"Miloc has been summoned this time because we need your spies to closely monitor the high-ranking military officials to determine if there are any misconducts," the aging king instructed the head of the spies. "Watch them closely, Miloc. I want to know their every move," he added, waving his hand dismissively. Miloc, an unassuming figure, nodded silently and departed as quietly as he had arrived.
"Edel, I hope you will not disappoint me this time," King Carol I said to the crown prince. "Father, I will not let you down," Edel replied, fully aware of the gravity of his father's support. If he were to fail, his chances of ascending to the throne would be significantly diminished. This realization added a considerable weight of pressure on Edel's shoulders.
As the investigative team delved deeper, the complexities facing the crown prince began to mount. The implicated parties grew increasingly restless and started to conspire among themselves. Earl Ferralenscu handed a letter to his servant, instructing, "Give this letter to General Protec." "As you wish, Lord Earl," the servant replied, taking the letter and departing swiftly. Alone, Ferralenscu massaged his temples, frustrated by the crown prince's relentless scrutiny. "If only the prince hadn't pressed so hard, none would need to cross the future king," he thought. The military's meager salaries hardly allowed for a decent living, and Ferralenscu had hoped to arrange a few scapegoats to appease the prince and secure his own peaceful retirement. But the crown prince's persistent pursuit forced the military leaders to remind this young royal that the army had its own longstanding rules. The thought of King Carol I backing his son made Ferralenscu resent the old king for his indirect involvement.
"My lord, we have discovered that Earl Ferralenscu's servants are frequently leaving the estate," a spy reported to Miloc, who was seated at his desk. "And where do they go?" Miloc inquired, his gaze fixed on the spy. "They've been seen visiting General Plotke, Viscount Millesl, and General Lauren Creed, among others, who have also been quite active lately," the spy answered earnestly. "It appears these senior officers are planning some sort of gathering," Miloc commented dryly, a joke he thought amusing, though the attending spies dared not react. "Increase surveillance on them. I want a detailed report on their conversations and the meeting locations. There can be no errors. Do you understand?" Miloc demanded, his stern gaze intimidating the spy who quickly saluted and replied, "Understood, sir."
Miloc later relayed his findings to King Carol I. "The army is like a garden overgrown with weeds after being neglected for too long," he reported. "What are your thoughts on this, Miloc?" the king asked. "Your Majesty, I am here to follow your commands. This issue should be addressed by someone else," Miloc responded, aware of his role as merely the king's observer, where personal opinions could prove perilous. "You tedious fellow," the king muttered, then instructed, "Continue monitoring them and report any abnormalities."
King Carol I had a profound affinity for the military, rooted in his heritage from the Hohenzollern family, making him particularly sensitive to military control. Meanwhile, Edel found himself increasingly beleaguered by the growing military complications. In his past life as an ordinary person, his biggest concerns had been mundane, his interactions limited to conversations with a computer. Now, tasked with significant responsibilities, he lamented the ease with which fictional heroes on the internet seemed to achieve great feats, while he struggled with his first major challenge.
"Your Highness, seeing you so burdened daily, we wish we could offer more help. Perhaps you should take a break," suggested Emina and Kariluna, two maids who noticed the crown prince's distress. Edel, feeling a spark of warmth at their concern amidst his hectic schedule, smiled and agreed, "Yes, let's rest." The maids blushed, understanding the prince's appreciation.
The following morning, Edel reminisced about the comforting company of the two women the previous night, appreciating their empathetic support during stressful times. As he stepped out, he was approached by Captain Carust. "Any news from Carust?" Edel inquired. "Your Highness, the King has sent you a document," the captain replied, handing over the papers.
Edel scanned the document, which detailed the collusion among high-ranking officers, including Earl Ferralenscu. It seemed King Carol I was entrusting this matter to Edel, testing his capabilities and aiming to purge the army of disloyal elements. This was also an opportunity to reaffirm the royal family's authority and quell any unrest.
"Did His Majesty provide any specific instructions?" Edel asked. "He only said that you should review this and you would understand," Carust responded. After pondering for a moment, Edel instructed, "Send a telegram to the inspection team to accelerate their efforts. Use whatever means necessary to expose the major players behind this."
With the directive issued, the inspection teams intensified their efforts across Bucharest, leading to an increase in confrontational encounters. At the headquarters of the Seventh Division, the team confronted Colonel Slob, the logistics officer, who was accused by his subordinates of issuing questionable orders. "They are slandering me; I never instructed them to do such things," Colonel Slob protested. However, when presented with an account book bearing his signature, he defensively claimed, "That's forged. Anyone could obtain my signature." Unconvinced and determined to extract the truth, the team leader ordered, "Keep questioning him in shifts. Don't let him rest until he talks. We'll see how resilient he is."
The team leader, focused on uncovering the full extent of the conspiracy, explained to his puzzled team, "It's not enough to simply convict him; we need to know who's behind him." The operation to cleanse the military of corruption and restore order under the crown prince's command was now in full swing.
In the southeastern suburbs of Bucharest, nestled near the quaint village of Marvello, stood a small villa that had long piqued the curiosity of local residents. It was said to have been constructed by a merchant named Carut who used it as a vacation home. A solitary servant maintained the property, seldom engaging with anyone in the village, which only added to the air of mystery surrounding the place. Recently, however, the villa had seen an unusual flurry of activity. The merchant had arrived, and there was a constant stream of visitors. Tonight, the villa was ablaze with lights and bustling with activity; rumors of a grand banquet had spread throughout the village.
In the shadowy embrace of the woods adjacent to the villa, two figures clad in black observed the scene through binoculars. They meticulously noted each guest arriving for the banquet.
"That's Viscount Millersl, General Lauren Cree, and General Billslow. They are all significant figures in the military. Including those already inside, there are seven high-ranking army officers. Go and report this to the head; I'll continue to monitor them," whispered the spy with the telescope to his colleague.
Inside the villa, in a secret room, the atmosphere was charged with tension. Seven high-ranking army officers, including the Earl of Lawrencecu, Viscount Millersl, General Lauren Cree, and General Billslow, were gathered. The meeting had been convened by Fellarencecu, who had hoped for a larger turnout. However, fear of the old king's wrath had kept others away, though they had not betrayed the gathering to the king. They were all waiting to see how events would unfold.
"This group of cowards! Don't they realize the danger until the king holds a knife to their throats?" General Lauren Cree broke the uneasy silence. As the commander of the Seventh Division, he faced the most severe predicament and had been the most eager in accepting Fellarencecu's invitation. "We must act to ensure our survival."
"Lawrence, calm down. At least those who stayed away haven't alerted the old king. That in itself is a significant advantage for us. We have considerable room to maneuver," Viscount Millersl responded, trying to analyze the situation. As the chief officer in charge of military supplies, he too was deeply implicated in the crisis.
Fellarencecu, sensing the moment was right, addressed the group with fervor, "I have no desire to oppose the king. I have served him loyally, fought and bled in the War of Independence. But now, he discards us—the very men who have supported his reign—for the sake of the crown prince. This is utterly unacceptable. It would have been one thing for him to ask us to step down quietly, but to tarnish our reputations? How are we to live on the meager pensions provided, when every high-ranking official is assumed corrupt? The king's order for the crown prince to investigate corruption is a direct attack on us. I cannot accept this. We must seek justice."
The room fell silent as the officers absorbed Fellarencecu's impassioned speech. Seeing their hesitation, Lauren Cree stood up, his resolve hardening. "Earl Fellarencecu is right. We, too, have dedicated our lives to this kingdom only to be disgracefully dismissed. We cannot—and will not—accept this insult."
"Yes, we must demonstrate our strength and remind the king that the military has its own honor and rules," agreed Millersl, standing to lend his support.
The other officers, stirred by their leaders' conviction, nodded and murmured their agreement. "Indeed, the king must respect us, the veterans," they echoed.
Fellarencecu, pleased with the rising morale, gestured for calm. "Let us not seek open rebellion. If the king ceases this farce, we can manipulate the situation subtly. We'll make a few sacrifices, allowing the crown prince to appear successful, and then we can all retire peacefully without further ado."
Encouraged by this strategy, a senior officer asked, "What should be our course of action?"
Fellarencecu outlined his plan. "We need to escalate the situation slightly. A few of the officers detained by the crown prince should be eliminated. Rumors will spread that the prince intends to purge all officers not loyal to him. This will incite the military to stand with us against the crown prince, forcing the king to negotiate."
"And what of the guards? Blongat is fiercely loyal to the king. If he intervenes, our plan might fail," another officer interjected.
"Do not worry about Blongat. He will be... indisposed when the time comes," Fellarencecu assured them with a sly smile.
Satisfied with the detailed plan, the officers left the meeting. Fellarencecu, Viscount Millersl, and General Lauren Cree lingered to discuss further details. "Once the old king concedes to our demands, we'll control the military's reorganization. I'll assume the role of Secretary of the Army, Lauren can be the Deputy Minister, and Viscount Millersl the Chief of General Staff. With the military in our hands, the king will have no choice but to appease us," Fellarencecu plotted.
After finalizing their strategy, the two other officers departed, leaving Fellarencecu alone by the window, gazing out into the night, seemingly waiting for someone else.
Soon, the butler escorted a mysterious figure into the room—a man in dark clothes and a hat. "The person you were expecting, Count," announced the butler before exiting and closing the door.
The visitor removed his hat, revealing a shrewd middle-aged face. "Illvyklev, at your service, Count. We have received your letter through Ambassador Leerlov. Russia fully supports your request for assistance," he stated formally.
"Excellent. And how prepared is your military? I understand you are still engaged in a conflict," Fellarencecu inquired, getting straight to the point.
"Rest assured, Count. His Majesty has redirected a division from the Guards and a cavalry division of Cossacks. Along with four other divisions stationed at the border, six divisions stand ready. Once you incite discord within the Romanian military, paralyzing them, we can swiftly advance to Bucharest and strike decisively. Austria-Hungary and Germany will likely hold back, as France is our ally and Britain will tacitly support the move. With you as king, any treaties we sign will be legitimate. We only require minimal funding for our military expenses," explained Illvyklev, laying out the strategic support and expectations.
"You have indeed been thorough, Mr. Envoy," Fellarencecu remarked, visibly pleased.
"Count, please, stay a moment longer," Illvyklev requested as he prepared to leave.
After watching the envoy depart, Fellarencecu returned to his contemplations. The geopolitical landscape was shifting, and the dissatisfaction within the Romanian military, coupled with his connections, provided a prime opportunity for foreign powers like Britain, France, and Russia to influence the region's alignment, particularly against Germany. This was a crucial moment, and Fellarencecu was at the heart of it, poised to reshape the destiny of his nation.