The Rise of German empire

"Carter, send this telegram to Berlin immediately, and ask your father to deliver it to the emperor." Oscar's voice was firm and decisive as he addressed his chief guard, Carter von Jonareit. Carter, once the head of the bodyguard for the former Crown Prince William, had now sworn his loyalty to the new crown prince after the fateful accident that had left William in a vegetative state. Oscar was well aware of the complexities of loyalty, but he trusted Carter. The von Jonareit family had served the Hohenzollern dynasty for generations, and now, with Oscar at its helm, their loyalty would remain steadfast.

Carter had seen his own future dashed when his former charge, William II, had fallen into a coma. But the kindness Oscar's father had shown his family, coupled with the business empire they managed together, meant Carter was far more than just a loyal servant. He was now an integral part of Oscar's guard. Oscar knew Carter's loyalty was unshakable, especially given the dark prospects that had loomed for him after William's downfall. Oscar's rise was Carter's chance at redemption.

"Yes, Your Highness," Carter responded, bowing slightly before he turned to carry out the task.

Once Carter left the room, Oscar muttered under his breath, "Prittwitz, I'm sorry this time, but you've crossed paths with the wrong person. I'll have to use your head for my own purposes."

Oscar understood the importance of making an example of Prittwitz. In the world of politics and war, nothing established authority and respect like a well-timed show of power. While Prittwitz had only missed a welcoming ceremony and dinner, this was enough of a slight to Oscar's authority to warrant a swift and public response. Removing Prittwitz from the 8th Army, even if it did not result in his public execution, would send a message. Oscar knew that a small but significant humiliation of Prittwitz would reverberate through the ranks, shocking other generals and further establishing his influence within the army.

But Oscar was far from certain that William II would support his move. While his father, the emperor, had occasionally favored him, Oscar had seen enough of the complexities of court politics to know that loyalty was not always a straightforward affair. The emperor's fondness for Prittwitz, combined with the political pull of Moltke, the chief of staff, created a delicate situation. Oscar could only hope that his father would remember their shared bloodline and offer his support. Without this, the removal of Prittwitz would be a difficult task, especially with opposition from Moltke.

Oscar had also sent word to von Falkenhain, hoping that the influential general would lend his support. In a political game like this, it was crucial to build a coalition of allies.

Meanwhile, in Berlin, the office of Kaiser Wilhelm II was bathed in the soft light of late-night oil lamps. The emperor, far from resting, was buried in the weight of his duties. As the ruler of a vast empire, he often found solace in the rhythm of governance, despite the strain it caused. His mind was sharp, but even he could not escape the weight of the hours spent navigating the demands of the throne.

Essen von Jonareit, the trusted family servant, entered the room, carrying a cup of coffee. His father had served William II faithfully for years, and despite the chaos surrounding the crown, Essen remained loyal to the emperor.

"Your Majesty, your coffee is ready," Essen said as he placed the steaming cup on the table in front of the emperor.

William II barely looked up. "Put it on the table," he muttered, his eyes focused on the piles of paperwork in front of him. The emperor's temper was sharp, and Essen knew better than to disturb him unless it was absolutely necessary.

However, when Essen did not immediately leave the room, William II finally raised his eyes, an unspoken question in his gaze.

"Is there something else, Essen?" William asked, his tone reflecting the closeness of their relationship. They had grown up together, and Essen was as much a confidant as a servant.

"Your Majesty, Crown Prince Oscar seems to be in trouble. Here is a telegram from him," Essen said, handing the document to the emperor.

William II took the telegram, his brow furrowing as he read the contents. His face darkened with growing fury.

"Damn it, that Prittwitz. Who gave him the audacity to provoke the imperial prince?" The emperor's voice was a low growl, full of anger. While Prittwitz had been one of his favorites, he could not tolerate such disrespect to his son.

Essen, ever cautious, spoke up. "Your Majesty, it seems Oscar has gone too far. Prittwitz missed the welcoming ceremony and dinner, but is this enough reason to transfer him?"

The emperor paused, clearly torn. On one hand, Prittwitz had been a trusted ally for many years, and his actions were not easily overlooked. On the other hand, William II recognized that Oscar, as the crown prince, needed to establish his authority. Allowing Prittwitz's behavior to go unpunished could damage Oscar's credibility and future power.

Essen continued, seeing the emperor's hesitation. "Your Majesty, His Highness is still young—only twenty years old. It's natural for him to be a little rash at times. But Prittwitz's actions have undermined Oscar's authority. If Oscar cannot maintain control over the 8th Army, it will be difficult for him to earn the respect he needs in the future."

William II frowned, considering his options. "If I transfer Prittwitz from the 8th Army, he will lose face. But I suppose that is the price of insubordination."

Essen nodded. He had seen the potential consequences, but he also understood that in the world of politics, prestige was everything. Oscar needed this victory, no matter the cost.

"Your Majesty," Essen added carefully, "Prittwitz was not actually ill. After returning to Berlin, he went straight to Moltke's house. It's said that they drank together until late."

The revelation hit William II like a thunderclap. His face turned ashen with fury. If Prittwitz had lied about his illness, then this was a deliberate insult, and one that threatened the very fabric of imperial authority. The emperor's trust in Prittwitz had been shaken to its core.

"Call Moltke to me immediately. And summon the Minister of War as well," William II ordered, his tone now cold and decisive. His mind was made up.

Oscar had played his hand brilliantly. The emperor's favor was now within reach, and the battle for power within the empire was just beginning.