St. Petersburg: The Winter Palace's Fury

At the same time, in St. Petersburg, at the Winter Palace.

The atmosphere in Tsar Nicholas II’s study was ten times worse than in the London Cabinet meeting room.

"Liar! Traitorous businessman! Dirty German bastard!"

The Tsar's roar pierced through the heavy oak doors, reaching even the guards in the corridor. No one dared to move, no one dared to make a sound, not even dared to breathe too loudly.

Inside the study, Nicholas II, his face flushed, clutched a copy of the Berliner Zeitung, his arm trembling violently with rage. The front page featured a large photograph of the Westfallen entering Kiel, accompanied by the sensational headline: "The Imperial Beast Returns Home—A New Era for the World's Navy."

But this was not what angered the Tsar the most.

What angered him was the Vienna News, the official newspaper of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, which was sitting next to him. The front-page photo showed three dreadnoughts that were extremely similar to the Westphalian-class battleships, moored in the harbor of Trieste. The headline read: "The Rise of the Austro-Hungarian Navy – Three New Battleships Enter Service."

"Three! Austria-Hungary has three!" Nicholas II slammed the newspaper down on the face of Admiral Alexei Bililev, the First Minister of the Navy. "And you! Tell me, what has the Imperial Navy gotten? Four pieces of junk designed by the Germans ten years ago! Costing four million pounds!"

General Bililev lowered his head, not daring to wipe the spittle from his face: "Your Majesty, the Germans said at the time that this was the best they could offer..."

"The best? The best batch was sold to Austria-Hungary! The second-best was kept for themselves! The worst were sold to us in bulk!" The Tsar rushed to the world map, pointing his finger at the location of Austria-Hungary. "Look! Even the Austrians can ride roughshod over us! The Baltic Fleet was completely annihilated in the Tseima Strait, the Black Sea Fleet is outdated and dilapidated, and now even Austria-Hungary has three dreadnoughts! And what about us?"

He turned around, his eyes bloodshot.

"Russia, the great Russian Empire, the gendarmerie of Europe, the leader of the Slavic peoples—not even a single dreadnought! The whole world is laughing at us! The Japanese are laughing, the Germans are laughing, even the Austrians are laughing!"

Foreign Secretary Earl Ramsdorf cautiously suggested, "Your Majesty, perhaps we could place an order with England..."

"Britain?" Nicholas II sneered. "The British would sell us dreadnoughts? When they've just approved the construction of ten for their own use? We won't get to see them until 1910! 1910!"

He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, but he couldn't.

"William... my dear cousin William. What did he say to me last year? 'Nikolai, my dearest cousin, Germany and Russia are natural allies, and we should unite against British maritime supremacy.' I believed him! I spent four million on his old ship, thinking it was an act of assistance between allies!"

The Tsar's voice suddenly lowered, filled with the pain of betrayal:

"But he turned around and sold his best warships to Austria-Hungary—the Austria-Hungary that was vying with us for influence in the Balkans! The Austria-Hungary that supported Turkey against us! He handed the knife to our enemy!"

Admiral Biliev finally mustered his courage: "Your Majesty, perhaps... perhaps these ships were not built by the Germans."

"What?"

"The intelligence service has received some vague reports," the admiral said quickly. "These dreadnoughts may not have been built in Germany. There are indications pointing to... a region on the outskirts of the Ottoman Empire, possibly connected to the Chinese."

"Chinese?" Nicholas II frowned. "Are you telling a fairy tale?"

"It's just speculation, Your Majesty. But it's impossible for the Germans to build six warships completely out of the public eye. And the three they sold to Austria-Hungary were delivered around the same time as the Germans—which makes sense if they were built in the same shipyard."

The Tsar pondered for a moment.

Then he said, "Investigate. Investigate at all costs. If such a place really exists... if someone really can build a dreadnought..."

His eyes turned dangerous:

"Then the Russian navy needs a few. No, not just a few. Ten, twenty! Russia must possess a naval force at least equal to Germany's!"

"But Your Majesty, the finances..."

"Finance?" Nicholas II laughed, a laugh that sent chills down the spines of everyone present. "We have vast lands, abundant resources, and countless loyal subjects. Money... can always be obtained."

He walked to his desk, picked up a pen, and quickly wrote down a decree:

"Establish a special investigation committee, directly responsible to me. Its tasks are: first, to ascertain the true origin of these dreadnoughts; second, to assess the possibility of us acquiring similar warships; and third, if necessary, to take any necessary measures—including but not limited to bribery, threats, sabotage, and even military action."

He handed the order to Birilev:

"Admiral, this is your last chance. Either bring back the Dreadnought, or bring back your resignation letter."

Bililev took the edict, his hand trembling: "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Furthermore," the Tsar added, "inform the ambassador in Berlin to cancel next week's state visit to Germany. Tell Emperor Wilhelm that I am 'unwell.' Let him guess what's wrong with me."

"Yes."

After everyone left the study, Nicholas II stood alone by the window, gazing at the cold Neva River outside the Winter Palace.

His cousin Wilhelm, the German Emperor who always wore extravagant military uniforms and loved to give impassioned speeches, went too far this time.

ally?

When it comes to imperial interests, there are no allies, only fools and liars.

Nicholas II, however, was determined not to be a fool anymore.

He wanted to find the place where dreadnoughts could be built, no matter where in the world it was. Then, he wanted to make the Russian Navy a formidable force once again.

At that time, he would personally invite William to St. Petersburg to visit the Russian Dreadnought Fleet.

That scene must be very interesting.

A cold smile appeared on the Tsar's lips.

But the smile quickly disappeared.

Because he knew that to get to that point, he needed money, technology, and time—and what Russia lacked most was time.

Outside the window, it started snowing in St. Petersburg.

The icy snowflakes fell on the Neva River and quickly melted into the dark water.

Just like Russia's former maritime ambitions, which have silently melted away in the wave of technological revolution.

Unless... unless we can grasp at that straw.

Wherever it is.

No matter what the cost.

Portsmouth Naval Base, Officers' Club.

It was 11 p.m., and most of the guests had already left. But in the small smoking room on the second floor, there were still two people sitting opposite each other.

Admiral Tirpitz and Sir William May.

Cigar smoke rose slowly in the dim light. Both men's whiskey glasses were half empty.

After a long silence, William May finally spoke:

"Alfredo, how many years have we known each other?"

Tirpitz thought for a moment: "Twenty-two years. In 1884, when you became captain of the Indomitable, I was a German naval observer."

"Back then you were just a major, spending all your time taking notes in your notebook." William May smiled, a hint of nostalgia in his expression. "You told me, 'Sir, every detail of the Royal Navy is something the German Navy should learn from.'"

"I'm telling the truth," Tirpitz said, taking a sip of whiskey. "Back then, the Royal Navy truly was the world's benchmark."

"And now?"

Tirpitz did not answer immediately. He swirled his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl within.

"Now, Sir, the world has changed. The speed of technological change is beyond anyone's imagination. Three years ago, a fully-equipped heavy-gun warship was just a theoretical concept. Today, we have six in service."

"And you actually built it." William May stared at him. "Without our knowledge. Those guys in Naval Intelligence should be shot."

"It's not their fault," Tirpitz said, unusually speaking up for his British colleagues. "Some things... go beyond the scope of traditional intelligence work."

William May astutely caught something: "You mean, these ships weren't built in Germany?"

Tirpitz remained noncommittal: "Sir, there are some questions I cannot answer. But there are some facts you can deduce for yourself."

Another silence followed.

"Fischer smashed a glass at the cabinet meeting today," William May said abruptly. "He forced the cabinet to approve the plan to build ten dreadnoughts. An additional £15 million in funding—the Chancellor of the Exchequer almost had a heart attack."

"Ten ships." Tirpitz nodded. "That's more like Fisher. He's a smart man; he knows what to do."

"Do you know what this means?" William May's voice deepened. "It means the naval race has officially begun. Not the mild, controlled race of the past. It's a race of all-out effort, a race where the fate of the nation is at stake."

"I know."

"And then what? Will Germany build more? Twelve? Sixteen? Until both countries' finances are bankrupted?"

Tirpitz put down his glass and leaned forward:

"Sir, let me ask you a question: Why can Britain have the world's first navy, while Germany cannot? Why can Britain have colonies all over the world, while Germany can only pick up scraps? Why is the 'two-power standard'—that the Royal Navy must be equal to the combined strength of the world's second and third largest navies—considered a matter of course, while Germany's desire for a navy commensurate with its land area, population, and industrial strength is seen as a threat?"

William May opened his mouth, but Tirpitz didn't give him a chance to speak:

"Because of history, because of tradition, because of 'since ancient times.' But Sir, times are changing. The German Empire had 65 million people, the most powerful industry in Europe, and the world's best scientists and engineers. Is it too much for us to demand an international standing commensurate with our strength?"

"But maritime hegemony..."

"Maritime supremacy is not a gift from God, but a manifestation of power," Tirpitz interrupted him. "Three hundred years ago, the Spanish had maritime supremacy. Two hundred years ago, the Dutch had it. One hundred years ago, the French almost had it. Now, it's the British. So what about the future?"

He looked directly into William May's eyes:

"The future belongs to those who are most deserving of it."

William May remained silent for a full minute. Then he shook his head with a wry smile:

"Alfrete, you've changed. The humble and studious German major of twenty years ago is gone."

"No, Sir, I haven't changed," Tirpitz said earnestly. "I'm still learning and catching up. It's just that what I've caught up with is different now."

He downed the wine in his glass in one gulp and stood up:

"We will return tomorrow. Thank you for your hospitality. Please convey to Lord Fisher that I look forward to meeting the Royal Navy's new dreadnoughts at sea."

William May also stood up, and the two shook hands.

A very firm handshake.

"Alfred, one last question," the British veteran said. "If these ships...if they weren't built in Germany, then who built them? And what did they want?"

Tirpitz walked to the door, turned back, and gave a meaningful answer:

"A forgotten country wants to be seen by the world again. And we gave it the stage."

The door closed.

William May stood alone in the smoking room, repeatedly pondering the words.

A forgotten country? A stage?

He walked to the window and looked out at the dark harbor. In the distance, the silhouette of the Westfallen was faintly visible in the moonlight, like a sleeping steel behemoth.

Tomorrow, this giant beast will leave and return to the North Sea.

But William May knew that the impact was only just beginning.

The construction of ten British dreadnoughts has begun, and Germany will inevitably respond. France will panic, Russia will be furious, and Japan will be anxious…

Starting today, the global naval landscape has officially entered a death spiral of arms race.

And it all started with six warships that should never have existed.

And that shipyard where nobody knows where.

William May picked up the phone: "Get Captain Hall from Naval Intelligence. Tell him I need the full report on 'Chinese Influence in the Persian Gulf.' Now, immediately."

While waiting for the call to connect, he looked eastward.

The sun will soon rise on the other side of the horizon.

a new day.

A new competition.

The Royal Navy, on the other hand, had already lost at the starting line.

Unless, of course, we can find that mysterious shipbuilder.

Or, find a way to destroy him.