Chapter 371: William's Decision II

Tirpitz remained silent. He knew the Emperor's words made sense, but from a military standpoint, the plan was too risky and its chance of success too low.

"Your Majesty," he finally said, his voice hoarse, "please give me some time. Let the fleet rest properly, let the wounded recover, let the battleships be repaired. We need…"

"Two weeks," William II interrupted him, his tone unquestionable, "I give you two weeks. After two weeks, I want the open‑sea fleet to set sail again. This time, not a probe, not a harassment, but a chance to engage the Yingguo main force in decisive battle."

Tirpitz's heart sank. Two weeks was nowhere near enough. The damage to the Seddelitz would take at least two months to repair, and the repairs of other wounded battleships, ammunition resupply, crew rest… could not even be completed in two weeks.

"Your Majesty, two weeks is too short, we need at least…"

"Then make every minute count," William II released his grip, turned toward the window, his back to him, "mobilize all shipyard workers, three shifts. Draw supplemental troops from the army. As for ammunition… I recall Kiel Port still has reserves."

"But that would…"

"The Eastern Front has already won, the Western Front can shift to defense," the Emperor said without turning, "Now is the navy's moment. I want the whole world to see—Deguo can not only defeat anyone on land, but also at sea."

He paused, then added, "Moreover, Alfred, consider the political impact. If we show weakness now, what will the neutral nations think? They will deem Deguo's succession weak and turn toward the Yingguo. But if we display strength and resolve…"

He did not finish, but Tirpitz understood. To the Emperor, this was not merely a military operation; it was a political performance, a showcase for domestic and foreign audiences.

And the navy was the performer in this show.

"I understand, Your Majesty," Tirpitz finally said, his voice revealing no emotion, "I will convey your orders."

"Very well." William II turned, a smile returning to his face, "I knew you would always grasp my vision, Alfred. Go, make preparations. After two weeks, I want to hear good news."

Tirpitz stood at attention, saluted, then turned and left.

His stride remained steady, his back still straight, yet each step felt unbearably heavy.

At the doorway, the Emperor called out, "Alfred."

Tirpitz turned his head.

William II stood in the sunlight, his golden shoulder boards and medals glittering. He smiled, but within that smile lay something Tirpitz had never fully grasped—confidence? fanaticism? Or a deeper, anxious yearning for "historical stature"?

"Remember," the Emperor said, "history is written by the brave. And today, we are writing history."

Tirpitz nodded, said nothing, and turned to exit the audience hall.

The heavy oak door shut behind him, cutting off the sunlight, the scent of orange blossoms, and the Emperor's suffocating enthusiasm.

The corridor was dim, only a few gas lamps on the walls casting a faint glow. Tirpitz stood for a few seconds, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Then, he walked slowly toward the exit.

Each step felt like walking toward a cliff.

Naval Headquarters building, Tirpitz's office.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, the curtains drawn tight, only a desk lamp cast a pool of dim yellow light on the broad oak desk. Tirpitz sat behind the desk, three documents spread before him: the Emperor's order (in written form, just delivered by an aide), a detailed report from Shell sent from Wilhelm Port, and his own handwritten notes.

"Two weeks…" he muttered, his fingers drumming the desk unconsciously, "God, does he think battleships are like carriages? Broken, fix them and they're ready to go?"

The door was gently pushed open. Aide Major Karl von Müller— the young officer Tirpitz had met in the corridor with Shell— entered carrying coffee. He saw the Marshal's expression and hesitated.

"Sir, your coffee."

"Set it down." Tirpitz did not look up.

Müller placed the coffee cup on the desk, ready to leave, but Tirpitz called him.

"Karl."

"Here, sir."

Tirpitz looked up, meeting the young officer. Müller was about thirty‑five, blond hair, blue eyes, the textbook Prussian officer look, his eyes still flashing with enthusiasm for the navy and the empire.

"Did you read the battle report?" Tirpitz asked.

"Read it, sir," Müller said, straightening his back, "a great victory! Though we suffered losses, but…"

"But what?"

Müller hesitated, but the youngster's bluntness prevailed: "But we proved the Deguo Navy is no inferior to anyone! The Yingguo will no longer dare to underestimate us!"

Tirpitz gave a wry smile. The same rhetoric, from the Emperor to the young officer, everyone basked in the joy of "victory," selectively ignoring the cold numbers and the harsh reality.

"Sit," he gestured toward the chair opposite.

Müller was a bit surprised, but sat down, maintaining the standard military posture.

"Karl, how long have you been in the navy?"

"Twelve years, sir. Since graduating from the military academy in 1904."

"Twelve years…" Tirpitz lifted his coffee, taking a sip. The coffee was already cold, its bitter taste spreading on his tongue, "Twelve years, you have witnessed the navy's rapid expansion. You saw us go from a handful of old battleships to the world's second‑largest fleet."

"Yes, sir!" Müller's eyes lit up, "Those were glorious years! Every day we progressed, each new ship's launch was a celebration! We believe the navy will give Deguo the rightful world status it deserves!"

"The rightful world status…" Tirpitz repeated the phrase, his tone complex, "Indeed, we all believe it. I also believe it. That's why I am willing to argue with the parliament, to clash with the Ministry of Finance, to contend before the Emperor, all for one purpose: to give Deguo a navy that matches its strength."

He set the coffee cup down, gazing at the lamp's halo: "But now, Karl, I ask you: what is the navy's purpose?"

Müller thought for a moment, "To protect Deguo's maritime interests, uphold the empire's glory, and… to challenge Yingguo naval supremacy?"

"Challenge Yingguo naval supremacy," Tirpitz nodded, "Yes, that's what we say publicly. But privately, those of us who devise the plans know the navy's true aim is 'risk deterrence'—to build a fleet strong enough that Yingguo, when contemplating war with us, must think twice and calculate the cost. That way, we can obtain what we want through negotiation, not war."

He paused, his voice dropping lower, "But war still broke out. In this war, the navy's mission changed—not deterrence, but actual combat, breaking blockades, securing victory."

"We are doing it, sir!" Müller exclaimed excitedly, "The German‑Dutch... proved that…"