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A special thanks to daoist_Rimon, DipsyandPo, 1_ORI_1, RepoGames, and Powshak for their power stones. It encourages me to continue this work and see where it will take us. Thanks also to all of you who have already added this project to your collection. You have no idea how happy I am to see it growing day by day!

Enjoy this new chapter!

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Adam left the duke, his head filled with thoughts, and returned to his friends, who were eagerly waiting for him. They all had their own ideas and suspected it must be related to his role in capturing Frederick II of Prussia.

Their excitement had caught the attention of many soldiers in the company. It was almost a wave of soldiers that surged forward and rushed towards him as Adam finally returned.

"What did the colonel want?!"

They were all speaking at once, but that was the gist of the question.

"I've been promoted to the rank of corporal!"

"Wow! That's incredible! Congratulations!"

"Thank you!" Adam replied with a huge smile he couldn't contain.

"I'm so jealous!" Jean groaned, tears welling up in his eyes. "We enlisted at the same time, and you're the only one getting promoted!"

Charles placed a comforting hand on the big guy's shoulder and said in a reassuring voice, "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be promoted one day! After all, the war isn't over yet!"

Jean lifted his head with hope and looked at his friend.

"You really think so? I can still make a name for myself?"

"Of course! The enemy is retreating, but I bet they'll keep fighting for a few more months. After all, several of their officers managed to escape with a good number of their soldiers."

"T-that's true! You're right! Thanks, Charles! I'm going to try harder, and I'll become an officer!"

Charles didn't have the heart to tell him what he knew about how to become an officer, not wanting to crush his friend's dreams. While merit and seniority could help you rise through the ranks faster, there was a sort of glass ceiling that was very hard to break through. The nobility of the kingdom, like in any other, held on tightly to its privileges. Among those privileges was holding the most prestigious civil and military positions. That's why sixteen- or seventeen-year-olds found themselves in important command positions on land and sea, while highly qualified and experienced people were stuck at a certain level.

While there were exceptions, they remained just that: exceptions.

"But we already have three corporals in our company. Are there going to be more promotions?" one of the soldiers asked with a mix of curiosity and hope.

"I… Yes, I think so, but it's because I'm being sent to another company to take the place of a corporal who was killed in the last battle."

"Oh."

The looks on his friends' faces changed instantly. Adam's heart tightened at the sight.

"Don't worry, guys. It's not like I'm changing regiments or armies."

"Yeah, haha, sorry, François. We were just caught off guard. So, which company are you moving to?"

"Um, the colonel mentioned the fourth company in the second battalion of our regiment. It's commanded by a man named Gilbert, I think?"

"Captain Gilbert?" Corporal Costier said in surprise. "Good luck with that."

"You know him, Corporal?" Adam asked with anticipation and fear. "Why 'good luck'?"

"Well, he's got quite a reputation in the second regiment. Let's just say he's very strict. With him, there's only one way to do things, and that's his way because it's the right way. When it doesn't work, it's because his order was poorly executed. But he's competent and experienced. He fought throughout the previous war under the Marquis de Vassé and then under the Marquis d'Antin. You'll learn a lot under his command."

"I-I see."

I'm already stressing out! I hope I can measure up! Ah, if I mess up, can they take away my rank and send me back as a regular soldier?!

 ***

On November 9th, the news of the complete defeat of the Prussian army at Rossbach and the capture of Frederick II, his officers, a large number of soldiers, and many cannons hit Berlin like a hurricane. A king had been captured, along with a prince of the blood, since his younger brother, Henry of Prussia, had been with him in this battle.

Fortunately, the capital and the kingdom were not left to their fate, as there were two princes, ministers, and an army of advisors in the city.

The remaining two princes were Augustus-William, thirty-five years old and disgraced for his humiliating defeat at Kolin on June 18th of that year against the formidable Austrians, and Augustus Ferdinand, twenty-five years old.

The former had virtually vanished, while the latter was doing his best to manage the kingdom on behalf of his brother. Everyone agreed that he was putting in a great deal of effort and that, when God called the brave Frederick II to Him, this prince would make an excellent king.

It didn't take long for the news of the Rossbach disaster to spread throughout the city and cause panic. After all, Berlin was not very far from Leipzig. Without an army to prevent them from advancing, it would take them less than ten days to lay siege to the capital. So, it was not surprising to see preparations being made for departure, even though the enemy was said to still be near Leipzig.

In response to this crisis, an extraordinary assembly was declared at Berliner Schloss, the Berlin palace.

More than just a royal residence, it was a huge symbol of the power of the royal family, the Hohenzollerns, and a tool of prestige. This complex of buildings, constructed with the help of the finest craftsmen and architects, indeed commanded a certain respect. It embodied what the Prussians valued: order, grandeur, beauty in simplicity and elegance, and modernity.

One of its facades, like the British Parliament in London, faced directly onto the Spree River.

As the most illustrious figures had sequestered themselves in one of the rooms of this palace, strong and rapid footsteps echoed on the polished floor of a corridor. As he passed, servants stepped aside and guards straightened up. But once he had gone by, everyone watched his back and murmured a few cruel words.

Not wanting to pay attention to these insignificant matters, he continued his way, navigating unhesitatingly through the floors. Just as he ignored the murmurs, he didn't glance at the multitude of paintings, gilding, and moldings that adorned the palace's beauty. It was as if the corridors were empty to him and the walls were bare.

Finally, he arrived at a large double door, white and gold, decorated with his family's emblem.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the doors and entered a very spacious room bathed in a cold light coming from all the imposing windows offering a spectacular view of the Spree. There were already a hundred people inside, but none spoke. In this silence, Prince Augustus-William could clearly hear a few words directed at him.

"Who allowed him to come here?"

"Does he have no shame showing his face here?"

"Why now? Isn't it a bit... Wouldn't he be aiming for his brother's throne?"

"Hmm, even though he is disgraced after the retreat from Kollin and the total destruction of Zittau, he remains the king's brother. He must be here at the invitation of His Highness Augustus Ferdinand."

Prince William seemed to have aged several years in a few months. These months had been particularly grueling for him, especially due to the statements made by his brother the king after the events at Kolin.

At that time, the army commanded by his brother, Frederick II, was besieging Prague with a significant force, but not enough to take the great city while defending against an Austrian army sent to relieve it. They had attempted to eliminate this second force to then concentrate on Prague, but the battle did not go well from the start.

They failed to outflank their enemy because they had tried to move too quickly. After five hours of fighting, they were forced to retreat and abandon Prague. Without the help of the brave von Seydltitz, their losses would have been even greater. His cavalry had performed a small miracle by paying the price of blood, just to allow the remnants of their army to fall back.

Out of the nearly thirty thousand men they had, almost fourteen thousand were lost, dead or wounded.

Naturally, the Austrians had been reinforced by the troops in Prague and had pursued them. It was at Zittau that Prince Augustus-William had had to face them. Faced with so many enemies with high morale, he had no choice but to flee for his life.

This had led to the loss of Bohemia, a vast and wealthy territory on the border of the Holy Roman Empire shared with the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.

I know I made mistakes, but isn't this a bit harsh? Am I really the only one responsible?

The prince tried to ignore the looks from these people just as he had with the paintings, but it was very difficult. There was so much disdain, outrage, and even anger!

Now, he thought as he crossed the richly decorated room, I am barely recognized as a member of the royal family. If it weren't for my brother, I would have remained outside the political stage.

His younger brother, Augustus-Ferdinand, was standing at the far end of the room, seated at one end of a long table, at which only a handful of individuals were allowed to sit.

When Augustus-Ferdinand saw Guillaume's face in the crowd, he simply nodded and invited him to join him. He seemed neither delighted nor angry, perhaps due to the catastrophic situation in which the kingdom found itself.

Before speaking, he uttered only a few words of thanks to Guillaume for coming. He understood how difficult his position was at this moment.

"Gentlemen," began the prince, "your attention, please."

Immediately, the last murmurs ceased and all eyes turned to the young man with such distinguished bearing. He was a handsome man, with delicate features that one might mistake for a woman's. His lips were small and the bridge of his nose narrow. His beautiful blue eyes seemed as calm as the surface of a lake.

"The situation is dire," he said in an unusually grave and solemn voice, like a priest, "and we must make a decision quickly to avoid the worst. But I fear, whatever we decide today, that there may be nothing to prevent our defeat. We must therefore decide how we wish to end it. You all know that my brother, the king, has been captured, as well as His Highness Henry."

The Prussian nobility nodded gravely, their faces stern.

"My brother, whom I have called upon today, has been disgraced following our failure before Prague, and I find myself today obliged to represent the Prussian Crown. Nevertheless, I refuse to represent Prussia without consulting you, members of Parliament."

The nobles present in the room looked from the prince to his brother and their neighbors in turn. Generally, being involved in state decisions was a great honor, but in presenting it this way, they felt the prince was attempting to share in the blame.

"The Austrian army, we have just learned, is advancing towards Berlin from the south. Charles of Lorraine commands for Empress Maria Theresa an army reportedly numbering eighty to ninety thousand men and has taken Breslau. All of Silesia is falling into Austrian hands as we speak."

"And General von Lestwitz? And his army?" an unusually large man, his face glistening with sweat under the chandeliers and daylight, asked, unable to contain himself.

"He was indeed entrusted with the heavy task of defending the place, but unfortunately, he chose to abandon it without a fight to our enemies. He withdrew with his army intact, still numbering four thousand men."

"I-impossible!" stammered the man, suddenly pale as if he had been bled dry.

"Unfortunately, his army no longer exists, as once they left the city, his soldiers massively deserted."

"Lord God! What a disgrace! What a scandal!" several voices cried out in the room, making each voice inaudible.

The prince raised his hand, and gradually the room returned to a semblance of calm.

"Gentlemen, to all those who think we can raise new armies through conscription, here is the result."

Guillaume looked at his younger brother with surprise. Despite the situation, he still held command of the room. Ferdinand, however, seemed not to notice. He resumed speaking calmly, outlining the situation point by point.

"The French, who have formed a significant force by joining with the Imperial troops, will most certainly lay siege to Leipzig, which will certainly not hold out for long given the unequal forces. At best, they may buy us some time, but that is all. Meanwhile, the Russians are attacking us from the east and seem determined to take East Prussia from us. Even though there have been no major confrontations since the end of August, caution is warranted. The Russians are unpredictable. As for the Swedes, it is clear they want their share of the spoils by expanding their kingdom at Brandenburg's expense."

The more the prince spoke, the more the Prussian nobles seemed to sink into a foul swamp, with no hope of escape.

"Your Highness, forgive me, but… what about our British ally? Will they do nothing to help us?"

"We have not yet received a response to our requests, unfortunately. And I fear that we will not be satisfied. According to previous letters from London, Parliament does not intend to send troops to the continent. However, they might release funds to raise troops in Hanover and all regions occupied by the French and their allies to keep them occupied and thus reduce the pressure on our kingdom. They can certainly conduct operations on the French coasts, which will keep many soldiers stationed there."

That's not enough! It's really not enough! We need a solid army to push back our enemies, not just delay them! My brother must know that as well as I do!

The disgraced prince looked at his younger brother, who also did not seem optimistic. This was evident even from a distance. Clearly, the parliamentarians were aware of this.

"What should we do, Your Highness?" asked a man at least twice the prince's age, bowing.

"The ransom amounts for our king and His Highness are not yet known, but they will inevitably be considerable. It is not impossible that France will demand double the ransom of an ordinary general for each of them. We will not be able to raise it, at least not before being devoured by our enemies. We must therefore choose between continuing the fight without His Majesty and our brave officers who accompanied him, relying on poorly trained and poorly equipped soldiers, partly gathered by force, or negotiating a peace treaty."

Prince Guillaume trembled and lowered his eyes, unable to look at the reaction of the nobles.

"What is the position of Parliament?" the prince pressed, sweeping the room with his now sad gaze as if to indicate that he would abide by their decision.

The men present remained silent for a moment, as their fate depended on what would be decided. The silence was so intense that one could hear the flies buzzing. No one seemed willing to speak, at least not first. If they had an opinion, they kept it to themselves for fear of being judged.

It was impossible to tell what others were thinking.

Finally, a young man as handsome as Apollo, even more so than the prince, stepped forward. His colorful clothes embroidered with gold gave him an additional charm, that of a prince charming straight out of a fairy tale to whom no woman could resist. He was slender, stood straight, and moved with a firm step.

One of His Majesty's favorites, I believe. I hope he does not say something foolish!

"Gentlemen," he said in a soft and clear voice like a natural spring lost in the German mountains, "I believe we must act as His Majesty would have wanted. His Majesty has always been kind and compassionate. He has always seen himself as the servant of the State rather than its master," he said, turning to the parliamentarians, seemingly looking at each one of them. "I propose that we follow his example and think of the people's welfare. Our chances of victory are slim, and the longer we delay acknowledging that, the greater the number of brave Prussian soldiers sacrificed will be."

He then turned to Prince Ferdinand, his eyes welling up with tears.

"Thus, I suggest that, without further delay, we begin negotiating a peace treaty with France and its allies."

Voices rose in the room. Some vehemently criticized what had just been said, justifying that they were still waiting for a response from King George II of Great Britain, while others approved with applause.

Ferdinand observed the room's agitation as a mere spectator, watching the expressions on the faces. He turned to his brother, who had not made a sound since the beginning of the assembly. His red eyes betrayed a deep concern for Frederick and Henry. Even though it was known that both would be well treated, each had barely closed an eye at night.

Now that he had the chance, he observed his brother more closely. It was clear that he had lost a lot of weight. This was evident in his cheeks, around his eyes, his wrists, and his clothes in general. He who filled them a few months ago, although he had always been thin, now floated in his jacket and coat.

If only we had won at Prague... Maybe we could have avoided this disastrous situation?

The situation had already been grave during the summer with so many enemies on the borders. However, from his point of view, it was the disaster at Kolin that drove the kingdom into despair. It was because of this defeat that his brother had desperately sought a decisive victory and had refused to leave the battlefield to others.

It's my fault… It's all my fault…