"Hmm—!"
Upon hearing those words, Friedrich felt a jolt in his chest, so much so that the sip of coffee he had just taken almost sprayed out of his mouth. His eyes widened as he stared intently at Smith, then glanced at Victoria, who was seated across the dining table. Unsurprisingly, he found the same look of astonishment on his wife's face.
"Willy, what did you just say?!"
As if to confirm that he hadn't misheard, Friedrich softly asked Smith.
"Father, I was saying we should seize this opportunity to make a fortune from the war!" Smith replied earnestly.
Though his voice still carried the soft, childish tone of a toddler, his enunciation was clear and precise. Both Friedrich and Victoria heard every word without missing a syllable.
"My God! Willy, where did you learn such words? Do you even understand what they mean?"
Victoria's incredulous voice rang out. Though she had long known her son was something of a prodigy, hearing such remarks from the mouth of a child barely over two years old was still...
...a bit unsettling.
"Mother, I believe I know exactly what I'm saying," Smith replied calmly.
"The Americans are at war, and they need weapons. We have weapons, but we need money. So why not trade our weapons for their money?"
"Oh, my dear God…" Friedrich's tone shifted as he turned to look at Victoria. His gaze seemed to say, "What did I tell you? Our son truly is a genius." After steadying himself, Friedrich looked back at Smith and asked in a gentle yet probing tone:
"My dear son, how did you come up with this idea?"
"From the newspapers," Smith replied.
"Although these papers are filled with tedious commentary, they at least provide some useful information. And that information is enough for me to make judgments."
"Go on."
Friedrich fixed his gaze on his son, his voice no longer resembling that of an adult speaking to a child. Instead, it was the tone of one adult engaging with another.
"Among all the information, data is the most critical."
Smith's voice, though still soft and childlike, conveyed ideas far beyond his years. It was almost absurd—what two-year-old could even string together coherent sentences, let alone articulate such complex thoughts?
"From the data, it's clear that the United States is the fastest-growing industrial power in the world. Its industrial output now ranks among the top five globally," Smith began, his thoughts remarkably clear.
"However, the distribution of this output is uneven. The so-called Northern states account for the vast majority of industrial production, while the Southern states produce only about one percent of that scale. Moreover, in terms of industrial workers, the South has less than one-tenth of the North's total workforce—
—This means their per capita output is only one-tenth of the North's. In other words, the North can produce more expensive and complex industrial goods, while the South's industry is relatively low-end, focused on simpler, lower-value production.
Clearly, when it comes to munitions—critical to modern warfare—the South's production capacity is no match for the North's. And considering their potential, it's highly unlikely they could quickly achieve self-sufficiency. I even doubt whether their capacity could sustain a medium- to low-intensity conflict."
"Interesting. Keep going!"
Friedrich's eyes gleamed with interest. For a moment, he even forgot his son was only two years old.
"But this war will not be a medium- or low-intensity conflict!" Smith declared.
"The United States has effectively split into two nations, each with fundamentally different economic structures and ideologies. This divergence inevitably leads to vastly different institutional frameworks. Since both sides seek to impose their system on the other, this cannot be a mere border skirmish. It can only be a fight to the death—a war of total annihilation. Unless one side is completely destroyed, this war will not end!"
"You've already grasped that much…" Friedrich murmured, almost to himself.
"That's not all," Smith continued, noting Friedrich's reaction but deciding to fully commit to making a splash. After taking a sip of milk to wet his throat, he pressed on:
"The South's inability to produce sufficient munitions is almost certain. But the North's munitions are also destined to fall short of demand, at least in the early stages of the war."
"And why is that?" Friedrich, now thoroughly captivated by Smith's reasoning, asked. As a senior officer in the Prussian military, Friedrich had a deep understanding of European military affairs. However, he had little interest in the Americans across the ocean—Americans? Do they even know how to fight a war?
"Because the United States has only a tiny standing army," Smith replied without hesitation.
"Their Congress views a standing army as a threat to democracy, so they're reluctant to allocate even a single dollar more than necessary. Even with a standing force of just 30,000 men, the army suffers from chronic underfunding—so much so that soldiers often go hungry and even develop scurvy on land. Their weapons are equally outdated and lack sufficient ammunition. The artillery is obsolete, and the war reserve stockpiles include relics from the Revolutionary War. Even those are plagued by ammunition shortages. If the reports are accurate, their rifles average fewer than 100 rounds per gun, and their artillery shells are in similarly dire straits. If a major conflict breaks out, the North's ammunition reserves will likely be depleted after just one or two large battles."
In truth, Smith hadn't gleaned this information from the newspapers. He had memorized it from materials left behind by "Smiling Willi" in his previous life. Of course, those materials pertained to the historical timeline of his original world. Smith had no guarantee that the same conditions applied in this timeline. But given his current age, what did it matter if he was wrong?
"Then why can't the Northern states mobilize their military industry to ramp up production?" Friedrich didn't question Smith's data but instead posed another inquiry.
"For the same reasons I mentioned earlier. The United States' military industry is underdeveloped. Directly expanding production capacity takes time. And given their mobilization capabilities, redirecting civilian industry to military production will clearly require even more time. During this period of expansion, their army will be exceptionally vulnerable. Purchasing foreign munitions will be almost their only option."
Smith answered without hesitation.
Indeed, the United States of the 1860s was far from the "Arsenal of Democracy" it would become during World War II. At this time, not only was the country's overall industrial capacity far from world-leading, but its military industry was also woefully underdeveloped. Even during World War I, when the U.S. had long been the world's leading industrial power, its military industry struggled to match its national strength. The U.S. had to rely on France and Britain to arm its expeditionary forces, leading to some rather embarrassing situations...
Naturally, Friedrich had no way of knowing these details. But just based on what Smith had said so far, he was already too stunned to speak.
"But for us, this is a golden opportunity," Smith continued without pausing.
"The Khitans have a saying: 'When the cannons roar, gold flows by the ton.' Right now is the perfect time to sell arms to the Americans. If we don't make the deal, Britain, France, or even Russia will. So why shouldn't we strike first and profit from it?"
"Willie," Frederick stared at Smith, as though seeing his son for the first time. "Did you come up with all of this yourself?"
This wasn't so much a question as it was a marvel. Think about it—setting aside the fact that the first shots of the American Civil War had barely been fired, even Frederick himself had only just read the news in the paper. Little Willie, barely two years old, rarely left the confines of the Crown Prince's palace and had no access to anyone who might discuss such matters with him. If this wasn't his own idea, then who could have planted it in his mind? Even if someone had taught him to recite it, a two-year-old who could accurately repeat such complex information would surely be considered a genius!
Smith simply shrugged, silently answering the question that didn't need to be asked.
The atmosphere at the dining table grew increasingly peculiar. Smith hadn't said these things on a whim or out of a desire to show off; his words were calculated, the result of careful thought.
As the saying goes, "The tides of history surge forward relentlessly." Progress and development are the trends of the world. Though the path may twist and turn, it ultimately follows the law of upward spirals. A nation that fails to keep pace with these tides is doomed to be left behind. The German Empire of history was such a casualty, swept away by the currents of progress—a fate Smith felt no pity for.
But ever since Smith had transmigrated into the body of "Smiling Willie," his personal destiny had become inextricably tied to that of Prussia, and indeed Germany as a whole. If he couldn't leverage his knowledge and abilities, then in a few decades, he would inevitably find himself reduced to the "traditional craft" of the Hohenzollern family—chopping wood in a Dutch estate.
And if, on top of that, he had to witness a certain mustachioed Austrian corporal plunging the world into chaos again, it would be even worse.
Smith had no intention of accepting such a fate. Since his transmigration, alongside the anxiety of being trapped in an infant's body and the fear of facing an unknown adversary in the Temporal Authority, he had been seriously contemplating the future. Where should he go from here?
After much deliberation, he had reached only one conclusion: he had to start exerting his influence as early as possible. Even as a transmigrator, he couldn't control the fate of an entire nation. But at least he could try. And if he tried, there would be no regrets.
Victoria, on the other hand, was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. Surprise and delight were inevitable. The miraculous scene before her had made it abundantly clear that her son was a genius, destined to leave an extraordinary mark on history.
Yet alongside her joy, she felt a faint sense of unease. Her son, it seemed, was not quite the person she had envisioned.
According to modern psychology, it's common for daughters to develop some form of father-complex at a certain stage in life. For some, it's fleeting; for others, it lasts a lifetime. And if the father is a particularly charismatic and outstanding figure, such feelings are even more natural.
Victoria was no exception, even if she might not have been fully aware of it herself. Ever since she had come to truly accept her son, she had resolved to mold him into a man like his father, Prince Albert—a refined, learned, and admirable gentleman.
But the little boy sitting before her now… why did he exude the aura of a Venetian merchant?
Frederick, meanwhile, was oblivious to Victoria's concerns. Shackled by his complicated relationship with his own father, King Wilhelm, he had yet to decide what kind of man he wanted his son to become or how to interact with him. For now, he was simply overwhelmed by the realization that his son, at such a tender age, possessed such remarkable insight.
What this shock would eventually lead to, even Frederick himself didn't know.
One thing was certain, though: his son was a bona fide genius.
"The wise often speak late," Frederick suddenly recalled a phrase spoken by a Khitan envoy, Hu Linyi. And in the next instant, a new thought struck him—concern for Smith.
Because Frederick understood that geniuses are fragile, prone to breaking under pressure. He had to protect his child. It was at this moment that he truly realized he was a father—a very different kind of father than the one who had caused him so much turmoil.
With this in mind, Frederick turned to Smith and asked, "Willie, is there more you'd like to say?"