Chapter 65: Shadows of Ambition
"Thank you, Your Highness, for your generosity! If the army's military expenditure is a little more relaxed in the future, we may purchase more motorcycles," Moltke said, forcing a smile on his face. No matter how much he tried, the smile never reached his eyes.
Oscar nodded, not saying anything further. He knew that Moltke was simply speaking to maintain appearances. It would be very difficult for the army to purchase anything from his companies, especially as long as Moltke remained in his position as Chief of Staff.
An event intended to sell motorcycles to the army had unexpectedly turned into a massive donation of motorcycles. Oscar couldn't help but feel a sense of irony. However, he also realized that by spending 50 million marks, he had managed to shift the opinions of many of the army's top generals. In many ways, the money spent wasn't wasted; even if he had to buy their favor with money, it still achieved a much-needed political result.
Once the agreement with the army was reached, the event concluded. Moltke was the first to offer his farewells. However, as soon as he turned his back, the smile faded completely, replaced by a stern and calculating expression.
"It seems that His Royal Highness Prince Oscar is truly ambitious. He gives so generously to the military, clearly aiming to win the army's support and perhaps even challenge the throne of Crown Prince William. The throne may appear as stable as Mount Tai, but can it really withstand the pressure from Prince Oscar?" Moltke thought, his mind working quickly.
However, Moltke soon realized that the throne of Crown Prince William, though appearing stable, was already showing signs of instability. William II had become increasingly dissatisfied with his son, seeing him as incapable of supporting the empire. In truth, Crown Prince William was still an excellent candidate by many standards, but when compared to the capable and driven Oscar, the gap between them became painfully clear.
"His Royal Highness, thank you for your support to the army," von Falkenhain, the Minister of War, said as he grasped Oscar's hand, his face glowing with gratitude. The pressure on him had been overwhelming with military spending so tight. A few more people like Oscar, willing to make generous donations to the military, would have made his life much easier.
"Your Excellency, you are too kind. This is the least I can do," Oscar replied humbly.
Von Falkenhain patted Oscar on the shoulder, his thoughts betraying a certain wistful longing. "It would be a dream if His Royal Highness Prince Oscar were the heir to the throne."
The Minister of War's words were filled with regret. In his eyes, Oscar seemed like the perfect candidate to inherit the empire, his talents unmatched by Crown Prince William. Under Oscar's rule, the empire would undoubtedly thrive even further. Unfortunately, it was nearly impossible for Oscar to replace Crown Prince William now.
One by one, the other generals also left, each shaking hands with Oscar and expressing their gratitude. He could sense sincerity in their gestures, but he also felt something else—something more complicated. Beneath the gratitude, there was an underlying sense of guilt. These generals were clearly lamenting what might have been. Oscar understood what they were thinking, but there was little he could do about it.
Marshal Earl Tirpitz was the last to leave. As he turned to go, he invited Oscar to join him for a ride. Oscar knew this was no ordinary invitation—Marshal Tirpitz had something on his mind.
Oscar's support for the navy had clearly paid off. Marshal Earl Tirpitz, head of the navy, was particularly pleased with him. Of course, not everyone was happy with this alliance. There were many who felt it was unfair, but Tirpitz didn't care what others thought. To him, Oscar was someone who could reshape the future of the navy—and by extension, the empire.
"Your Highness, you did a remarkable job today. Your support for the navy is invaluable. Though some may grumble, especially those in the army, I believe the situation will settle after today's events," Marshal Tirpitz said with a smile.
Although Oscar's donation of 50 million marks in motorcycles to the army might seem generous, it paled in comparison to the support he had shown to the navy. Not only had he donated a "Helgoland-class" battleship, but he had also secured a low-interest loan of 100 million marks annually, which was a game-changer for the navy. Thanks to Oscar's influence, William II had even agreed to provide the navy with annual loans from the royal family's wealth.
"Your Excellency, the navy is crucial for future conflicts, but so is the army. After all, after the navy defeats the enemy, it still needs the army to secure the territory. Our warships can't occupy land, can they? I value both the navy and the army equally, though the army is already in a strong position compared to the navy's more pressing challenges," Oscar said, carefully balancing his words. He didn't want the army to end up like the British navy—dominant at sea but weak on land.
Marshal Tirpitz nodded in approval, agreeing with Oscar's viewpoint. The navy's enemies were formidable, and the debts they had accumulated required considerable investment. But that didn't mean the army wasn't also important.
"Your Highness, have you noticed the hostility from Moltke?" Marshal Tirpitz asked, his tone low and knowing.
Oscar raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, the Chief of Staff seems to have something against me. But I don't believe I've done anything to offend him."
"Your Highness, sometimes it's a sin to shine too brightly. Your talents have made some people feel threatened. Moltke, in particular, seems intent on preventing you from gaining too much influence. But it seems his efforts have failed so far," Marshal Tirpitz said, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Do you mean this hostility is coming from Crown Prince William?" Oscar asked, his frown deepening.
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