There is an old Chinese saying

I know a little bit about it.

"There's a Chinese idiom, 'A single spark can start a prairie fire.'" Wilhelm II turned around, his eyes gleaming with a strange light. "These six ships are the sparks. They will ignite British fear, ignite a naval race, and ignite a global frenzy for the next generation of battleships. And while everyone's eyes are on the North Sea..."

He walked to the other side of the world map and pointed to the far east.

"That Chinese man named Chen Feng isn't just building warships in the Persian Gulf. He's building a nation. A Chinese nation. Do you know what that means?"

Tirpitz cautiously replied, "It means the balance of power in the Far East may be broken."

"More than that," Wilhelm II shook his head. "It means that the first crack has appeared in the era of white dominance of the world. The Dutch, the British, and the French colonized Asia for three centuries, telling the world that yellow people were destined to be ruled. But now, a yellow person has built warships more advanced than all the white people combined, and is using these warships to make money, build a nation, and accumulate power."

He paused, lowering his voice: "Alfred, what the German Empire needs to do is not compete with that Chinese. It needs to cooperate. Use his technology, his shipbuilding capabilities, to fight against our common enemy—Britain. When we control the seas, the East… can be given to him."

Tirpitz took a deep breath. The Emperor's strategic vision was sometimes insane, and sometimes terrifyingly sharp.

"That's why you agreed to such a high price, even paying with gold."

"Gold will run out, but technology is forever," Wilhelm II said. "And I need him to keep the British attention. When the British discover that in that unassuming port in the Persian Gulf, a warship being launched is far more advanced than the Westphalian-class... guess what they'll do?"

Tirpitz understood instantly: "They will move more of their fleet to the Indian Ocean and disperse their forces in the North Sea."

"Yes," Wilhelm II smiled. "And by then, our second and third batches of new ships will have entered service. The balance of power in the North Sea will quietly shift."

The changing of the guard command came from outside the window. Autumn sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the floor.

Tirpitz gazed at the Emperor's profile, rendered in shadow, and suddenly felt a chill. The plan was too grand, too complex, involving far too many variables. But undeniably, it had a chance of success.

"There is one more thing, Your Majesty," Tirpitz concluded. "The Russians. They lost to the Japanese in the Far East; their Baltic fleet was almost completely annihilated. The military attaché in St. Petersburg reports that Tsar Nicholas II urgently needs to replenish his warships."

Wilhelm II's eyes lit up: "You mean..."

"We can sell the old capital ships that are being replaced to the Russians as a package," Tirpitz said. "We can raise the price, since they urgently need them anyway. This way, we can recoup some funds, make the Russian Navy owe us a favor, and give the British another direction to be wary of."

"Great idea!" Wilhelm II slammed his fist on the table. "Get it done immediately! Tell the Russians we have four capital ships designed in 1898 that we can transfer 'at a discount,' with six months' worth of ammunition and maintenance support included. But it has to be cash, or in exchange for grain, timber, or minerals."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

As Tirpitz saluted and prepared to leave, Wilhelm II called him back.

"Alfrete".

"His Majesty?"

"You say..." The emperor's voice suddenly became somewhat unsteady, "How will history books describe today a hundred years from now? Will they describe that morning when six German warships passed through the Suez Canal?"

After a moment's thought, Tirpitz gave the most pragmatic answer a naval commander could offer:

"They would say that it was the last day of the old navy and the first morning of the new navy."

Wilhelm II laughed, a laugh like a child.

"I like that way of putting it. Go on, make that morning a little longer."

London, Admiralty Building, First Sea Lord's office

Lord John Abbasnot Fisher, First Sea Lord of the Royal Navy, stared at the twelve photographs spread out on his desk, speechless for an hour.

The office was filled with smoke. Cigarette ashtrays were filled and emptied repeatedly. The nautical clock on the wall ticked away, each second striking a nerve in everyone present.

Captain William Reginald Hall, Chief of Naval Intelligence, stood at his desk, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He had received a coded telegram from Cairo at five o'clock that afternoon, received the photographic negatives sent urgently via diplomatic pouch at six, developed them at seven, and arrived at the Admiralty at eight. Then came a long silence.

"Explain," Fisher finally spoke, his voice eerily calm.

Hall swallowed hard. "Between 6:20 and 7:00 this morning, six new German battleships passed through the middle of the Suez Canal. This is a photograph taken by dispatcher Jason Evans. Judging from their hull types, they belong to the same class and are completely identical in design."

“I can tell.” Fisher picked up a magnifying glass and zoomed in on the nearest image. “Five twin turrets. All main guns. No secondary gun corps. This is a full heavy gun design, exactly the same as what I mentioned in my 1903 memorandum.”

"Yes, sir."

"Displacement?"

"Based on the waterline depth and hull size, the ship is estimated to be at least 18,000 tons, and possibly as high as 20,000 tons."

"Main gun caliber?"

"Based on the photo analysis, the barrel length is approximately 45 times the caliber. The muzzle diameter..." Hall said with difficulty, "is estimated to be around 12 inches."

Fisher's hand trembled slightly. 12 inches (305 mm) was the largest caliber currently in service with the Royal Navy. And the Germans had ten on a single ship.

"Speed".

"Visually estimated to be more than 21 sections. The dispatcher reports that the chimney exhaust characteristics indicate the use of steam turbines."

Fisher put down the magnifying glass and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his eyes were bloodshot.

When did the Germans start building it?

"We...don't know, sir." Hall's voice trailed off. "Naval Intelligence has no reports. Dockyard observers, steel procurement records, boiler orders...everything's normal. It's as if these ships just appeared out of thin air."

"Appeared out of thin air?" Fisher slammed his fist on the table, the photograph leaping to life. "Six 20,000-ton battleships! That would require over 100,000 tons of steel! Over 5,000 workers! At least two years to build! And you're telling me the Germans could build six without alerting us at all?"

Hall dared not answer.

Fisher stood up and paced quickly around the office. He wasn't tall, but at that moment he looked like a lion trapped in a cage.

"Do you know what's most terrifying?" He suddenly stopped. "It's not the six ships themselves. It's what they represent."

He walked to the North Sea nautical chart on the wall and pointed to Port William and Port Kiel.

"The Germans have mastered the design of all heavy guns, the steam turbine technology, and the unified fire control system. This means that their next batch of warships, and the batch after that, will all be of this standard. And our 'Dreadnought'..." He turned, his eyes sharp, "is still twelve months away from being launched. By the time it enters service, there may already be twelve German ships of the same type in the North Sea."

"We can speed up construction, sir," said Sir Philip Watts, Chief of Naval Construction. "If we suspend other projects and concentrate resources, the construction period for the 'Dauntless' can be shortened to six months."