Moltke
Though he had played a light prank on Nicholas II, whether the Tsarevich would fall into love's trap was not worth the attention. Far more productive to focus on the diplomatic talks led by Alexander III than to waste time fretting over that.
The conference held from the fifteenth to the seventeenth of September concluded with a three-year extension of the League of the Three Emperors.
The same outcome as in the original history?
Waldemar found the result a little unexpected. He had assumed the Russian side would be more eager to prolong the alliance.
So in the end the Russians simply couldn't let go of their greed over the terms, and the duration got capped?
That seemed the likelier explanation. So long as Russia refused to yield on substance, the alliance could never last. One only had to consider that the German military, the conservatives, and Austria all opposed it to realize the pact had no future.
Waldemar fixed on that point. Even with the economic weakening of France and Russia, if the alliance's cohesion remained essentially unchanged, its collapse would likely arrive no differently than in the original timeline.
Then the alliance ends around 1887.
Whether a Reinsurance Treaty would rise to replace it afterward was impossible to say for certain. Even if it did, Billy the diplomatic genius would only tear it down.
At this very moment, when the League of the Three Emperors seemed to stand at its zenith, Waldemar decided to approach the conservatives. On the surface he was a prince educated in British liberalism, expected to support Crown Prince Friedrich's reformist line.
For that reason the traditional conservatives and the military looked on him no more kindly than they had the Prussian royal house. But if, early on, he aligned himself with their logic and took a firm stance against the League of the Three Emperors?
Their regard might not improve dramatically, yet they would at least stop treating him as someone unworthy of conversation. In some cases, even as a counterpart worth talking to. That much, he thought, they would accept.
For the sake of his future plans, Waldemar resolved to move quickly. He summoned Heinrich, the brother who already owed him a "favor."
"What is it?"
Knowing his younger brother had arranged his romance, Heinrich now treated him with greater warmth than before.
"Could you introduce me to some of the notables of society?"
"You mean to debut this year instead of next?"
"Not yet."
Waldemar had no desire to debut into society only to suffer a barrage of jealous letters from Alix. His little childhood friend was fiercely possessive. Of course, avoiding a debut was not solely for Alix's sake. He still preferred to remain in the shadows.
"Then what?"
"I'd like to meet them quietly, in private."
Heinrich found his brother's thinking hard to follow, yet he had already decided to help. Considering the debt of gratitude for a lifelong partner, he would have fetched a star from the sky if asked.
"Whom do you want to meet?"
With the status of the second adult prince of the royal house, Heinrich could arrange an audience with almost anyone.
"Major Moltke."
Helmuth Johannes Ludwig von Moltke. To distinguish him from his uncle the marquis, people called him the younger Moltke. In the original history that younger Moltke, unlike the uncle who had forged German unification, was reviled as the man who wrecked Germany in the World War.
Waldemar cared little whether this Moltke had fried Germany or merely botched it in that original war. What mattered was that the man served as the eyes and ears of Moltke, the head of the military.
"Moltke?"
"Is that difficult?"
"Not at all."
Heinrich had no personal acquaintance with Moltke, but through friends in the army and society he could at least arrange a few words. Not long afterward he reported that he had invited Major Moltke, under his own name, to an informal gathering.
Heinz is capable, I'll give him that. Using navy connections to invite the nephew of the army's chief right away.
Impressed by his brother's skill, Waldemar hurried to prepare for the meeting. Sophie, who had wandered into his room by chance, was startled to see him dressing with care.
"Brother, are you going to a masquerade ball or something?"
She was surprised by her brother's sudden foray into society, yet felt a secret thrill as well. She knew full well that Alix, who had stolen her brother, could not attend such gatherings.
"Nothing of the sort."
Sophie was not disappointed by the answer. Years of experience had made her expert at telling when Waldemar was lying.
"All right, all right."
Imagining Alix's dismay lifted her spirits at once. Fully dressed, Waldemar attended the gathering Heinrich had arranged. Because his brother's friend had specified masks on the invitation, none of the guests knew one another's identities. Masked balls of this sort, concealing rank, were common enough in Europe that no one found it strange.
When the ball began, those who had brought partners danced with their ladies, while those who had come to meet someone slipped into a side room to settle their business quietly. Waldemar was among the latter.
Through Heinrich's introduction he exchanged names with Moltke. The major was mildly surprised that the man who had sought so secret a meeting was the prince famous for his liberal leanings.
"I should like to know why Your Highness wished to see me."
Moltke had no desire to waste time circling around a still-young prince, so he asked the reason outright.
"Because of the League of the Three Emperors."
The unexpected answer from the prince's lips left Moltke puzzled. For a royal renowned at court for his cleverness, the reply was certainly odd.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I want an alliance that only harms the national interest to end. I asked to meet the major so that I might convey my position to the army."
The prince's view improved Moltke's impression of him a little, yet the major offered no further warmth. He confronted the boy with cold reality.
"Even if Your Highness declares opposition to the League of the Three Emperors, what help is that support supposed to be to us?"
Moltke found the prince's backing admirable, but he saw no meaning in it. Until Waldemar added one more thing.
"Four million marks."
"Pardon?"
"That is the weight of the support I am sending the army."
It was no joke. A child's words might remain empty slogans, but money never did. Whether it was a child's pocket money or an adult's fortune, its weight was the same—and four million marks was a colossal sum.
"Use it to place articles in the newspapers opposing the alliance, and to rally the opposition."
Waldemar's elaboration left Moltke at a loss for words.
"Your Highness, such talk must never be made in jest."
The words Moltke finally managed amounted to a demand that the boy behave like a child. In answer Waldemar simply held out a checkbook. Moltke could no longer treat the prince's words lightly.
"What Your Highness desires, you said, is the end of the League of the Three Emperors?"
Moltke spoke at last, yet the nature of the conversation had wholly changed. He now accepted that his counterpart was not a child but a man of means who could invest capital in a shift of policy. His manner had no choice but to change with it.
"That is all I want."
Of course what Waldemar truly wanted was not the alliance's end itself, but better relations with the military—and beyond them, the conservatives.
"Understood. I shall inform the army's elders of the support Your Highness has shown."
"Ah, as for that—too many knowing would be inconvenient. Until I debut in society, I would prefer only one or two to be aware."
The prince made a point of his still-undebuted status.
"That... is reasonable."
Moltke agreed. He promised to convey the facts privately only to his uncle, the elder Moltke.
That will be enough.
If the head of the army knew, the army itself knew. Beyond the alliance's end they spoke of many other things. Contrary to Moltke's preconceptions, the liberal prince even revealed a view that regarded Britain as a potential enemy. The more they talked, the more Moltke felt the prince was not fundamentally at odds with the Prussian military.
In foreign policy his line is close to ours, and in future strategy there is nothing that particularly collides. If this prince enters the army he could become a promising seedling.
Moltke's impression of Waldemar had shifted from the start toward genuine favor. That change of gaze was, of course, exactly what Waldemar had intended. When one told a man only the stories he wished to hear, how could he dislike them?
They agreed that whenever important matters arose they would exchange their views by letter. Waldemar climbed into his carriage with a frivolous thought.
A pen pal worth four million marks. If I increase the number of pen pals to ten, I could even build a dreadnought.