Kaiser Wilhelm

The global situation, a volatile cauldron of ambition and fear, was changing every single day, its currents shifting with alarming speed, especially in the current era, teetering on the brink of a new, terrifying age.

The Spanish-American War in 1898, a swift, brutal conflict, marked the first imperialist war where the great powers began to re-divide colonies, carving up the world anew. The overall scale of this war was not large, a mere skirmish in the grand scheme, but it signified that old, decaying colonial empires like Spain were completely swept into the dustbin of history, their power utterly extinguished. And, crucially, it greatly heightened the competitive spirit among the European powers, making the already emerging signs of a catastrophic war even more obvious, to the point of being on the very verge of breaking out, a powder keg waiting for a spark.

The Franco-Russian Military Convention of 1892 and the German-Austrian-Italian Alliance Treaty of 1882 had already formed two major, opposing strategic systems, two colossal blocs of power, poised for conflict. And the mighty British Empire, which Germany viewed as an insurmountable stumbling block on its path to ascension, its rightful place in the sun, had no way to avoid the coming storm, and never truly intended to. Its destiny was intertwined with the continent's.

War was inevitable; this was the grim, unanimous thought among the high-level officials of Europe, their faces etched with a fatalistic certainty.

Therefore, during this tense period, stockpiling strategic materials, particularly armaments, had always been a top priority for the militaries of all nations, a relentless, secret arms race. This was especially true for Germany, a nation driven by ambition and a thirst for power.

Germany. Berlin

That's right, the current capital of Germany, the heart of its burgeoning empire, was Berlin, a city of grand, imposing architecture.

Kaiser Wilhelm, his face a mask of stern determination, was standing rigidly in the Reichstag Building in Berlin, its magnificent dome soaring above him, looking down at a sprawling map spread across a massive table. His military uniform, impeccably tailored, was adorned with various gleaming medals, each a testament to his lineage and ambition.

Kaiser Wilhelm himself, however, harbored some physical issues; he suffered from a withered left arm due to a difficult breech birth, a lifelong disability. According to hushed court records, he may have also suffered from other serious, undiagnosed illnesses that caused some subtle problems with his brain function, influencing his erratic behavior.

Perhaps influenced by this underlying illness or the gnawing inferiority complex caused by his childhood disability, his personality was notoriously reckless and fiercely ambitious, constantly wanting to prove himself a great, undeniable Kaiser, to overcome his perceived weaknesses.

This inherent character trait also led to his leadership being filled with an almost obsessive ambition for outward expansion, for conquest.

He yearned for achievements, he yearned for them too much, with a desperate, almost pathological hunger!

And because the Kaiser was of this particular, volatile character, naturally, those below him, the sycophants and opportunists, always liked to use such means, such grand gestures and promises, to curry favor with the Kaiser, to gain his approval and patronage.

This was also precisely why Dutch, with his astute understanding of human nature, chose to sell Tanks to Germany. It was a calculated gamble.

Other countries, whether the pragmatic Britain or the cautious France, at least had normal, relatively stable leaders and leadership teams. They would likely have no immediate use for Dutch's crude, yet powerful, Tanks and would, more likely, investigate his growing influence in the American West, which would undoubtedly have some negative impact on his burgeoning development.

However, the same issue, the very novelty and potential disruption of the Tank, posed absolutely no problem for the ambitious, impulsive Kaiser Wilhelm. This ambitious Kaiser would only happily, eagerly, begin stockpiling Tanks, seeing them as the ultimate weapon, then immediately scheme for war, his mind already racing with conquest.

All his thoughts, his very being, were consumed by outward expansion, by the relentless pursuit of conquering surrounding countries, carving out a larger empire.

Kaiser Wilhelm looked down at the map on his desk, his eyes gleaming with a fierce, almost unhinged fanaticism, a zeal that eerily mirrored Dutch's own. He constantly circled and drew on it with a pen, tracing imaginary battle lines, his mind consumed by strategies of conquest.

Those who achieve truly great things, those who reshape the world, are always somewhat different; they seem like lunatics to ordinary people, their visions incomprehensible. But these lunatics, these driven individuals, possess a power, a conviction, that ordinary people cannot comprehend, cannot fathom.

It's more like the profound difference between how Einstein saw people, with his superior intellect, and how ordinary people see dogs, a vast chasm of understanding.

Kaiser Wilhelm was meticulously plotting the war offensive curve he had conceived thousands of times in his mind, rehearsing every detail; this was his obsession, something he needed to do every single day, a ritual of conquest.

However, his sacred war simulation was abruptly interrupted midway today.

"Knock, knock, knock…" The polite but insistent knocking sound interrupted Kaiser Wilhelm's feverish thoughts, causing his brows to furrow instantly, a dark scowl forming on his face.

"Damn it! Didn't I explicitly say not to disturb me, you imbeciles?!"

Kaiser Wilhelm roared, his voice echoing through the opulent office, his face contorted with sudden, explosive rage.

His personality was notoriously arrogant, prone to violent outbursts; of course, court writings tried to subtly optimize and soften this image, but in reality, his difficult childhood and debilitating illness had long affected his inner self, twisting his psyche, and extreme irritability was a major, undeniable characteristic.

The Secretary-General who cautiously pushed open the door had cold sweat beading all over his forehead, trickling down his neck. He truly missed the previous Kaiser; at least his personality was more stable, more predictable.

However, the urgent report still had to be made, regardless of the Kaiser's temper.

The Secretary-General cautiously stepped forward, his movements stiff with apprehension, and presented the sealed letter he had been clutching in his hand to Kaiser Wilhelm, then softly, almost fearfully, said, "Your Majesty, Grand Duke Meyer requests an urgent audience with you. He says he has important, matters of state to report."

Kaiser Wilhelm suppressed his inner, seething anger, his jaw clenching, then coldly snorted, a dismissive sound. "Then let him come! And it had better be important, by God!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" The Secretary-General cautiously retreated, backing out of the room. Less than a minute later, a man dressed in luxurious and exquisitely tailored attire, appearing to be over fifty years old, walked in, his face etched with a strange urgency.

Germany still maintained a rigid feudal system, with power primarily concentrated in the hands of the Imperial Family and various powerful great nobles. Grand Duke Meyer was among the top tier of influential figures in Germany, commanding the Southwest Third Army, a formidable military force, making him a truly influential minister, a man of immense power.

In the past, Grand Duke Meyer was known for being relatively mature and steady, his demeanor calm and collected, as he was an older man and held a high, responsible position.

But today, he was uncharacteristically hurried, his movements agitated, and even his expression showed a hint of profound urgency, a barely contained excitement that bordered on frantic.

"Your Majesty!" Grand Duke Meyer quickly walked to the German Kaiser's side, his steps brisk, then bowed slightly, a respectful but swift gesture, and said, his voice respectful but tinged with eagerness.

"Grand Duke Meyer, I hope you truly have important matters to report to me." Kaiser Wilhelm's attitude softened considerably, a rare display of patience, facing such a powerful figure who was also his loyal subordinate. "You know, this is my private time, and I don't wish to be disturbed by trivialities."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I know this is your private time, and I apologize for the intrusion, but the reason I chose to come at this very moment is that this matter is of great, indeed, paramount importance, and could potentially affect our war plans, our very destiny." Grand Duke Meyer reached out and, with a flourish, placed the sealed letter he had been clutching in front of Kaiser Wilhelm, then continued, his voice filled with barely contained excitement, "The Striker Family, a loyal house under my command, has sent a most astonishing letter. The letter claims that there is a dutchman called Dutch Van der Linde in the American West who wishes to cooperate with us. He specializes in developing weaponry, and this time, he has developed a very powerful weapon. According to the letter, this weapon will dominate the future of warfare! It even includes detailed photos and specifications of the weapon, Your Majesty."

Grand Duke Meyer paused, his eyes wide with a lingering awe. "To be honest, if I hadn't seen the photos of this weapon with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed such a thing could possibly exist in the world! It defies imagination!"

Grand Duke Meyer's words were full of profound astonishment, and his expression was even exaggerated, a theatrical display of shock. In fact, even now, he had not fully recovered from the overwhelming shock of seeing the photos, their images burned into his mind.

The first appearance of Tanks in World War I, years from now, would be incredibly shocking to soldiers, their crude forms easily breaking through positions that were previously considered impregnable. And now, the Tanks improved by Marko, a true genius, were even more astonishing, far more advanced. Although they did not yet meet the exacting standards of modern Tanks, their configuration was almost comparable to Tanks from the early World War II (of course, not comparable to the mighty Tiger, and even with some minor differences from the T-34, such as caliber, firepower, and fuel consumption), Marko truly outdid himself.

What shocked Grand Duke Meyer even more, a detail that sent a thrill of avarice through him, were the detailed specifications and models meticulously marked on the back of the Tank photos. Damn it, he realized, his mind racing, he could easily tell from them that this Mr. Dutch Van der Linde had actually designed different types of these violent machines: light Tanks, medium Tanks, heavy Tanks… A complete arsenal!

The moment Grand Duke Meyer saw these behemoths, these iron monsters, he felt his scalp tingle, a prickling sensation of profound awe and strategic insight. And the second glance, the second wave of realization, told him that he was absolutely, positively going to win the Kaiser's favor, to secure his position for years to come.

So the Striker Family, a minor house he had previously supported through his subordinates, now, in his mind, instantly became a family directly supported by him, by the Grand Duke himself. This way, his credit, his influence with the Kaiser, would be the highest, unparalleled.

Hearing Grand Duke Meyer's words, Kaiser Wilhelm became somewhat interested, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. His eyes narrowed slightly, a calculating glint, and he said with great, amused interest, "Oh? A strategic weapon that can determine the very direction of future wars? A bold claim, Meyer."

He chuckled, a dismissive sound, not forgetting to mock his American rivals. "Hahaha, what good thing can this poor, backward America possibly develop? Could it be another damned hand-cranked Gatling gun, eh? Hahaha…" Kaiser Wilhelm laughed heartily, his voice filled with scorn.

That's right, the hand-cranked Gatling, a crude, inefficient weapon, was indeed invented by Americans. It was mass-produced and equipped for less than twenty years before being mercifully phased out. Now, compared to the superior, water-cooled Maxim gun, it was completely scrap metal, utterly useless.

Just think, this thing was an old-fashioned machine gun even in the wild West, garbage that even Pinkerton Detectives, with their limited resources, didn't use. Only the desperate Howling Wolf Gang, still stuck in the West, clinging to outdated technology, used this junk, unable to keep up with the times, a pathetic sight.

This made Britain and America, who had extensively adopted the hand-cranked Gatling gun, complete jokes in the eyes of their European rivals, a source of endless derision.

It also gave Europeans another convenient topic to mock Americans about, their supposed technological inferiority.

A subtle smile also appeared on Grand Duke Meyer's face, a shared amusement. He reached out and, with a flourish, opened the envelope that had already been opened once, then meticulously took out a set of glossy photos from inside and handed them, with a flourish, to Kaiser Wilhelm, his voice eager. "Oh, Your Majesty, I also thought it was something like that at the time, a mere trifle, but I didn't expect that what they've developed this time is far, far more powerful than the so-called hand-cranked Gatling. I even think that if it's truly as their letter states, then our Germany will be able to easily dominate the entire world, Your Majesty! An unstoppable force!"

"Is that so? There's actually a weapon that can surprise you so much, Meyer? Let me see, what kind of weapon is it…"Was zum Teufel?!MEIN GOTT!

Kaiser Wilhelm, who had just been boasting dismissively that it was meaningless, that America could produce nothing of value, suddenly, violently, stood up from his chair, knocking it over with a clatter, his eyes wide with disbelief, looking at the photos clutched tightly in his hand. And then, a string of raw, guttural expletives, utterly uncharacteristic of a refined Kaiser, burst from his mouth, a torrent of shock and awe.

"Oh, bitch, damned bitch, how can there be such a crazy creation?! Oh, damn it, what the hell is this thing?! Damned Americans can actually make something like this?! Damn, the world will be theirs, the world will be theirs!!!"

Germans don't typically swear, not in polite society; calling someone an 'ass' is already an extremely insulting expletive for them, a grave insult. And now, Kaiser Wilhelm, who prides himself as a noble and a holy emperor, a man of refined tastes, could utter so many raw, vulgar expletives, which eloquently shows how profoundly shocked he must be internally, his composure utterly shattered.

Kaiser Wilhelm's eyes were fixed, unblinking, his gaze utterly transfixed. He was almost dumbfounded, staring intently, obsessively, at the photos in his hand, feeling his hairs stand on end and his entire body numb with a mixture of terror and awe!

It's not his fault; anyone who sees a Tank for the first time, especially one so advanced, will feel a deep shock and a bone-chilling cold, a profound realization of its destructive power.

Especially since Marko's modified camera and Arthur's photography skills were, surprisingly, excellent, perfectly capturing every dynamic frame of the Tank speeding across the landscape, its massive gun firing, and its machine gun scanning, tearing through targets.

The photos were meticulously divided into several sections: a clear comparison of the Tank's immense size to a human when stationary, emphasizing its scale; a dramatic picture of the Tank kicking up clouds of dust while moving, conveying its power; an image of a huge muzzle flash at the barrel when the Tank fired, a blinding, terrifying burst; and the ground utterly covered in bullet holes after the machine gun swept an area, a testament to its devastating efficiency.

There was even a particularly gruesome photo of a Tank running over a human body, showing the man beneath the Tank severed at the waist, his entire lower body completely turned to pulp, a chilling, undeniable demonstration of its crushing force.

Damn it, Wilhelm thought, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow, the visual and military impact of this steel behemoth is absolutely soul-piercing, utterly terrifying. Looking at these graphic photos, Kaiser Wilhelm couldn't think of any plausible way to counter this behemoth on the battlefield, no defense, no strategy that would work.

Undoubtedly, if such a terrifying thing truly appeared on the battlefield, then no one, no army, would dare to face its firepower directly! It would be a rout, a massacre.

Especially the crucial data written meticulously in German below each photo, outlining its capabilities.

The speed can reach thirty-five to forty kilometers per hour, a blistering pace for such a machine, and it can continuously travel two hundred kilometers after being filled with gasoline, an astounding range.

Oh, this damned technological superiority will only bring unparalleled shock in this era, a complete revolution in warfare.

The main point, Wilhelm realized with a jolt of relief, is that Germany has few oil resources. If this thing used diesel, they would have to find a way to convert it to a gasoline engine or buy vast quantities of oil, a logistical nightmare. But now that it runs on gasoline, they have much less trouble, a simpler supply chain.

Although resources are still insufficient for truly massive production, it's still much better than diesel, a more manageable problem.

Of course, they don't know yet that this thing is also much more flammable, a dangerous vulnerability, but that's precisely Dutch's cunning idea, his hidden trap.

"Oh, damn it, damn it, damn it! We must get it, we must get it! Meyer, did you just say the Americans want to sell it? They're offering it?!"

Kaiser Wilhelm, looking at this behemoth, this ultimate weapon, completely lost his mind, his strategic thinking replaced by a desperate, insatiable hunger. He roared, grabbing Grand Duke Meyer's collar with one hand, the photos clutched in the other, as anxious as a raging lion, his roars filling the entire office, shaking the very walls.

"Buy! Buy them for me, get as many as you can! Damn it, I want to fill our military warehouses with this thing! Every last one! Quick, quick, quick! Buy it as fast as possible, before anyone else realizes its true value!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Grand Duke Meyer was overjoyed, a triumphant grin on his face. He knew his Kaiser would love this thing, but this level of frenzy was beyond his wildest dreams.

Heh heh, Meyer thought, a sly gleam in his eye, this is merit, this is undeniable contribution. He can earn immense merit with His Majesty, securing his position. And when large-scale acquisitions truly begin, when the money flows, he can also line his own pockets handsomely. This is killing two birds with one stone, a perfect scheme.

"Buy it, Meyer, buy it! Bring it back immediately, then have our engineers study and disassemble it, every single component. We need to be able to manufacture it ourselves, to replicate its power! Then produce at full capacity, relentlessly!"

Kaiser Wilhelm's face was exceptionally grim, a mask of ruthless determination. "Damn it, also inquire about who else the Americans sold this weapon to! Who else knows its secret? Damn it, quick, quick, quick, if they only sold it to us… I think we really need to act fast, to strike before anyone else can react!"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, chilling whisper, his eyes burning with a dangerous light. "Oh, and regarding this matter, implement the highest secrecy regulations from top to bottom, absolute silence, especially for everyone who has seen this letter, every single soul, arrest them all and temporarily isolate them! And, no matter what means you use, ensure that the damned Americans don't sell the weapon to other countries! And don't let the news get out, not a single whisper!"

Kaiser Wilhelm's face was exceptionally grim, a terrifying mask of ruthless ambition.

If he didn't currently lack crucial information on the arms dealer selling the weapon, if he knew Dutch's true identity and location, he would have wanted Grand Duke Meyer to lead troops directly to America and wipe out that damned arms dealer, to eliminate the source.

Only then could he ensure that other countries wouldn't know about this weapon called the Tank too early, and only then could he fight a true technological superiority war, a war of overwhelming, decisive power!

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Upon hearing this, Grand Duke Meyer's expression immediately changed, becoming one of stern, military resolve. He instantly straightened up and saluted, his hand snapping to his temple, then quickly, efficiently, left the office, his mission clear.

Only Kaiser Wilhelm remained, pacing restlessly, repeatedly looking at the photos clutched tightly in his hand, his eyes growing more and more fervent, burning with the fire of conquest.

"Time is life, time is victory," he muttered to himself, his voice a low, obsessive chant. "God bless my Germany, God bless the Fatherland!"

Kaiser Wilhelm's thoughts, his ambitions, completely aligned with Dutch's cunning plan. It was a perfect, if unwitting, synergy.

Dutch had long anticipated that this particular German Kaiser would be utterly unable to resist the overwhelming desire for conquest, his inherent ambition. He would definitely try to create a crucial time difference, a strategic window, to use the Tank's overwhelming power to suppress neighboring countries on the largest possible scale, achieving swift, decisive victories.

This was Dutch's profound insight into human nature, his mastery of manipulation.

And the precious time the German Kaiser spent stockpiling Tanks, building his arsenal, would be the very time for him, Dutch Van der Linde, to develop his own forces, to consolidate his power, to expand his empire.

Once he finished developing, once his own power was unassailable, he would strategically release the news about the Tank, ensuring its widespread knowledge. The German Kaiser, having invested so much, would certainly not want his efforts to go to waste, and would be forced to start the war under Dutch's will, a puppet in his grand design.

If he, Mr. Van der Linde, hadn't finished developing, if his plans were not yet complete, and the German Kaiser couldn't wait, growing impatient, then he would simply release the armed aircraft to them, another technological marvel. They would certainly endure another wave of strategic delay to reduce casualties and make the war smoother, more decisive.

An overt scheme, Dutch mused, a complete, transparent overt scheme, yet one that would ensnare its victims nonetheless.

From now on, the very start time of World War I would be puppeteered by him, Mr. Van der Linde, the true puppet master of global conflict.