"What a beautiful day!"
On April 13, 1861, bathed in the gentle warmth of spring, Smith stretched lazily, opened his eyes, and murmured to himself.
Thinking back to the acupuncture treatment he had received a few days earlier, Smith still found it surreal. The more he reflected, the more he marveled at the intricate connection between personal destiny and the tides of history.
Imagine this: without the historical milestone of Khitan establishing diplomatic relations with Prussia, Lin Zexu likely wouldn't have visited Prussia. Without Lin Zexu's visit, those skilled imperial physicians wouldn't have accompanied him. And without their treatment, Smith might still be mute today, and his already precarious position as Crown Prince would have become increasingly untenable over time.
"The wisdom of elders truly is the best," Smith mused as he climbed out of his crib.
The freedom to speak and move was so exhilarating that Smith had been in a state of high spirits for days. Every morning after getting up, he would wander aimlessly around the Crown Prince's palace. At first, Victoria had been worried he might hurt himself, but after observing him for two days, she was surprised to find his steps steady and measured, not the least bit reckless. Relieved, she allowed him to roam freely, though she still assigned two trusted guards and a maid to follow him closely, just in case.
Smith didn't mind this at all. Unlike the covert "spy mission" he had undertaken that night, what he was doing now required no secrecy. For him, these strolls around the palace were essentially "morning exercise."
As the saying goes, you need to forge yourself strong before wielding iron. As a member of the Hohenzollern royal family, Smith knew that, whether he liked it or not, he would eventually have to train within the Prussian military. Starting to exercise now could only be beneficial.
But this wasn't just about exercise—it was also Smith's way of gathering information. Every day, he would visit the palace gatehouse to collect the day's newspapers and catch up on major domestic and international events.
Indeed, in any era, the media's understanding of complex issues often leaves much to be desired, and their reports are frequently biased. But one thing they excel at is getting to the scene of breaking news faster than anyone else. At the very least, Smith could rely on them to stay informed.
Moreover, the Crown Prince's palace didn't subscribe to just one newspaper but to several. Each paper had its own editorial slant and approach to covering events, allowing Smith to piece together a fuller picture of the news.
Today, however, all the newspapers had chosen the same explosive story for their front pages:
"The American Civil War!"
Yes, the Americans across the Atlantic had finally started fighting.
Even for outsiders, the Civil War in the United States was hardly surprising. As history textbooks in later eras would repeatedly emphasize, even among the original thirteen colonies, there were stark political and economic differences. Barely a few decades after its founding, the United States had already split into "free states" and "slave states" based on their policies toward slavery. The free states were concentrated in the North, while the slave states dominated the South. With shared geopolitical and economic interests, these two groups of states began to form their own blocs. The westward expansion only deepened the rift, as the South sought to extend slavery to the western territories, while the North stood firmly opposed.
The final breaking point came with the 1860 presidential election. Abraham Lincoln's victory marked the irreconcilable climax of the North-South conflict, making war inevitable. Many astute observers at the time saw this coming. Lincoln's predecessor, James Buchanan, a pro-slavery president, had even used his final months in office to funnel significant funds and arms to the South.
Meanwhile, Southern states were taking decisive political action. Just over a month after Lincoln's election, South Carolina, a slave state, passed a law declaring its secession from the Union. Within six weeks, six other Southern states followed suit, seizing federal properties and demanding control of federal forts within their territories.
By this point, the United States was effectively split.
The Southern states didn't stop there. In February 1861, they formed the Confederate States of America, commonly referred to as the "Confederacy," with Jefferson Davis, a Democrat, as their president. From then on, two governments officially coexisted within the original United States.
On March 4, Lincoln delivered his inaugural address as President of the United States, expressing deep concern for the future but also issuing a plea for peace, hoping that the North and South could resolve their differences through negotiation.
But Lincoln's hopes were one-sided. The Southern states were convinced that peaceful means could never achieve their goals. Given the North's superior industrial strength and population, any delay would only tip the scales further in the North's favor. For the South, striking first was the only viable option.
Two days after Lincoln's inaugural address, Confederate President Davis issued a fiery order:
He called for the Confederacy to recruit 100,000 volunteer soldiers.
The order shattered the fragile semblance of unity within the U.S. Army. Nearly a third of the regular army's officers resigned or were dismissed to join the South, and even cadets at West Point split along political lines, with many sneaking away to serve the Confederacy.
As a result, the Southern states quickly armed themselves. The Mexican-American War had ended just 13 years earlier, and many of the soldiers from that conflict—primarily Southerners—were still in their prime. With transferred weapons, financial support, and capable officers, the South rapidly assembled a formidable army.
Seeing the South mobilize, the North responded decisively. On April 8, the same day Smith learned of Lin Zexu's visit to Prussia, President Lincoln decided to send an expeditionary force to reinforce Fort Sumter in the South. The Confederacy seized this as the perfect opportunity to act. In the early hours of April 12, Confederate artillery opened fire on Fort Sumter, officially starting the war.
"Not a single deviation," Smith muttered, flipping through the newspapers as he walked back to the dining hall.
He noted that the timeline of events in this world's Civil War matched perfectly with the history he knew. True to its classical militaristic roots, the Prussian newspapers provided a detailed comparison of the North and South's respective strengths. A quick glance revealed that the balance of power in this timeline mirrored the historical record.
From that moment, Smith had already made up his mind: The South didn't stand a chance of winning this war.
Are you kidding? The 23 northern states had a population of 22.34 million, while the 7 southern states only had 9.1 million. In the critical industrial sector, the North boasted a staggering $1.5 billion in output, whereas the South barely reached 1% of that. The South was also at a significant disadvantage in terms of railway mileage, grain production, and industrial workers—not to mention that a significant portion of the southern population consisted of enslaved Black people.
How could the South possibly win this war?
But Smith, well-versed in history, also knew that despite the North's overwhelming advantages, the war dragged on from 1861 to 1865—a full four years. By the end, combined military and civilian casualties exceeded one million. Sure, one could attribute this to the South's tenacious fighting, but from another perspective, it was just as much a testament to the North's incompetence on the battlefield.
"Heh, looks like the U.S. military being bad at war is a time-honored tradition!"
As Smith sat back down at the dining table, this thought crossed his mind. Looking up, he noticed his father, Frederick, approaching with a troubled expression.
Though they had been married for over three years, Frederick and Victoria's affection for each other remained as strong as ever. Seeing her husband's gloomy demeanor, Victoria asked:
"Dear, are you still upset about the parliament issue?"
Frederick shrugged helplessly, silently confirming her guess. As Smith had long understood, Frederick's position was an awkward one. A liberal at heart, he was also the Crown Prince of the Hohenzollern dynasty and a high-ranking officer in the Prussian army. This put his political ideals at odds with his practical interests—and even his own ambitions contained inherent contradictions.
Take the current situation, for example. As a liberal, advocating for parliamentary power was only natural. But as the Crown Prince and a military leader, he stood to lose if the parliament used its fiscal authority to constrain military funding. No wonder he felt conflicted.
More importantly, as a prince determined to unify Germany, Frederick—who had been exposed to international politics and military affairs from a young age—understood that achieving unification in a Europe surrounded by powerful neighbors was a pipe dream without military force. And a strong military required large numbers of well-trained and well-equipped troops, precisely the kind of thing liberals and parliamentarians were most opposed to.
This was the core of Frederick's internal struggle.
Looking at Frederick, Smith suddenly found his father pitiable. He knew this kind of torment had accompanied him for most of his life. It might even have contributed to the throat cancer that eventually claimed him—after all, emotional repression could have real physical consequences.
"Aren't the king and the prime minister currently negotiating with the Khitans? Are the talks not going well?" Victoria pressed on. It was no secret in Berlin's political and economic circles that the government hoped to secure Khitan funding to resolve its financial crisis. Everyone also knew that if the deal succeeded, Prussia's immediate fiscal troubles would be alleviated.
"They're not going well," Frederick replied, staring at the steam rising from his coffee cup. "Someone's interfering—I even suspect someone leaked our bottom line to the Khitans…"
This didn't surprise Smith in the least. In fact, it would've been more shocking if no one had tried to sabotage such a critical negotiation. As for who might be behind it, Smith didn't have to think hard: it had to be someone from parliament. After all, if the negotiations succeeded, they stood to lose the most.
It was easy to imagine the Khitans relishing this internal strife. Sure, they genuinely wanted good relations with Prussia and valued Prussian military technology. But that didn't conflict with their desire to get the best deal possible. Money didn't grow on trees, after all—why not haggle if they had the chance?
This was, of course, the last thing Prussia wanted. But they had few options to counter it. Officially, they desperately needed the Khitan funds to weather the crisis. Privately, the Khitan imperial physician had just cured the Crown Prince's speech impediment. As the saying goes, "You can't bite the hand that feeds you." And with internal saboteurs leaking information, the Prussian government was clearly on the back foot.
Taking another sip of coffee, Frederick continued:
"Pessimistically speaking, even if we secure the funds from the Khitans, it might only keep the government and army running for three to four months. That's obviously not enough…"
Smith glanced sympathetically at Frederick, then at the newspaper. Finally, he decided to lend his father a hand. In his childish voice, he said:
"Father, look—the Americans are fighting a civil war. Why not make some money off it?"