Chapter 40 – Golden Eagle
September 1707
“Yes, my Lord Ambassadors, yes, right this way.” Viktor von PreuBen stumbled on a step as he walked backwards down a familiar narrow hallway. He dropped some of the maps and copies of treaties that he carried. A couple of young pages, who by now able to predict when the clumsy old man would trip, scooped them up. Viktor himself spun around on the ball of his foot, then fell forward, but grabbed the stairs in front of him and stumbled forward just enough to regain his footing.
“Mein Gott!” shouted the lead Hamburger “Are you alright, man?”
“Just fine, err.” He stuttered, suddenly realizing that his hat was on backwards. A couple of the other Hamburg representatives giggled, but everyone sensibly ignored them.
By the time they had reached Friedrich Wilhelm IV’s study, he had gotten his clothing straightened up.
“Emperor, I don’t mean to disturb you, but...”
“Ah,” said Friedrich Wilhelm. “Ambassador, my apologies for not getting back with you. As you understand, these are...difficult times.”
“You have my sympathies, Emperor. I’m sure the boy will pull through.” Said the Ambassador. “The Elector sends his regards as well.”
Less than three weeks ago, there was an unfortunate accident. The young crown prince was training in artillery command, he was ordering a green crew of cannoneers and pointing out targets on the firing range when the explosion happened. Exactly which of the inexperienced soldiers was responsible was debated; two of them were killed instantly, one lost an arm and almost a dozen were injured by shrapnel. The Emperor’s cousin had been blown backwards and struck his head on the next cannon in the line.
While he was conscious, able to eat, and slowly recovering from the relatively minor burns and cuts, it was clear that he would never walk, talk or play chess again. While everyone was grateful that he would live, it was clear that he would not be physically nor mentally capable of ruling and would have to be cut out of the line of succession.
That possibility opened up a can of worms. At least four branches of the von Gerdorff family might be ambitious enough to take advantage of the situation. Vera in Ansbach was eyeing the prince’s lands in Hesse, Hildegrad was no doubt concocting another mad plan, and no less than three other male cousins served in the Prussian officer corps.
Viktor was concerned about the potential effects that he weighed the possibility that the explosion was no accident. He had begun an investigation and had scheduled an interview with the only other surviving soldier who had been near the cannon, but the young man had unfortunately succumbed to his injuries just a few days ago.
The military advisor, Gebhard Schach, was blaming himself, as he had suggested the reserve artillery to be both an educational and relatively safe posting for the heir to the throne. Gebhard was still in his early thirties, and he would learn in time that it wasn’t his fault. The Schachs were a traditional military family who owed everything to the crown of Prussia. Viktor had no reason to doubt his innocence, but after that the list of suspects was long. Or mabye it was just an accident. Accidents happen all the time, as the abrasions on his hands reminded Viktor of his latest embarrassing stumble on the palace steps.
There was no doubt that Prussia would help the electorate of Hamburg expand the Holy Roman Empire deeper into Scandinavia. The prospect of warfare seemed to focus the Emperor, and Viktor noticed him slowly come back to life as the reality of the need to mobilize the state set in. But Viktor hoped that the project did not cause too much of a distraction, for Fredrich Wilhelm IV still needed to win the battle within himself and find the courage to spend time alone with his wife.
February 1710
Aniela woke from a shudder after a frightened dream. Recently, she had heard reports about shipments of seditious tracts of propaganda being intercepted by Prussian border guards. They had called for the overthrow and execution of all princes, kings and emperors. She suffered from nightmares often, but the population rising up to execute the nobility was a new one.
This was clearly the result of her husband’s strange and disturbing ideas about the rights of the people. Clearly, the peasants have gotten ideas about their own self-importance. As she ate breakfast, her nerves calmed and she was able to rationally realize that such dangerous were unlikely, uprisings had always been quickly suppressed by the Prussian army and they lived in probably the most prosperous time in history. She felt grateful that she was born at the top of society, it almost compensated her for all the stress that came with it.
It was not the life she choose. If she wasn’t so aware of her father’s cruel anger, she would not have married Friedrich Wilhelm IV. From a long line of intimidating namesakes, the Emperor had nothing but distaste for her. She preferred to avoid him, but the elder Empress Janina and the other noblewomen were capable of their own cruelties.
The war against Sweden was fortunately occupying most people’s attention in the wake of that horrible cannon accident. She had been largely left alone, which she preferred, but still the sounds of cannons made her jump. The clumsy trade minister Vikor von PreuBen had visited, and awkwardly asked questions about what she knew about the accident and if she had anything to gain. She repeated the truth, that she did not know anything, that she did not have ambitious for her children.
She did not like the way that the Emperor touched her the few times they slept together. Since both seemed to abhor each other’s presence more than they wanted children of their own, and there were plenty of other von Gersdorff cousins in line that it did not seem necessary. There were Friedrich Georges and Wilhelm Friedrichs and Georg Wilhelms and even a Friedrich Wilhelm Georg mixed in there. If she ever had children, they would only have one name.
April 1713
“Mazel Tov!” said the administrative advisor, Thomas von Ziethen, after hearing the news that Fredrich Wilhelm IV would not be attending the council meeting in order to attend to the Empress and his newborn son, Friedrich. Thomas noticed that Gebhard Schach broke into one of his rare smiles upon hearing the news. He had helped engineer the victory over Sweden, though Hamburg took the lead on negotiations, taking a major swatch of Scandinavian territory and returning some land to the Norwegian government-in-exile, but still blamed himself for the tragic cannon explosion many years ago.
“I don’t know how you did it, Benedikt, to mind things between our royal couple.” Thomas added. The other minister, Benedikt Treskaw, leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin on his face.
“Diplomacy.” Replied Benedikt Treskaw after a short pause. The man was a silver-tongued social climber, noticed for his ability to cover for Fredrich Wilhelm IV’s faux paus during the peace negotiations with Sweden. After Viktor von PreuBen broke his neck falling down the stairs again, Treskaw was a natural pick to fill the position.
“Speaking of diplomacy,” continued Treskaw as he straightened up in his chair, “we do have a meeting scheduled. Things are proceeding well in the Netherlands, and I have made our merchants and officers know that the Dutch should be treated with all the respect they deserve as full citizens.”
“Splendid,” said Thomas. He approved. Although Prussia was ruled with a strong, absolutist fist, Fredrich Wilhelm IV was very tolerant towards his subjects. Thomas was glad that his own talents were recognized, as there were times in Prussia’s past, such as during the era of the zealous Georg Wilhelm, when Jews like him were not as accepted.
“What about the Commonwealth?” asked Schach, “The addition of the Dutch provinces to our realm has strained the burden on our military-state.”
“Anton?” asked Benedikt, and in seconds his prodigious aide had the necessary files in hand. The three advisors then poured over the details of Prussia’s new arrangement with the Polish people. The old Commonwealth state would be reconstituted as a march, with the understanding that any future lands liberated from the Ottomans would fall under either it or Danzig’s jurisdiction.
“Finally,” said Benedikt Treskaw once the details of the Commonwealth march were hammered out, “We need to address this currency scheme of yours, Ziethen.”
“The treasury is running dry,” rationalized Thomas von Ziethen, “and the revenues from Frisia haven’t fully geared up. We are just debasing the coinage a slight percentage to keep the budget balanced.”
“That sort of metallurgic trickery inevitably leads to corruption. But on the whole, I would say that we are moving in the right direction. This meeting is adjourned; let’s go meet our new prince.”
(I resumed my Hanover game after a break. Miscalculated the first battle; thought a smaller force could take down a larger but demoralized force in a sneak attack, turns out demoralized endgame cannons can still kill by the thousands. Whoops. I could flight out this coalition war until the end of the game, but it's unlikely that I can turn the war around, capture most of whats left of England and core it in the 2.5 years before 1821. GG. Started a new game as Ming to see what life is like in East Asia. Have some RP constraints that I put on myself that might make good AAR material...once the Prussia project is done.)