German troops had conducted brutal retaliatory massacres against Qing civilians. But for Crown Prince Wilhelm, steeped in imperialist fervor at its zenith, this was merely justified retribution.
"But Brother Wilhelm, where is Hans from?"
"Qing? Japan? Indochina?"
"Shut up, you fools. Qing, India—they're all just yellow-skinned monkeys. No real difference at their core."
"Hmph. Fair enough."
Of course, had Hans overheard this, he would have retorted inwardly: "By your logic, then the British, French, and Germans are all white pigs—so they're the same breed too, huh?"
In any case, Crown Prince Wilhelm had no intention of showing Hans an ounce of respect.
To him, that boy was no different from any other "yellow-skinned" person.
"…What?"
Yet now, Crown Prince Wilhelm instinctively closed his eyes, his perception of Hans shifting entirely.
Madness. This guy is utterly mad.
No—this has nothing to do with race. He's simply a lunatic.
Does this bastard even realize what he just said in front of Father?
He can't possibly know. If he did, he'd never dare spew such insanity before the Emperor.
And of all topics—Britain! Britain!
Outwardly, Wilhelm II adored his mother's homeland, but deep down, he harbored profound insecurity—especially after his uncle Edward VII ascended the throne. That insecurity had festered into obsession.
"Yet this idiot didn't just step on Father's sore spot—he blew it to smithereens!"
Even the Crown Prince himself wouldn't dare attempt such recklessness. But Hans had done it—without a shred of fear.
Bang!
"Retract your words at once!"
Admiral Tirpitz, crimson-faced and trembling with rage, slammed his fist on the table, looking ready to hurl Hans into the Elbe River then and there.
"You claim our 'Imperial Navy' will never surpass those island-dwelling bastards? What the hell do you know, you insolent brat? How dare you spout such lies!"
"Admiral Tirpitz, calm yourself!"
"Don't stop me, Chancellor! Even if he's a child, I will not tolerate this insult!"
"Hans! Apologize to His Majesty and Admiral Tirpitz at once!"
Empress Auguste Viktoria cried out in terror, her face pale.
Yet Hans ignored her plea, shaking his head calmly.
"I'm sorry, but I only spoke the truth."
"What did you say?!"
What in God's name is inside this boy's head? Crown Prince Wilhelm genuinely wanted to crack it open and see.
"You yellow-skinned ape!"
Admiral Tirpitz, now completely unhinged, lunged toward Hans.
"Admiral Tirpitz! How dare you behave so disgracefully before His Majesty and the Empress!"
Chief of the General Staff Schlieffen stepped between them, his voice sharp with reproach.
"Out of my way, Count Schlieffen! That brat insulted me—insulted our Imperial Navy!"
"Enough nonsense! Compose yourself! His Majesty hasn't even reacted, yet here you are causing a scene—where is your decorum!"
Father hasn't reacted?
To the Crown Prince, it was clear Wilhelm II was trembling with suppressed fury. His iconic mustache twitched faintly. If not for the Empress clutching his arm, the Kaiser might have already throttled Hans.
"Hans, I've heard you're an exceptionally clever boy," General Schlieffen said, his tone measured.
"From what I've observed, you don't strike me as someone who speaks recklessly."
"..."
"You claimed the German Navy cannot surpass the British. Tell me—why are you so certain of this?"
Schlieffen's question plunged the chaotic banquet hall into a tense, breathless silence.
"What's happening here?"
"Hey, Eitel, do you know what's going on?"
"How should I? If even you don't understand, what hope do I have?"
I'm an idiot for asking him. Crown Prince Wilhelm sighed, refocusing intently on the exchange between Schlieffen and Hans.
---
"He'd survived!"
Hans exhaled inwardly, relief flooding him. When Tirpitz had lunged forward, genuine terror had gripped him.
Tirpitz's explosive temper was well-known, but Hans had assumed the admiral would maintain at least some restraint in the Kaiser's presence. Instead, he'd erupted like gunpowder at a spark. If not for Schlieffen's intervention, Hans would already be "admiring the scenery" at the bottom of the Elbe.
"Too reckless. Far too reckless."
Wilhelm II's obsession with his British relatives—a mix of inferiority and envy—was volatile enough. And Tirpitz, in another timeline, had been a zealot obsessed with crushing the Royal Navy. To declare "Your navy will never surpass Britain's" in front of such men… Even Hans marveled that he'd walked out alive. It was a miracle.
A suicidal gamble.
But Hans had no choice. Risks had to be taken. Time was against him. To steer the German Empire away from its catastrophic fate in the Great War, he needed influence—now. He couldn't afford to wait for adulthood.
"It's simple, Your Excellency," Hans began after a measured pause, steadying his voice.
"The answer lies in geography."
"Geography?" Schlieffen arched a brow.
"Yes. Britain is an island nation, surrounded by sea. It shares no land borders—its 'frontier' is the ocean itself."
"But the German Empire is entirely different," Hans continued. "We lie at the heart of Europe, surrounded by multiple nations—two of which are irreconcilable enemies."
"France and Russia, correct?" Schlieffen's expression darkened, a low sigh escaping him as he grasped Hans' point.
"As long as these two nations remain hostile, Germany must maintain a vast standing army. Unlike Britain, we cannot afford to divert resources entirely to naval expansion. That is your argument, yes?"
Hans nodded.
Britain could minimize its army and pour its wealth into the navy because its island status made invasion nearly impossible—so long as it ruled the waves. Germany, however, could never abandon its army. Doing so would hand victory to France and Russia. This asymmetry, Hans argued, was the root of their naval disparity.
"The German Army is unquestionably the world's finest. But sustaining both the strongest army and navy is impossible—not even the British Empire achieves this."
Only one nation, Hans knew, could juggle such ambitions without collapsing: the United States, a land blessed by geography and resources. Its eventual title of "hyperpower" was no accident.
"But how can we know without trying?" Tirpitz interjected, his voice seething. "Even with inherent disadvantages, if we rally the entire nation's strength—"
"With all due respect, Admiral," Hans cut in, "the German Empire already spends 60% of its revenue on military expenditures. If we recklessly chase Britain by funneling more into the navy, we'll plunge into catastrophic budget deficits. The entire financial system would collapse."
And what of the fleet itself? Even if built, would it ever see decisive use? History suggested otherwise.
"Then reduce the army's size—" Tirpitz began.
"Did you not hear young Hans earlier?" Schlieffen snapped, his patience fraying. "With France and Russia at our borders, weakening the army is suicidal. And before you even suggest it, know this: every senior officer in the army—myself included—would challenge you to a duel!"
Schlieffen's expression hardened with unshakable resolve. Tirpitz's shoulders slumped in defeat.
In the original timeline, Schlieffen and the Prussian Junker aristocracy had fiercely opposed Wilhelm II's attempts to slash army budgets for naval expansion, forcing the Kaiser to retreat. The Prussian nobility's devotion to the army was absolute.
"But… but strengthening the navy is essential!" Tirpitz protested weakly.
"Your Majesty?"
As the discussion tilted toward accepting that the Kaiserliche Marine could never realistically surpass the Royal Navy, Wilhelm II—who had been silently observing Hans and Schlieffen—spoke up, his voice tinged with desperation:
"If Germany is to ascend as a peer to Britain and France, a powerful navy is indispensable. Naval expansion is not merely my ambition—it is the fervent hope of every citizen of the Empire! To abandon it now is unthinkable!"
"Y-Your Majesty is absolutely right!"
Tirpitz, reinvigorated by the Kaiser's impassioned defense of the navy, straightened his posture.
None of this surprised Hans. These two battleship zealots would sooner die than relinquish their naval ambitions.
Not that my goal is to stop the naval race itself.
Besides, halting it was impossible. Hans intended to use this debate as a stepping stone—to earn the Kaiser's trust and elevate his influence.
"Your Majesty, I never suggested abandoning naval strength," Hans interjected calmly.
"Hans?"
"What I mean is this: competing with Britain in sheer numbers is futile. We'll neither surpass nor even catch up to the Royal Navy through quantitative arms races."
Every eye in the room locked onto him.
This is the moment. Don't falter.
"Hans, what exactly are you proposing?" Schlieffen demanded.
"If the Imperial Navy is to overtake Britain's, we must change our strategy."
"Change… our strategy?" Wilhelm II leaned forward, intrigue cutting through his earlier agitation.
Hans suppressed a smile. Hook set. Now reel them in.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Let us speak not of more ships, but of better ones."
"Build a single warship so advanced, so revolutionary, that it renders every existing battleship obsolete."
"!!"
"Your Majesty, this is precisely what you need now."
The Dreadnought.
The pinnacle of early 20th-century naval supremacy. A steel leviathan that would relegate all older warships to scrap upon its debut.
"Elaborate."
Would the warship-obsessed Kaiser refuse?
Hans bet he wouldn't.