Chapter 54: A Quiet Departure

At the gates of the palace, a guard asked them to wait while he went to announce their arrival. After all, Johann was only a major — and his position had been secured thanks to the previous king, not the current one. If the new monarch hadn’t feared appearing ungrateful to his predecessor, Johann would likely have been dismissed — or even executed — long ago.

“So what exactly are you going to do about us?” asked the attendant.

“That depends on each of you,” Johann replied calmly. “I’ll take those who wish to follow me to the New World and leave behind those who prefer to stay. Of course, I’ll also ensure that His Majesty Frederick protects you all in exchange for my departure.”

The attendant sighed. “Honestly, I’d prefer if you stayed. But I understand — in your last years, it’s only natural to want to be close to your family. All I can say is thank you, for everything you’ve taught us.”

Johann smiled faintly. “And thank you, for enduring this old man’s antics for so long. I’ll try to recommend you, though I doubt it will have much influence.”

The attendant smiled, a little sadly. “Don’t worry, sir. You’ve already done more than enough for us. Without you, our army wouldn’t have lasted so long after the budget was cut.”

Johann nodded in quiet satisfaction. They waited for two long hours. The attendant’s expression darkened. “He’s doing it on purpose.”

“It’s understandable,” Johann said, watching the guards pacing under the afternoon sun. “The new king wants to win over the Junkers, so he must show a different attitude toward a plebeian like me. It’s not the first time this has happened, but it will probably be the last.” He looked toward the magnificent palace, the gold trim glinting in the light, and sighed.

While he reminisced, a soldier appeared — clearly uncomfortable, though not rude. “Major, His Majesty can see you now. Please follow me to his office.”

Johann nodded and followed him inside. The palace smelled faintly of polished wood and incense; portraits of grim-faced kings lined the walls. Suddenly, the office door opened, and Johann Christoph von Wöllner stepped out. He looked Johann up and down with disdain.

“Now any poor villager can walk into the palace? What an insult to our country,” he sneered, striding past.

The attendant clenched his fists, ready to strike, but Johann stopped him. “Don’t dirty your hands with useless men who only know how to flatter the king while doing nothing,” Johann said — loudly enough for Wöllner to hear.

“What did you say, old man?” Christopher spun around, furious.

“Are you deaf as well as stupid? Maybe you should spend less time with courtesans and more with your duties,” Johann retorted coldly.

“You—!” Christopher began, but a deep, commanding voice interrupted them.

“Enough. This is the palace, not a marketplace,” came the voice of Frederick William II.

Both men lowered their heads. “Forgive us, Your Majesty,” they said almost in unison.

“Major Johann, come in,” said the king.

He went inside, leaving the attendant by the door. The office gleamed with gold and marble, the air heavy with perfume and candle smoke. A tiger-skin carpet sprawled across the floor, and two beautiful women lounged on a velvet sofa beside the king — mistresses, perhaps, or the wives of some noblemen. Johann shook his head slightly, a gesture of quiet disapproval.

Frederick ignored the look. “What do you want, my dear major? If you’ve come to complain about the budget cuts, I’ll tell you now — I can do nothing. The empire’s finances are stretched thin.”

Johann met his gaze. “Your Majesty, I’ve come to make an exchange — something both you and the Junkers have long desired. But I don’t think it’s appropriate to discuss it in such company.” He nodded toward the women.

Frederick understood at once. “Leave us,” he said. “I need to speak with my major.”

The women rose, giggling softly, their perfume lingering in the air.

The king poured himself a glass of Bordeaux. “Wine?”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but I must respectfully decline,” Johann said solemnly.

Frederick shrugged and took a sip. “Very well. Then tell me — why have you come?”

“Your Majesty, I wish to request early retirement — and permission to leave Germany altogether.”

Frederick raised his eyebrows, startled. For years, he had tried to remove this stubborn old officer, whose influence and independence had frustrated every political maneuver. Now, suddenly, Johann was asking to leave of his own accord.

After a pause, Frederick leaned forward. “I see. But you must understand, I cannot simply grant you anything you ask.”

Johann smiled. “No worry, my requests are simple. First — I recently discovered that I have a grandson alive, living in New Granada. He wishes to study at the University of Hanover, and I’d like to secure him a position in Göttingen so he can begin next year.”

Frederick blinked, surprised. “That’s easily arranged. Consider it done.”

“Good. The second matter concerns my soldiers. I only ask that Your Majesty does not persecute them — and if they must be reassigned, that it be done fairly.”

“That’s also easy enough. Are you sure that’s all? No title, no money?” the king asked, frowning slightly.

“I plan to go to America with my grandson once he finishes university,” Johann replied. “A title would be useless there. And as for money — I made a small fortune serving His Majesty Frederick II. I need no more.”

Frederick was silent for a moment, then said thoughtfully, “America is a savage land, isn’t it? Still, I’ll allow you to take some of your men with you — if you can convince them. Consider it a long-term investment in the new continent.”

Johann exhaled in relief. “Then I thank Your Majesty sincerely. I’ll begin preparations for the army’s reorganization, and afterward, I’ll depart for Hanover to join my grandson and the men who choose to come with me.”

“Wait,” Frederick said suddenly. He took up a pen and a sheet of parchment, wrote a letter addressed to Göttingen, then sealed it with wax. “Here. This should guarantee your grandson’s acceptance. And just in case, I’ll send another letter directly to the principal.”

“I thank Your Majesty once more,” Johann said, bowing.

Frederick’s expression softened. “Thank you for assisting my uncle in his endeavors, Johann. I hope you enjoy the rest of your life.”

“I wish the same for you, Your Majesty. Also — my attendant, Gerhard Scharnhorst, is loyal and capable. If ever you need a man of vision, I leave you my recommendation.” Johann placed a folded note on the desk.

Frederick remained alone after Johann left, staring at the note. One of the army’s last independent voices — and one of the few men who could balance the Junkers — was gone. Dangerous. He looked again at the name written there and murmured, “Perhaps you can help me, boy. Let’s hope old Johann wasn’t lying about your talent.” He dipped his quill in ink and began to write.

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