The Iron Emperor A Prince’s Path to World Dominion
In 1903, the fifth son of the German Emperor fell down a flight of stairs and was swiftly declared dead.
The palace mourned. The doctors withdrew. The candles burned low.
And then, at the stroke of midnight, Prince Oskar awoke.
But he was not the same.
The maid who witnessed his miraculous stirring cried out his name, tears shining in her blue eyes. The boy on the bed only looked at her as if she were a stranger, and then—through a mouth that suddenly could not remember the language of the empire—he answered in broken German:
“My man… nice day.”
At midnight.
Because the prince was no longer the prince they knew.
What opened its eyes that night was not Oskar of Prussia.
It was a stranger.
A mind carrying knowledge that did not belong to this century. A man who remembered what Europe was about to become—how the “great war” everyone feared would arrive anyway, and how the peace that followed it would be thin, temporary, and bought with millions of lives.
He knew the truth the hopeful would not want to hear:
The end of one Great War would not end war itself.
It was mankind’s oldest irony—just as men grew weary of bloodshed, they found new reasons to spill it. Pride. Fear. Borders. Faith. Revenge. War after war, generation after generation, an endless cycle with no clear horizon.
And amid the death and the dying, humanity would still invent miracles. Machines. Medicines. Engines powerful enough to reach the sky. Tools that could carry mankind beyond Earth itself.
Yet with every discovery would come something darker—new instruments of destruction, weapons so devastating they would scar the great green jewel of Earth forever.
He knew this.
And now, waking in the year 1903, he did not know why he had been placed here. He did not know what fate—or chance—had chosen him for. He did not even understand the language spoken around him well enough to defend himself at court.
Yet as he sat upright in that royal bed, breathing through the shock of a young prince’s body and the weight of a world that hadn’t detonated yet, he saw something else.
A chance.
A chance to break the cycle. A chance to stop the violence before it swallowed the century whole. A chance to drag technology toward progress instead of annihilation—to push the future forward cleanly, before trenches and mass graves became the foundation it was built on. A chance for mankind to look up, not across battle lines, but toward the stars.
And perhaps—just perhaps—to unite humankind under one shared vision, one common goal.
He would try to make that vision real, not because he believed he was a hero.
Not because he thought he was “the chosen one.”
But because when you see disaster on the horizon—and you are the only person who understands it—
you don’t get to hide.
Armed with a perfect princely body, a ruthless memory of the future, almost no language skills, and one sharp-tongued dwarf attendant named Karl, Oskar attempts the impossible:
Stop World War One before it begins… and drag Germany—and maybe all humanity—onto a different path.
A path of industry, strength, medicine, engines—one that doesn’t end in trenches, but in rockets aimed at new horizons. A path where Germany rises not as a conqueror, but as a beacon: powerful enough to deter war, wealthy enough to build, and bold enough to aim mankind at the moon instead of at each other.
But history does not like being denied.
Every time Oskar changes the future, the future pushes back.
And the real question is not whether he can build a utopia.
The real question is:
Can one man derail the twentieth century…
or will the century break him—and burn anyway?
