I transmigrated as a french soldier during XVIIIth century

Berlin seemed so peaceful at this hour. It was hard to imagine that, for days, the people of this capital had been relentlessly taking to the streets, demanding peace, lower prices—becoming outrageous as the war dragged on—and justice against war profiteers and traitors.

Everything was so calm.

No one was outside, which wasn’t surprising given the time and the weather. It was nearly midnight, and the rain was so heavy that the streets of Berlin had turned into raging rivers, carrying along a large amount of debris. The powerful downpour had started earlier in the evening and showed no sign of letting up.

The large, forceful raindrops pounded on the roofs and the ground, drowning out every other sound, even that of the black-and-gold carriage speeding along the streets. Pulled by two sturdy horses and regularly whipped by a coachman drenched to the bone despite his long black coat and leather tricorne, the carriage made an infernal racket. The coachman’s face was barely illuminated by a large lantern swinging to his right on a metal hook. Like a pendulum, it swayed back and forth, side to side, with the carriage’s movements.

No one stopped him when he finally passed through the city gates to the west, and no one came to greet the two distinguished passengers, seated across from one another inside.

Despite the quality of the carriage, nothing could stop the two men from being violently jostled. Sitting in deep scarlet seats, they held onto whatever they could to avoid being thrown about and possibly injured.

The rain made a deafening noise on the carriage roof. It was like an endless drumroll.

The vehicle passed through the royal palace gates under the blank stares of the guards, just as soaked as the coachman. They barely had time to straighten up and salute, as they had been informed of the situation.

At the entrance of the palace, sheltered from the rain, stood Prince Ferdinand, his face betraying his exhaustion. Dark circles under his eyes, still visible despite his makeup, seemed to want to reach the corners of his mouth, and his eyes revealed a deep lack of sleep.

Beside him stood several ministers, but that was all. One could say it was a very modest reception.

As soon as the carriage came to a halt, a hunched man in a long brown coat over fine clothing stepped out and fixed his sharp, though tired, eyes on the few people who had come to greet him.

This reception was just what he had asked for, as the mood on this March 30th was far from celebratory.

A second man, younger and dressed similarly, exited the carriage and briskly walked toward the main door of the royal palace.

“Henry.”

“Ferdinand.”

The two princes embraced and remained so for several seconds before parting.

“Your Majesty!” said Prince Ferdinand, uncertain if he could embrace his brother.

Frederick II opened his arms and hugged his younger brother.

“Your Majesty, August Wilhelm…”

“I know. The French told me the news,” said the king sadly, thinking of his brother’s face.

Though they had quarreled violently after the Battle of Kolin, August Wilhelm was still his brother. It was in captivity that he had learned of his younger brother’s death. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to see him one last time, as he had already been buried.

I… I don’t even remember the last thing I said to him. I was too harsh with him. I said things… I should never have said. And now he’s gone. I’ll have to live with this regret for the rest of my days, like all my other regrets.

When he had heard the sad news, he had isolated himself and wept for him. In his anger, he had forgotten that his brother wasn’t a brilliant general and that, like any man, he could make mistakes.

He himself had made many.

“Let’s not stay here. Let’s go inside,” said the king, simply nodding to his ministers in greeting.

Despite the lit candles, the palace had a sinister feel at this hour. Almost everyone was asleep, unaware that the most important figure in the Kingdom of Prussia had been freed. It had all been done in secret on March 21st, his ransom and that of His Highness Prince Henry having been fully paid thanks to the sale of the properties of the generals who had rebelled.

Even though it was later discovered that it wasn’t quite a rebellion, the prince had ordered the seizure and sale of all their mansions and townhouses. After all, the urgency was to free the king and his brother. More than being nobles of the kingdom, they embodied the kingdom itself. The longer they remained away from the palace, the more vulnerable the kingdom became.

Led by a handful of servants, they entered a large, richly furnished room where a large fire had been burning for several hours. The temperature was so pleasant that one could easily discard their coat and even their jacket.

A large red-and-gold armchair, topped with the crowned Prussian eagle with spread wings holding a scepter in one claw and a globus cruciger in the other, was brought near the fire, and the old king sat down. The others remained standing, content to simply see their master in good health again.

Prince Ferdinand felt his emotions overflow, and a tear of joy rolled down his gaunt cheek, thinned by his trials. The orange flames illuminated the old monarch’s face, highlighting his strained features and tense muscles.

Finally, I am back. I have returned, I am finally home, thought the king, with both joy and sorrow, his gaze lost in the flames, barely feeling their warmth.

“You did well, my brother,” he finally said, weakly raising his head to look at August Ferdinand, whom he barely recognized. “It couldn’t have been easy.”

“I… I did my best, but I fear it wasn’t enough.”

Frederick felt his heart twist in pain. He shook his head.

“The situation you and the ministers found yourselves in is entirely my responsibility. I offer you my apologies and am ready to face the consequences.”

“Your Majesty…” the ministers stammered in surprise, despair growing in their hearts.

“I was informed of the situation during my captivity, but many details were withheld. Tell me everything.”

There was a moment of silence, a moment that seemed to last an eternity. No one knew who should speak first or where to begin. Finally, it was Prince Ferdinand who started. His thoughts were somewhat disordered, but he managed to roughly summarize the kingdom’s situation by recounting the various events that had taken place between this emotional day and the sorrowful day of his capture at Rossbach.

The more the prince spoke, the darker the old king’s face became. His small movements, especially of his arms and legs, made it clear he was deeply agitated.

He froze completely when his brother finished.

My God… It’s worse than I feared!

“I see,” he sighed, turning his gaze back to the tall flames in the large fireplace, richly adorned with golden sculptures. “So that’s what happened. Do we know what became of our officers who followed von Zieten?”

“General von Seydlitz’s death has been confirmed, as well as that of the heir to Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. We’ve been told they died heroically. We… we still don’t know about the Prince of Brunswick-Bevern. Generalleutnant de la Motte-Fouqué managed to flee with General von Zieten. It was with his flintlock pistol that he took his own life in Bremen

“I see. Where is he now?”

“He surrendered to the French, Your Majesty, to avoid the axe, as he had been sentenced to death for treason, like the others.”

Frederick stared heavily at his younger brother, Ferdinand, who flinched under his gaze. He didn’t mean to intimidate him, but it was true that he blamed him greatly for this tragedy. He felt his heart grow even colder and constrict further. The more he learned about the course of events during his absence, the more guilt weighed upon him. If he hadn’t failed at Rossbach and been captured, none of this would have happened.

“What a waste. So many men lost in vain.”

Prince Ferdinand felt so ashamed that he instinctively shrank, as if trying to disappear.

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and a ticking sound from a small clock in the corner of the room, near an impressive harp and a harpsichord, both as richly decorated as the fireplace.

“I want to see von Finckenstein,” the king finally said. “Don’t bring him up, I will go down.”

***

The former minister now looked like a vagabond. Chained like a wild animal, he had grown a terrible beard. The stench was unbearable, though he could no longer even smell it. Having no one to talk to, he had begun speaking to himself aloud. Sometimes he was aware of what he was doing, but often, he didn’t realize he wasn’t just thinking.

“Stupid! Idiot! Fool! I’ve ruined everything! I’ve condemned my kingdom! But it’s not entirely my fault, is it? No, I was trapped! It could have happened to anyone, anyone. The prince, the prince was tricked too. I’m not alone, no, no, no. So why am I the only one imprisoned?! What an injustice!”

Clack, clack, clack.

“Huh? What? Someone’s coming?”

Who’s coming? Who is it? What do they want? Your Highness!

His eyes, wide open as if to capture all the light entering his cell, saw a large group of men, all dressed very elegantly. Several couldn’t help but step back from the foul smell, while others quickly held lace handkerchiefs to their delicate mouths and noses.

“Y-Your Majesty?! I-is it really you?”

Is this real?! Has he really been freed?! My God, let this not be a dream!

“Monsieur Minister, how you have changed. I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

“Ah, yes, ah ah, I’ve changed, yes.”

The man looked so pitiful that the nobles present no longer even thought of punishing him. From their perspective, it was as if he had already been severely punished for his crimes.

“Lord von Finckenstein, you made a grave mistake, and it cost us dearly.”

“Your Majesty, I am guilty! But hear me! I was trapped! Everything I did was for the good of the kingdom!”

“For the good of the kingdom... My dear minister, my dear friend,” Frederick said in a terribly cold voice, “you have greatly disappointed me.”

“Y-Your Majesty?” stammered von Finckenstein, trembling in despair.

I... I’ve disappointed His Majesty? Yes, I’ve disappointed His Majesty! I’m guilty! But forgive me! I... I... Please don’t hate me, I beg you!

“I thought you were smarter than that. You were tricked, yes. Like a child. Tell me, if this man, this spy, had claimed to be the resurrected Christ, would you have followed him with the same blindness?"

“…"

“Do you know that because of your mistake, we suffered another defeat? Von Zieten, Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, and von Seydlitz are dead, along with several thousand of our men. The rest have scattered and will likely never fight under our banner again, the Prince of Brunswick-Bevern is missing, and de la Motte-Fouqué has surrendered to the enemy.”

“My God…” groaned the minister, more and more desperate, though more concerned for the kingdom than for himself.

It really is my fault! My God, what have I done! I’ve truly condemned my kingdom! Unforgivable!

“Yes,” the old king sighed, “your mistake has cost us greatly. Even if you were trapped, even if your intentions were good, someone must be punished. I sentence you to death by beheading. Farewell, my friend,” murmured Frederick, his face twisted in pain. “May God forgive us both.”

***

They left the cell, forcibly ignoring the prisoner’s screams that echoed through the corridors and down the stone stairs, and returned to the beautiful sitting room. The King of Prussia felt as though he could still hear the cries of his friend, the one who had supported him so much, especially in his youth when he had defied his father, the fearsome Frederick William I, who should have earned the nickname "the Merciless."

"Your Majesty..." began Prince Henry, who was well aware of the special relationship he had with this man, whom he had placed in a key position because he trusted him.

"I want to see our diplomats and those sent by our enemies first thing tomorrow morning—or rather, in a few hours."

"Sire?" one of Frederick’s ministers stammered, his eyes wide as marbles.

"W-what will you tell them?" asked Henry, his voice trembling under the surge of emotion that had suddenly risen like a tsunami.

"That this war is over," he said, in an oddly calm voice, stunning everyone present.

The Treaty of Berlin, signed on April 14, 1758, was the testament of Prussia as it had existed. It took many long days to reach an agreement with King Louis XV of France, Emperor Francis I of the Holy Roman Empire, Empress Elizabeth I of Russia, Queen Maria Theresa of Austria, and King Adolf Frederick of Sweden.

Never before had such a treaty been seen, so terrible it was for the defeated. In many ways, it resembled a suicide note. These monarchs themselves were surprised by what was proposed and could only accept each term one by one.

The first article concerned war indemnities to be paid to each of Prussia’s adversaries. The final sum was so staggering that it was clear Prussia could never recover on its own. In the preamble, it was acknowledged that Frederick II was the sole and only person responsible for all the destruction and deaths that had occurred during this short conflict, originally launched to retain control of wealthy Silesia and gain the Electorate of Saxony.

The second article, certainly the most important, detailed the territorial changes. Austria officially regained its precious Silesia, one of the major stakes of the War of Austrian Succession. It also reclaimed the vast region of Bohemia and some territories from Brandenburg.

Russia acquired nothing less than the entirety of the Prussian enclave located within the Kingdom of Poland, known as "the Kingdom of Prussia" or "East Prussia."

Many years earlier, in 1701, the Holy Roman Empire had granted Frederick II's grandfather, then Elector of Brandenburg and Duke of Prussia, Frederick III, the title of King in Prussia. It was a reward for his loyalty, bravery, and all the qualities so highly sought after among the Empire’s nobles.

But the backstabbing inflicted on the emperor by Frederick II when he decided to attack Saxony and Austrian territories was too cruel not to be punished severely. It was therefore decided to strip him of this exceptional privilege. The emperor naturally reclaimed everything that had been lost, along with a few other territories, and Frederick ceased to be king, reverting to merely a duke.

The Kingdom of France gained, in addition to the lands taken from the King of Great Britain, a few territories in Brandenburg. However, since these lands were far from the kingdom’s borders, the Crown sold them to the emperor for a handsome sum. Hanover remained in the hands of the French for the moment, as they intended to use it later as a bargaining chip with the elderly King George II.

As for Sweden, it obtained nothing more than its war indemnity, having failed to seize any territories during the conflict.

The following articles primarily aimed to protect the people of Prussia and their property. For Frederick, this was the most important point. No foreign army, especially the French army—whose terrible reputation was well-known in the city—was to occupy Berlin or any city of the former Kingdom of Prussia. The duchy was once again under the authority of Emperor Francis I and under his protection.

Then, provisions were made concerning the soldiers, ordering them to cease all activities immediately. Any violent action would be considered banditry. Consequently, any recalcitrant soldiers caught would be hanged. Naturally, all weapons were to be seized and destroyed.