I transmigrated as a french soldier during XVIIIth century

Hans Joachim von Zieten, Heinrich August de la Motte-Fouqué, and August Wilhelm of Brunswick-Bevern were caught in a race against time. They quickly set to work to seek allies, knowing that even the slightest misstep could be fatal. Acting swiftly without alerting their enemies in Berlin—now that was a challenge!

After a rigorous selection of their contacts, only a handful of names remained. It wasn't much, but behind each name stood highly skilled and loyal troops.

But that wasn't enough. What they needed were large numbers of troops to confront the Franco-Imperial armies, surround, and eliminate them. Moreover, these troops needed to be properly equipped since it was unthinkable to send them to the front without powder or muskets.

This was Friedrich Ludwig Finck von Finckenstein’s primary mission. He had the advantage of being positioned in the north of the kingdom, close to the sea and their only ally, Great Britain.

Since the beginning of December, they had been receiving regular shipments of military equipment and funds by sea to continue the fight.

No one was fooled: if their ally was being so generous, it wasn't out of pure kindness but to prolong the conflict on the continent and keep a significant portion of Louis XV’s army tied up.

Friedrich Ludwig did not return to East Prussia but instead headed to Western Pomerania, a vast region conquered a century earlier by the Great Elector Frederick William, father of the first King of Prussia. This was where British ships were unloading their precious cargo. They departed from southern England, crossed the North Sea, rounded the Danish peninsula, entered the Baltic Sea, and arrived at the discreet port of Kolberg.

The location was so insignificant that it had not been deemed necessary to build walls or a fortress there. Few European officers knew of its existence, making it an ideal spot to deposit arms, tents, powder, and gold. Of course, all of this arrived under another flag. With the Kingdom of Denmark-Norway being neutral and so close, it was easy to disguise these ships as mere merchant vessels of that state.

However, they had to be cautious, as Swedish ships patrolled these waters, which they considered their own, just as the English Channel belonged to Great Britain or the Caribbean to Spain.

On the day Friedrich Ludwig arrived in Kolberg, two small ships docked. The wood of their hulls was dark, likely more from years of service than the tar waterproofing them. When he saw them mooring, he even wondered how these ships could still sail.

But as he got closer, he realized that the aging of the wood had been faked, and it wasn’t in as bad a state as it appeared.

Under tight security, heavy crates and large barrels were unloaded. Everything was quickly stored, under the watchful eye of the officer, while the captains of the two ships exchanged a few words with an infantry captain. The man, who couldn’t have been forty, quickly saluted as soon as he saw Friedrich Ludwig approaching.

"My general!"

"At ease, major. Gentlemen, good day," Friedrich Ludwig said to the two ship captains.

"Um, forgive me, my general, but these gentlemen don't speak our language very well. If you wish, I can translate for you."

"That won’t be necessary. I speak English."

The division general turned again to the two men, whose skin appeared weathered by the sea salt and repeated assaults from the sun.

"Gentlemen," he said in their language, "what do you bring?"

"Muskets, powder, and military tents," replied one of them in the same language. "As for the muskets, they aren't the latest models, but I can assure you they are not only functional but of very high quality. They will kill your enemies without any problem."

"Hmm, good. Is that all we are expecting? Do you have artillery?"

The two captains exchanged a quick glance, visibly embarrassed.

"My lord, transporting artillery is not an easy task, especially in these difficult times. Our king needs every piece to defend his coasts and arm his ships."

"I understand, but His Majesty must also understand that a battle fought without artillery against an enemy who possesses it can only be lost, no matter how many troops the commander has. Can you convey that to your employers to inform His Majesty?"

"I... We will deliver your request," said the sailor, bowing respectfully.

The Prussian general, who would celebrate his forty-ninth birthday in exactly three months, cast his eagle-eyed gaze over the cargo being unloaded. He seemed fairly satisfied with what he saw.

"When will the next shipment arrive?" he asked with anticipation, estimating that it was far from enough to arm a force large enough to challenge France and the Holy Roman Empire.

"In two weeks," replied the older captain, displaying a carefully trimmed white beard.

"So late? Can’t you bring them faster?"

Damn it! Even though we've received a lot of material, it's far from enough. If we fail because of their slowness...

"My lord," responded the younger of the captains, "it's not so easy. We have to gather all this material, load it discreetly, and bring it on very slow vessels to avoid alerting the enemy. If we speed up, our regular passages will eventually attract the attention of other nations!"

Friedrich let out a deep sigh of resignation.

"In that case, there’s nothing we can do. Major, immediately load all this onto wagons and ensure everything arrives at this location."

He handed him a small note, then a purse to each man for their silence.

***

The problem with secrets was that sooner or later they ended up being revealed because the moment they were shared, they ceased to be secrets. They simply became information known to a small number of people. Trouble began when this information spread and reached the ears of the wrong people.

In this particular case, it involved suspicious movements by certain high-ranking officers and the unauthorized transportation of a large amount of military equipment.

When this reached the desk of Prince Ferdinand, grieving the loss of his brother, Prince Augustus William, at just thirty-five years old, he didn’t know how to react immediately. After all, these were important names. All were seasoned men, known for their bravery and integrity.

They must have good reasons. It’s… it must be to defend the kingdom against foreign armies preparing and strengthening at our borders.

In the absence of his elder brother, the king, Prince Augustus Ferdinand had to manage all the affairs of the kingdom, which exhausted him and kept him awake until very late hours. He now slept only a few hours per night, and it showed in his eyes despite his makeup. At twenty-seven, he looked thirty-five. But he didn’t complain, for others shared his burden.

Like him, his brother’s ministers and diplomats worked tirelessly every day for the good of the kingdom. Progress was being made, but sometimes he felt as if he wasn’t advancing, like being on a ship pushed by opposing winds and currents.

The rumors, mostly false, that circulated in the city troubled him deeply. The people of Berlin were restless, and he feared that, due to some misunderstanding, they might decide to take matters into their own hands and physically target foreign diplomats and their own.

He had discussed this at length with his ministers and hesitated greatly over the best strategy to adopt. One thing was certain: sending the army would only aggravate the situation.

I feel like I’m sitting on a powder keg!

"Your Highness? Lord Finckenstein has arrived."

"Ah, very well. Have him come in. I’ll see him."

I hope he can give me good advice. Even though I don’t agree with him on many points, he is a competent man, loyal to my brother and the kingdom.

The minister didn’t take long to enter the vast study and found a prince who was almost unrecognizable. He himself had changed a lot. The most significant consequence for him had been a significant weight loss. He had been forced to visit the tailor for new outfits. Around his neck hung the splendid medal he had received when he became an honorary member of the Royal Academy of Sciences of Prussia.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, my lord."

"I am the kingdom's servant, Your Highness," he sincerely replied, bowing very low. "How may I serve you?"

"I need your advice, minister. I am very worried about the unrest in the city. I fear that in their anger, they may attack our people and those from other states who have come to Berlin to negotiate peace. What do you suggest?"

"Your Highness, your concern is reasonable, but isn’t it enough to calm the people’s anger to avoid such an incident, which would be a great humiliation?"

"Certainly, but how? We have tried many times, but they don’t listen to us. I even feel that the more we try to appease them, the more their anger grows."

Minister von Finckenstein remained silent for a moment, observing the prince as if trying to assess him. This made the prince feel quite uneasy.

"Your Highness, may I speak honestly?"

"Please do," replied the prince, making a small, elegant hand gesture.

"The people aren’t angry, they’re afraid. Afraid of what this peace treaty, which has been discussed for months behind closed doors, will contain. Because they know nothing of what’s happening right now, they fear the worst, and I’m afraid they may be right. The current situation of our kingdom is dire. The consequences for them and the kingdom can only be terrible as well. What they need is a bit of hope."

"Hope? How? If you’re talking about waging a major battle during the negotiations, I believe I’ve been clear. We don’t have the resources! And the outcome would be too uncertain. In the event of defeat, the people of Berlin might storm the royal palace."

"In that case, there’s only one solution."

"And what is that?" pressed the prince, his heart pounding with anticipation and dread.

"Do everything in your power to free His Majesty and His Highness before the signing of this treaty.

The people will be relieved, and perhaps we can regain the upper hand during the negotiations on the battlefield."

The prince trembled, but what the minister said made sense.

"Minister, the ransom for His Majesty..."

"Is negligible compared to the fate of the kingdom, Your Highness."

"Very well. Thank you for your advice. You’ve been a great help, and I see things more clearly."

"I am your servant," replied the politician, who seemed strangely relieved.

Prince Ferdinand let out a deep sigh and summoned someone to inform the French and Prussian diplomats, locked away in other parts of the palace, that he was ready to pay the ransom demanded by His Majesty Louis XV for His Majesty Frederick II and His Highness Prince Henry.

But just as he had finished dismissing the servant, another appeared, sweat beading on his forehead and looking utterly distressed.

"Y-Your Highness!"

"Hmm?! What’s going on?!"

Immediately, the prince imagined the worst. That one of his brothers had died or was suffering during their captivity; that the people of Berlin had risen up against the Crown; that the French, Imperials, Russians, Swedes, or Austrians had decided to launch a major attack somewhere; that an incident had occurred in one of the negotiation rooms, or something else.

"Your Majesty, a man has presented himself at the palace gates, claiming to possess information of the utmost importance! He says he’s an agent in service of His Majesty!"

Ferdinand had read espionage reports before, but he had never met a single spy, as their identity had to remain secret, naturally. Announcing oneself so openly at his doors was tantamount to condemning oneself or one’s career.

This... This must be really urgent!

"Bring him up, but use the other passage. He must not cross paths with anyone on his way here. The guards at the door must be immediately kept in isolation!"

"It’s already done, Your Highness!"

There were several passages, as in almost any palace worthy of the name. Some were known to ministers, courtiers, and servants; but there were others, known only to a select few, reserved for the inner circle of His Majesty and, possibly, his agents.

Shortly after, the faithful servant, who had spent his life in service to the Crown, returned accompanied by an old man whose modest appearance contrasted with the importance of his profession. Dressed in a brown coat matching his breeches and a burgundy waistcoat, nothing about him suggested that this man worked in the shadows of His Majesty for the good of the kingdom.

His long hair, naturally white like snow, was tied back into a long ponytail that brushed between his shoulder blades with each movement. This was a notable feature of the man, but his eyes were even more striking. They were so sharp that it felt as though one were dealing with a much younger man. There was a power in them that commanded respect, similar to that of veterans who had fought many wars.

"Your Highness, thank you for receiving me. It is an honor to meet you, even though the circumstances are dire."

What?! This is my brother's spy?! But he’s an old man! Ah, but that gaze! It chills me to the bone! There’s no doubt he has gathered much experience! Perhaps he’s been serving the kingdom as long as my brother?

A shiver slowly ran through the prince’s young body.

"O-One has told me that you have information of the utmost importance to deliver. What is it?"

"Yes, Your Highness. I regret to inform you that several generals and high-ranking officers have betrayed His Majesty and gone over to the enemy. They are, at this very moment, gathering their armies to defect and offer themselves to the French and the Imperials, along with a vast amount of military equipment!"

"What?!"

The prince could hardly believe what he was hearing, so shocked was he. He knew, of course, who this man was talking about.

They did this?! They dared?!

"The leaders of this group are Messrs. von Zieten, von Finckenstein, de la Motte-Fouqué, and Brunswick-Bevern."

"Von Finckenstein..." murmured the prince, not expecting to hear that name.

So you too have betrayed us...

"Here is the proof, Your Highness, of their treason," said the old man, handing over a series of letters, all signed and dated. "I fear that seeing peace about to be signed with our enemies, they decided to abandon the kingdom, their honor, and His Majesty in order to preserve their estates, enrich themselves, and possibly gain favorable treatment from our enemies."

As he spoke, the prince nervously scanned the various documents. Each was more incriminating than the last! One of them directly implicated Minister von Finckenstein, in league with his brother.

Time seemed to freeze in the study.

Disappointment gave way to wild, destructive rage. His breathing became short and heavy, while his heart pounded violently in his chest, echoing in his head like a war drum. His blood began to boil in his veins, preventing him from thinking clearly. He felt a monstrous, uncontrollable urge to kill and destroy everything around him.

Those who knew the prince well understood how gentle and calm he normally was. If they could see him now, they would surely believe they were dealing with a completely different person.

When his voice finally rose, it cracked like thunder.

"Arrest Minister von Finckenstein immediately! He must still be in the palace! And arrest Messrs. von Zieten, von Finckenstein, de la Motte-Fouqué, and Brunswick-Bevern for high treason, right now!" roared the prince, his voice echoing throughout the palace.

The spy, John Ingham, smiled inwardly. Within minutes, at the palace gates, the minister was seized, pale with terror and anger, proclaiming his innocence and accusing the prince of betraying his own blood and kingdom.

New rumors quickly spread through Berlin, adding to the many others, and making the people of Berlin even more anxious about their future.