Election (2): Erich Ludendorff
In the middle of the park, with everyone silently staring at me, I blinked a few times. Even after opening my mouth, no easy answer came. It was an unpredictable moment, and I believed no response could satisfy them all. But I had to answer the young man glaring at me with his one remaining eye. With that single thought, I spoke.
"…The Great War was a great wound to us all."
Though I hadn't answered immediately, everyone was focused on my words for the moment.
"We lost so many brothers, so many families, parents, children—and my arm and leg, even lives. We came home only after losing so much, only to face a world where we'd gained nothing."
I couldn't quite meet the young man's eyes. But I didn't stop speaking.
"What did we gain from this war? No— what was it even for from the start?"
I posed the question and immediately answered it myself.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We gained nothing, and we fought for nothing."
The crowd's expressions varied. Some looked uncomfortable as they watched me, a few nodded in agreement, listening intently, and others stared at the ground with subtle looks of reminiscence.
That was when it happened.
"Your father! Wasn't it your father who led the war? How can you, of all people, join the SPD? How can you even say such things!"
A bearded man in a bowler hat shouted at me. I nodded at his words. Then I looked back at the eyepatched young man.
"Responsibility… you're asking me to take responsibility?"
I slowly approached the young man.
"My father bears clear responsibility. He decided to enter the war and invaded Belgium."
As I spoke, I glanced at the young man's missing eye and my own limping leg.
"Anyone who's seen the corpses rotting along the Somme, the earless soldiers of Verdun, or walked through the shellfire in Galicia! At the very least… they'd hold the Kaiser accountable."
Seeing the eyepatched young man listening intently, I asked him,
"So, what responsibility can you hold me, his son, to?"
The young man couldn't respond; his mouth slowly gaped open, his eyes glazing over. As he started to shake his head,
"No. You can hold me accountable. All of you, and me too. We took part in the war. We consented to it."
Then I turned back to the man.
"My politics is a struggle for that. A struggle to set everything right."
With that, I widened my gaze, surveying the surroundings, and continued.
"We all must choose. Choose—and carry our thoughts and will forward through that choice."
Clap! Clap! As I clapped, drawing all eyes to me, I pressed on.
"At least those of you who've endured the Great War!"
I continued to the still-listening crowd.
"The world won't pay much attention to what we say here today, nor remember it long!"
I slowly scanned the faces of the attentive listeners. Some nodded, others stared at me with stern expressions. Without pause, I continued seamlessly.
"But someday, our mistakes will be covered—by us, or by our descendants' hands!"
I waved my arms for emphasis, raising my voice as loud as possible so all could hear.
"Today's tyranny and oppression end here! Only freedom, equality, and the right choices will remain! That's… that's what I truly promise you!"
I raised my hand high, my final cry echoing through the park. In the hush, the audience held their breath. Moments later, one person, then two, began to clap. There were no cheers, no jeers—nothing. Just solemn faces, displeased ones, varied expressions, all applauding.
"Your Highness, I have a question!"
As the applause died, a girl confidently raised her hand and called out. Beside her, a middle-aged man followed suit.
"This time, I want to ask!"
"Hey! Wait your turn!"
As they raised hands one by one, the built-up tension dissolved in laughter. I raised both hands to calm them.
"I'll hear as many as I can. Calm down."
The unimaginable "Agora Campaign" proved far more successful than expected.
Public Debate! – The Red Prince Colors Königsberg!
Thud! A party letter of reprimand was placed atop the article emblazoned with "Red Prince". It chided and blamed him for holding an "Agora"-style debate without even a single bodyguard. Given the recent surge in political violence, it was a point the party could naturally raise.
"Karl, are you uncomfortable anywhere?"
"All goood!"
Fortunately, Karl Franz wasn't struggling much with life in Königsberg. But beyond the city, the landscape changed completely: rundown fields, rural areas gripped by Junker nobles. They were nominally "hired laborers," but no different from tenant farmers. Königsberg, however, was the exception. True to its moniker "Kant's city," debates flowed in every square and café—a strangely vibrant place.
"Your Highness, a letter has arrived."
"A letter?"
I took the letter from the nanny and was startled by the name on the back.
Glory to the Honorable German Empire!
Your Highness, as a faithful soldier of the Empire, I have no doubt in your judgment or sense of responsibility. However, your recent actions have greatly disappointed some of us patriots. If possible, I wish to meet you in person to discuss this matter. My intent is merely to question your judgment and offer counsel and advice. If your schedule permits, please reply.
The utterly unexpected name left me flustered, yet a laugh escaped me anyway.
"…Ludendorff?"
For a moment, my hand froze. This name was seeking me out now? Chuckling wryly, I hastily tore open the letter.
The letter itself was polite and courteous, befitting one to a prince. But its message was simple: Explain yourself in person. Convincingly enough for them. I smirked. After such radical moves, the military was surely starting to lose trust in me. It was time to offer them a carrot.
"Nanny, I'm going to Bavaria for a bit."
"Bavaria?"
"Yes, someone to meet."
With Lettow-Vorbeck and Kapp in exile, the military's remaining focal point had naturally gravitated to Hindenburg and Ludendorff. And with Hindenburg scaling back for the presidential election, Ludendorff was the de facto center. I would head to him now as a Trojan horse. Gazing into the mirror, I began my preparations.
"The last time I saw Your Highness was at the Potsdam estate, I believe. But…."
Ludendorff scanned me up and down before continuing.
"You've changed a great deal."
I strode confidently to the seat opposite him and sat.
"A lot has happened."
At my curt reply, Ludendorff snorted.
"Indeed."
He lightly interlaced his fingers.
"For a time, I thought we were trapped in a long nightmare."
A brief silence.
"At the heart of that nightmare, Your Highness supported the March events. And just months later, you joined the Social Democrats."
"Correct. Is that the problem?"
"Whether it is or isn't depends on what Your Highness explains to me."
Leaning forward without reclining, he continued. A fact I'd only recently learned: During the Kapp Putsch in March, Joachim had supported it, seeing it as his sole hope. Before that, he'd gambled away his fortune in Switzerland, addicted, dreaming only of restoration. When the putsch failed and his wife had long fled, he couldn't have stayed sane. Now I understood why the nanny was so shocked when he smiled at Karl Franz.
"We pillars of the Empire are perplexed. Your Highness—no, that judgment. Whose idea is it?"
Ludendorff clasped his hands and cut to the chase.
"…I see."
I murmured briefly, then lifted my head. No backing down here. I'd already decided my answer.
"Mine."
"Hard to believe."
I smirked at his words and continued.
"What if it's the choice to save the military?"
His gaze deepened further. Even the hint of amusement was gone.