Chapter 86: Rewards
As Jörg strode down the corridor, a voice that had been silent for far too long suddenly rang out in his mind.
"Significant change detected in Jörg von Roman's destiny. Reward issued."
He stopped for half a breath.
For a moment, he almost thought he had imagined it. The system had been quiet for so long that he had nearly forgotten it existed at all. Yet the instant the voice faded, the exhaustion clouding his mind thinned noticeably, as if some invisible hand had peeled away a layer of fatigue.
So it was still there.
Before he could properly inspect what the so called reward actually was, the same emotionless voice sounded again.
"Minor changes detected in the destinies of Erwin Rommel and Heinz Guderian. Rewards issued."
The next instant, a torrent of information flooded into his mind like a breached reservoir.
Compared with the last time, when the surge of knowledge had nearly knocked him unconscious in the hospital, this one was far more manageable. It still made his head swell painfully, but only for a moment. Jörg suspected the previous reward tied to his own destiny had strengthened him in more ways than one, mind included.
He quickly sorted through the incoming information.
Two technologies immediately caught his attention.
The first was the G43 semi automatic rifle. His memory of it was vague. He had only encountered the name in a book on historical firearms from his previous life. Still, he remembered enough to know that it was one of Germany's few notable semi automatic rifles during the Second World War.
The second reward was much more interesting.
Panzer II.
He knew the machine's reputation very well. In later years it would be criticized again and again as underarmored, undergunned, and ultimately transitional. But that criticism belonged to a later era. In the present, such a vehicle would be considered cutting edge, a true first rate tank by the standards of the day.
Yet even as satisfaction rose in him, another question surfaced.
The system's judgment criteria still felt strange.
By any reasonable standard, Guderian's promotion had already significantly altered his path. The same was true of Rommel, whose career had been pulled free from its old stagnation. If those only counted as minor changes, then what exactly constituted a major change in the system's eyes?
And what of Paulus, Bock, Model, Rundstedt, and Reichenau? He had favored them as well. Their futures had clearly shifted because of him. Why had the system remained silent about them?
Had their destinies not diverged enough yet?
Or had fate, for some people, been harder to bend?
After a few seconds of thought, Jörg dismissed the question.
The system mattered, yes, but only as an additional advantage. Even without it, he was fully confident he could carve a different path for Germany and for the Germans. Tools were useful, but they were not the foundation of his will.
Seeing him pause at the reception room door for so long, Ethan stepped forward and asked carefully, "Sir... are you all right?"
The question pulled Jörg fully back to the present.
"I'm fine," he said. "Go and bring me several pens and a stack of blank paper."
Ethan clearly found the request odd, but he asked nothing. He understood his place well enough. A competent adjutant did not interrogate orders, he executed them.
"Yes, sir. I'll fetch them immediately."
"No need to put them in the car," Jörg added. "I have more important matters to deal with first."
With that, he pushed open the door and entered.
Raeder, who had already been waiting for some time, immediately set down his teacup, wiped the ash from his fingers with a handkerchief, and rose to salute.
"Your Excellency, Deputy Commander in Chief."
Reinhard Heydrich, who had only just realized that the young man before him was the current Deputy Commander in Chief of the Reichswehr, snapped his legs together and stood ramrod straight.
"Please sit, Raeder," Jörg said as he took his seat. "I came because I reviewed the annual reports of the different services and found some rather unfavorable figures concerning the Navy."
He crossed one leg over the other, then glanced toward Heydrich, who was still standing as stiffly as a bayonet.
"Sit down too, Ensign. I did not come here in search of a doorman."
Unlike the easy banter exchanged among many officers, that one sentence unexpectedly stirred genuine warmth in Heydrich. He disliked being overlooked, and the simple acknowledgment left a stronger impression on him than Jörg intended.
Raeder, meanwhile, had already decided that concealment was pointless.
Since the matter had clearly come to light, he chose frankness.
"The data you saw is accurate, Your Excellency," he admitted. "We attempted to preserve the Navy's shipbuilding capabilities by disguising ourselves as a Dutch concern and taking ship construction orders through commercial channels."
A bitter expression crossed his face.
"But our management was poor. Some officers even diverted part of the logistics budget to cover losses. I also disregarded certain restrictions imposed by the Treaty of Versailles and privately trained a number of naval command officers. I am prepared to bear responsibility for all of it."
He had expected Jörg to seize on the admission and blow the matter wide open.
Instead, the young man in front of him shook his head.
"I did not say it was a mistake, Raeder. Seckt might have been displeased by unauthorized action, but I am not Seckt."
Raeder blinked.
"You did very well," Jörg continued. "Once shipbuilding stops, standards decay. There is no mystery to it. Only by continuously taking orders and accumulating technical experience can German naval construction remain alive."
He reached into his briefcase and withdrew a form, then slid it across the table.
"I am not here to hold you accountable. I am here to help solve your difficulties."
Raeder took one look at the document and his expression changed.
Its contents were sharp, almost painfully so.
Insufficient practical experience.
Severe loss of skilled workers.
Technological stagnation.
Procurement inefficiency.
Administrative leakage.
The list went on and on.
And then, in the column marked advantages, there was only one entry.
Cheap labor, highly adaptable workforce.
Raeder could not help letting out a bitter laugh.
Noticing the expression, Jörg leaned back and said evenly, "Cheap labor is an enormous advantage. American shipyard workers earn more than twice what ours do. From a commercial perspective, that difference is decisive."
Raeder frowned.
"I do not understand business, Your Excellency. I am a sailor, not a merchant. What exactly does cheap labor have to do with restoring German shipbuilding?"
"The connection is immense."
Jörg's tone sharpened.
"Tell me, which country currently possesses the world's strongest navy and the world's strongest industrial base?"
Raeder did not need to think.
"America, of course. They have the best workers and the least international pressure."
"Yes," Jörg said. "And they also have high wages. Since the launch of Dawes Stock, speculative fervor in America has only grown stronger."
He paused, allowing the implication to hang in the air.
Raeder still did not see the bridge between the two thoughts. The confusion on his face deepened.
"Your Excellency... what exactly are you suggesting?"
Jörg looked at him as if he were stating the most ordinary thing in the world.
"I mean that Germany can compete for American shipbuilding orders as well."
Raeder stared at him, stunned.
Then he shook his head instinctively.
"Your Excellency, surely that is a joke."
"Do I strike you as a man who spends his time joking?"
Jörg's voice was calm, but there was steel underneath it.
"I know you do not yet believe me, Raeder, and I do not require your belief today. What I require is that you continue the follow up work properly and expand your officer training program."
That answer did not remove Raeder's doubts.
Yet it did awaken something else.
He thought of Soviet Russia.
He thought of the military agreement. He thought of the Dawes negotiations, of Germany's sudden economic thaw, of the impossible becoming real one step at a time because of the man sitting across from him.
Slowly, against reason, a strange sense of trust began to emerge.
After a moment, he asked one final question.
"Then why tell me? Why not keep this to yourself until it succeeds?"
Jörg folded his hands and answered without hesitation.
"Because I need men who dare take risks, and you are one of them."
Then his gaze turned faintly amused.
"And because I have heard that the Navy is one of the few institutions in Germany with relatively few entrenched factions. In such a place, one more umbrella is never a bad thing."
Raeder understood the meaning at once.
This was not merely assistance. It was an invitation.
Or rather, a warning wrapped in favor.
Jörg was extending him a hand, but the hand carried weight. If he accepted it, he would be stepping into the younger man's political orbit.
Raeder did not rush to answer.
He wanted to see first whether Jörg's astonishing words could truly be turned into reality. Only then would he decide whether to step fully beneath that umbrella.
.....
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