Chương 35: "I’ve made up my mind—you shall be the Crown Prince!"
About ten minutes later, Friedrich opened the carriage door for Victoria, who was holding Smith in her arms. He himself leapt directly onto the driver's seat and spurred the horses toward Charlottenburg Palace.
Inside the carriage, Smith nestled in Victoria's arms, gazed at the snowstorm outside the window, his mind preoccupied with thoughts.
The situation was clear: today was a pivotal day in Smith's "political life." If all went smoothly, by the time the sun rose tomorrow, he might officially become the second heir to the Kingdom of Prussia. But if someone interfered, his future path would undoubtedly be fraught with complications.
For a brief moment, Smith felt the surreal nature of it all. As someone with a complete and confident personality, Smith never believed his worth or position needed to be defined by others. He saw himself as a self-sufficient entity.
But politics was a completely different matter. A person's political status depended entirely on how others defined and recognized it; without that, it was meaningless. And the standards for such recognition stemmed from complex historical and social realities, never within one's own control. It was something he could only passively accept—
—thus, a person's fate, of course, depended on self-struggle, but also on the course of history.
For Smith, this murky water of politics was something he had to dive into, whether he wanted to or not, because for him, this was "the course of history." Whether he could thrive in this chaos, however, was not something his own efforts could entirely determine.
At the very least, whether he could successfully ascend as Crown Prince was not something he could decide on his own.
Yet from the moment he had transmigrated into the body of "Smiling Willi," Smith had already lost any chance of retreat.
Thinking of this, Smith felt his mind grow restless. Glancing out the window again, it seemed as though the snow was falling even heavier.
The distance between Charlottenburg Palace and the Crown Prince's Palace wasn't far. Despite the snowstorm, the streets were nearly deserted, so Friedrich, a seasoned cavalryman with nerves of steel, drove at a daring speed. Before long, they arrived at Charlottenburg Palace.
Having been in this world for almost two years, Smith was no stranger to Charlottenburg Palace. But as soon as he stepped through its gates, he sensed an unprecedented tension. The crowded hall, filled with high-ranking officials and nobles, alone raised the tension to another level.
The moment Friedrich escorted Victoria and Smith into the palace, all eyes turned to the family. Some gazes focused on Friedrich, while others locked onto Smith.
Eyes carry energy—energy that can instill confidence and courage, or create pressure and unease. Smith could feel the energy in those gazes, most of which, unfortunately, were far from friendly.
Had Smith been just an ordinary two-year-old child, he might have been overwhelmed by such scrutiny. But with the experience of facing countless major events in his previous life, Smith remained unfazed. He met each gaze head-on, identifying their sources one by one. Unsurprisingly, eight out of ten of those hostile stares belonged to members of the Hohenzollern family.
"So this is the imperial family," Smith thought to himself with a hint of disdain.
"But if you think you can manipulate me like a mere child, you're sorely mistaken."
Encountering such a spectacle upon entering the palace, Smith was certain that today's events would not go entirely smoothly. Friedrich, too, was well aware of this. Though he maintained the composure of a Prussian Junker, he instinctively tightened his protective stance around his wife and son, quickening his steps slightly.
Moments later, they arrived before a grand and ornate door.
Smith recognized this room. It faced the King's bedroom and was originally used as the King's grand drawing room and office. However, since the King had ceased governing, this space had been practically abandoned. At least, during Smith's previous visits, it had appeared so.
But today was different. When two attendants opened the doors, Smith saw the once-spacious room now packed with people, including elders with snow-white hair. Judging by the scene, the combined lifespans of everyone present might very well exceed the length of German history.
Unsurprisingly, as the doors opened, all eyes turned toward them.
This kind of intense scrutiny was something Smith had already experienced earlier. It's said that people exude an aura, and the higher one's rank, the more commanding their presence. Those gathered here were undoubtedly the most powerful figures in Prussia, and their collective gaze was even more overwhelming. Even Smith, who had faced countless major occasions, couldn't help but pause momentarily.
Under such watchful eyes, the group entered the room. Only then did Smith have the chance to take a closer look. Unsurprisingly, the first person he noticed was his "grandfather," Regent Wilhelm. Standing beside him, with his signature mustache, was none other than Karl Anton von Hohenzollern.
Just one glance was enough for Smith to grasp the situation.
In many people's minds, Prussians are perceived as stoic and rational, far removed from impulsive, emotional actions. But after nearly two years in this world, Smith had come to see this as nothing more than a stereotype—an unrealistic romantic fantasy. From his observations, most Prussians of this era were prone to exaggerated impulsiveness, with rationality merely sprinkled in as an afterthought.
Consider this: dueling was rampant in Prussia during this time. Forget Bismarck's numerous "victories" in duels—even someone like Karl Marx had taken to the dueling ground with knives. How could such a nation not exhibit a streak of neurotic madness?
Take the two men standing before him now, arguably the most powerful figures in Prussia. Both had flushed faces and looked ready to burst. Clearly, they had been engaged in a heated argument—perhaps even a full-blown quarrel—just before Smith entered. Judging by the bulging veins on Wilhelm's hand as it gripped the hilt of his sword, Smith had no doubt that the "Prince of Grapeshot" was inwardly longing to cut the Prussian Prime Minister in half.
"Father, we're here!" Friedrich, evidently sensing the charged atmosphere in the room, stepped forward to address his father. His words were not only a reminder of reinforcements but also a subtle signal that there were now ladies and children present in the room—
—he knew his father's temper all too well.
"Good," Wilhelm seemed to regain some composure. Though his flushed face couldn't change quickly, his tone softened noticeably. Turning to Victoria, he said:
"I apologize for summoning you here in such weather, but the King might—"
"There's no need to apologize," Victoria interrupted. Though she had little fondness for her father-in-law, she knew that in such a setting, she had no choice but to stand by his side.
"I am a wife of the Hohenzollern family. This is my duty."
To emphasize her identity, Victoria deliberately stressed the pronunciation of "Hohenzollern."
The Prince Regent, William, gave a subtle nod, as if acknowledging the unspoken bond between himself and the British Empire's Princess Royal. For a moment, he seemed to better understand that this woman, despite everything, was still family. With a look of approval and gratitude, he glanced at Victoria, then at his son, feeling a renewed sense of confidence in his position.
"Excuse me," said Prince Regent William, turning to Karl Anton von Hohenzollern and then addressing the room.
"I believe my brother would want his family to be with him in his final moments."
Smith noticed that as the Prince Regent spoke, he quickly scanned the faces of those present, as though assessing the balance of power in the room. Clearly, he wasn't entirely confident that his supporters held the upper hand. Truthfully, if it had been that easy to gain the upper hand, then Smith's opportunistic grandfather, William, might as well have been wasting his years as Regent!
But this didn't mean the Prime Minister, Karl Anton von Hohenzollern, would yield so easily. Just as the Prince Regent prepared to lead his family to the King's chamber, the Prime Minister interjected:
"Perhaps His Majesty would also wish to have his Prime Minister and other key ministers present," Karl Anton said, stroking his beard. "After all, we are, in a sense, his family too."
At this, the Prince Regent visibly hesitated.
William knew exactly what Karl Anton was plotting—just as Karl Anton fully understood William's own calculations. Frederick William IV was certain to die within hours, possibly even within the next moment. But as long as the King still drew breath, William remained only the Regent, with limited authority. This gave the Prime Minister more opportunities to exert influence and force William to weigh his options.
However, the moment Frederick William IV passed away, William would automatically ascend from Regent to King under Prussian succession law, even without a formal coronation. At that point, within the framework of Prussian law and constitution, any decision made by the King would carry full legal authority, leaving no room for reversal.
Naturally, the Prime Minister could not allow the Prince Regent and his family to be alone with the King during his final moments.
But William couldn't find a suitable excuse to refuse Karl Anton's request. After a brief pause, he finally said, "The Prime Minister's suggestion is reasonable. Please, come along."
He spoke without even turning back.
The door to the room opened again, and the group moved down the corridor toward the King's chamber. Before they could enter, Karl Anton quickly stepped closer to William and said,
"Your Highness, I urge you to reconsider the matter of appointing a Crown Grandson."
"Prime Minister," William stopped and turned to face him, carefully controlling his tone.
"Let me remind you once again—this is a family matter."
"This is a Hohenzollern family matter," Karl Anton retorted without backing down, gesturing to the ministers behind him.
"And it is also a matter of state."
Smith had anticipated this. While Prussia had its own constitution and parliament, it was far from a constitutional monarchy. The Prussian constitution granted the monarch significant governing powers with few real restrictions, meaning that Prussia remained essentially an autocracy.
Even so, an autocratic monarch could not govern alone. He relied on a cabinet of ministers, all appointed by him, and this cabinet was filled with Hohenzollerns. Thus, family matters and state affairs in Prussia were deeply intertwined.
For many in the room—especially the Hohenzollerns—opposing the appointment of a Crown Grandson would serve their interests, none more so than the Prime Minister himself. This made the opposition's strength considerable.
The situation was becoming increasingly complex.
William had clearly brought Frederick and Victoria—and Smith—here with a plan in mind. Hearing Karl Anton's words, the Prince Regent nodded and said,
"That does not conflict with my authority. But let me remind you—the final decision lies with me. Are you questioning my judgment?"
Karl Anton dared not directly confront this statement. Instead, he quickly pivoted, saying,
"I would never question your judgment..."
William had been waiting for this. Before Karl Anton could finish, he cut him off:
"Then this matter becomes interesting—unless, of course, you believe the child's health presents an irreversible obstacle?"
This was a pointed and deeply cutting remark. It was true that Smith's speech impairment was a fact, but ongoing treatment was showing progress. Who could definitively say the condition was permanent? Even if they believed it—or hoped for it—voicing such thoughts in front of the child's mother would be a grave insult. And Victoria, as the British Princess Royal, was not someone they could afford to offend.
As expected, Karl Anton was momentarily at a loss for words, and the situation reached a stalemate. At that moment, the King's chamber door burst open, and a doctor rushed out, looking stunned.
"The King... the King has passed away..." he stammered.
"What?!"
The room erupted in a chorus of shocked exclamations. William was the first to step into the chamber, followed closely by the others.
Frederick William IV's body lay on the bed, serene as if he were merely asleep. William approached his brother's body, visibly moved, and performed a heartfelt display of grief. Once the performance concluded, the new King William wiped away his tears, turned to face the room, and declared,
"My brother has left us. May he rest in peace."
"May Your Majesty find solace!" someone quickly interjected.
"May Your Majesty find solace!" the ministers echoed, bowing and saluting in unison. Yet, the true sentiments behind their words were known only to themselves.
"A nation cannot go a day without a king, nor can it go a day without an heir!" King William said, looking at the crowd.
"From this day forward, Frederick shall be Crown Prince!"
This was no surprise. The ministers offered their cautious congratulations.
Before the words of congratulations had fully settled, William's gaze shifted to Smith, who met his grandfather's eyes with equal intensity.
In that moment of mutual scrutiny, King William continued,
"And from this day forward—"
At that instant, Karl Anton made one final attempt to intervene:
"Your Majesty, please reconsider!"
For a brief moment, Smith saw a flicker of hesitation in King William's eyes. He knew it was time to demonstrate his own strength.
He smiled—a sweet, warm smile. At this moment, for a child who could not yet speak, what better way to show strength than with such a smile?
The smile struck King William like a thunderbolt, sweeping away his hesitation. Even his tone softened.
"This is, of course, a well-considered decision."
With that, King William stepped forward, gently placed a hand on Smith's head, and said warmly yet firmly,
"I have decided—you shall be Crown Grandson!"
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