As the saying goes: a great man shouldn't go a day without power, and a family man shouldn't go a day without money. It's hard enough to be head of a household with empty pockets; a king without money is downright pitiable.
As Ludwig I's second son, the Bavarian crown isn't mine to inherit—Europe runs on primogeniture, with a well-oiled succession system. Even if I "solved" my elder brother and became king of Bavaria, the London agreements forbid any union of Bavaria and Greece, so I'd still have to choose one crown or the other.
Judged by the usual yardsticks of national strength, Bavaria is at least a mid-sized state within the German lands. It has plenty of domestic troubles, to be sure, but on almost every count it's in far better shape than the newly independent Kingdom of Greece.
But for a country to grow, you have to look beyond internal conditions to the neighborhood. Geopolitics can decide whether a state develops—or even survives—especially in Europe, where everything is tangled. Bavaria sits in central Europe among the greater German states, with two stronger royal houses looming above it: Austria's Habsburgs and the Prussian monarchy.
With nationalist waves rising and falling, unifying the German lands has become a common cry. Austria and Prussia—the "big brother" and "second brother" of the German world—both dream of uniting the other German states under themselves, and both are far stronger than Bavaria. That leaves Bavaria, the third power in the German lands, in a sorry bind: hemmed in by both, and liable to face a two-front pounding the moment it moves to annex its neighbors.
Historically, other powers didn't want Austria to consolidate Germany and tripped it up at every turn; combined with internal troubles and some poor choices, Austria missed chance after chance. Prussia, by contrast, thanks to Bismarck's superb diplomacy and a relentless military build-up, spent roughly half a century developing and then, after a series of wars, had the last laugh—folding most of the German states into itself.
When Bavaria realized Prussia might swallow it, it initially sided with Austria, only to be beaten badly in war. With the tide against it, Bavaria had to join the new German Empire and then slowly lost control over Bavarian affairs.
Geography tells the tale: if Otto were to inherit Bavaria, expansion could only come by absorbing the small neighbors. But in the German lands you can't get past the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Kingdom of Prussia. Central Europe is far too sensitive; neither power would sit idle while Bavaria gobbled up German states and grew fat. Even if Bavaria somehow managed it, at best it would end up like Prussia—unifying Germany minus Austria. Pushing further to fold Austria in, even if both sides wanted it, would trigger collective intervention the moment word got out.
In that case, even successful industrialization would still leave you facing the same continental dynamics that doomed the later Second German Empire. Otto doesn't dare bet that he—or his heirs—could break a blockade by Britain and France, backed by the Russian Empire, "the gendarme of Europe." A two-front war plus a strangled export trade is hell mode; the odds of victory are slim, and the likely fate is the same as Germany's in that other timeline.
Greece, by contrast, sits on the Mediterranean, surrounded by countries far weaker than the trio of Britain, France, and Russia: the Ottoman Empire, already the "sick man of Europe"; Italy, not yet unified; and to the south, Africa still largely feudal or tribal. In terms of room to maneuver, that's a drop from hell difficulty to merely hard.
In the original timeline, Greece gained sizable territory from the Ottomans simply by clinging to Britain. If I can leverage my knowledge of history and match it to current realities in diplomacy, surely I can do at least as well as Greece did then.
Bavaria today is developing slowly, its finances nothing to boast about—but the royal house is very rich and blessed with a crowd of illustrious relations. The crown's greatest wealth is land, and by wheedling and sweet talk I've already gotten a vast estate from my parents; among the brothers, my "allowance" is the largest. Once my brother becomes king, though, most royal assets will flow to him. At best I'll receive an annual annuity—how much depends on his goodwill.
Even if I become king of Greece, the war-scarred kingdom won't have funds to spare for development anytime soon. So whether to keep a fallback option or to ensure that, after taking the Greek crown, I'll have money to spend—and even to build the state—these next two years must be about making as much money as possible.
My first thought was "arms trading," but I threw that idea out immediately. From what I've seen, it isn't realistic. Every large arms deal comes bundled with political quid pro quos. There are only so many buyers on the international market, and the big arms trade has long been carved up with loans and treaties. Peddling a few dozen rifles isn't befitting my station and wouldn't even cover my pocket money.
Scrapping the gunrunner route, a new idea popped up: department stores. The first modern department store appeared in Paris in 1852 and spread rapidly worldwide. For this era, department stores would be ahead of their time. As for going further with "supermarkets," that might be even more convenient and have a broader market, but it's unwise to overstride—any business model must fit its age.
From what I know, department stores mainly deal in durable goods, with mid- to high-end merchandise, and make money through management—chiefly by leasing floor space to vendors. Here I have an edge. I have a swarm of relatives, directly and indirectly, many with large landholdings and fixed property.
If I'm willing to spend, I can line up prime sites suitable for department stores. And mid/high-end goods aren't nearly as numerous as they'll be in later times; many are entwined with the nobility, and the target clientele are concentrated in cities. Through the right networks, I can find partners across the greater German region and even in neighboring France, Britain, and Italy.
Thinking it through calmly: in Europe's current economy, capital sits largely with wealthy industrialists and nobles—just the base a department store needs to turn a profit. With that in mind, I hurried to my desk to sketch a simple plan.
To make a department store work, I must invest substantial capital as the foundation and, just as importantly, use my connections to expand quickly. Store staff—floor sales attendants—are crucial. In Bavaria I can handle the networking myself; royals running private enterprises aren't unusual, and no one at home will dare snub the most favored prince. Beyond Bavaria, I quickly jotted down a list of names—mostly nobles I know, or at least have met at banquets—mainly across the German states, each influential enough to be a credible partner.
As for attendants, I can recruit sharp local hires. European cities are full of street "brokers" who find rentals and recommend shops. With some careful selection and a bit of training, they'll make solid sales staff.
In this era, a department store is a novelty—making me, oddly enough, the resident expert. I've at least seen them, and in my last life a friend even served as a senior executive at one; over drinks he told me plenty of inside baseball.
"Whatever else it is, this will be the era's first department-store business plan. It might even end up as a historical document—proof for future scholars studying their would-be king."
After more than a month of hustle—sifting information my aides gathered, bringing in commercial talent via the royal family, and picking suitable partners—I finally hammered out a detailed plan. Otto, in high spirits, even began to daydream about the future.