"Your Royal Highness, this time our returns are not substantial, as we have only made a profit of £2.45 million after accounting for various expenses from the four major foreign banks. Per the strong request from the Prime Minister of the Reserve Bank, the profits are to remain within the bank, leaving us with only £980,000." Edel listened as Carust, the chief of the bodyguard, reported the outcomes of the post-war financial dealings. Once Carust finished his briefing, the crown prince yawned, signaling his fatigue.
"Your Highness should perhaps pay more attention to resting and taking care of your health," Carust suggested, a hint of concern in his voice. "Okay, Carust, I will take note," Edel replied nonchalantly, indicating his casual acceptance of the advice, which was the most Carust felt he could press for.
"Is there anything else?" Edel inquired after a brief pause.
"No more, my lord," Carust responded.
Watching Carust exit with his upright posture, Edel reflected on how the disciplined chief of the bodyguard seemed increasingly burdened by his duties these days. Edel understood everyone had their own ways of unwinding and felt justified in his own methods of relaxation, knowing he could afford such luxuries for now.
Meanwhile, in the small town of Brad in Deva County, Transylvania, the local Romanians, who constituted over half the town's population, were facing oppression from the Hungarians. This was exacerbated by the surge of nationalism in the 20th century, leading to continued persecution.
Mizick and his father were toiling away on their rented farmland under the relentless sun, which seemed to sap even the trees of their vitality. Mizick straightened his aching back and wiped the sweat from his brow with a grimy towel. "Father, let's take a break," he suggested to his father, who appeared nearly sixty despite being in his forties.
"Let's head over to the shade and drink some water. The lack of rain this year has made the harvest challenging, and the land rent hasn't decreased either. It's going to be a tough year," his father lamented, his mind still preoccupied with the crop yield.
"Why hasn't Lord Ilzabi lowered the rent for us like he did for the Hungarians and Germans in the neighboring villages?" Mizick questioned, his voice tinged with frustration even as he sipped his water.
"Keep your voice down! If Ilzabi hears us, he'll demand the rent immediately," his father cautioned, glancing nervously around. It was well-known that Ilzabi was a fervent nationalist who showed favoritism towards his own kind and held little regard for the Romanians.
"It's still better now than before. Back then, not only did the Hungarians discriminate against us, but they also imposed double standards on land rent. We always paid more than the Hungarians, and none of the officials were Romanian," his father whispered to Mizick, ensuring they weren't overheard.
"Half of Il Dhabi's land was taken from us back then," his father continued quietly.
"Weren't they exposed at that time?" Mizick asked softly.
"They were, but most were too intimidated by him. A few brave souls who dared to oppose him ended up in jail, bribed by his money. If it weren't for the memorandum movement back then, our situation would be even worse," his father recounted, the memory stirring emotions within him. Romanians from across the country had flooded to Cluj to support the memorandum activists on trial, leading to some concessions from Austria-Hungary, won by the efforts of the Romanian National Party.
"People say Romania is doing well now. The farmers there are wealthier, and nobody discriminates against them. If you become a worker, you could send money back and improve our lives," Mizick said, his eyes filled with longing.
"Who told you that?" his father inquired, curious about the source of this information.
"Brolku from the next village. His cousin went to Romania and works in a factory. He just returned a few days ago and even brought Brolku a new jacket, which he wears every day to show off," Mizick explained, envy evident in his tone. His father sighed silently, wondering when the hardships imposed by Hungary would end.
After finishing their water, Mizick hesitantly voiced a desire that had been growing within him. "Father, I want to visit Romania. I'm tired of living under the oppression of the Hungarians. I want to find a place where my identity isn't discriminated against," he declared, his frustration palpable.
Seeing his son's fervor reminded his father of his own youth, filled with similar discontent. In his time, they had looked to Emperor Franz Joseph of Austro-Hungary for favor. Now, the younger generation was turning to Romania, seeking refuge and support, a testament to the shifting allegiances and growing dissatisfaction with Austro-Hungary.
"You should go, see what Romania has to offer. At the very least, you won't face discrimination there," his father responded, supportive of his son's wishes. Everyone wants their children to have a better life than their own.
Mizick, encouraged by his father's approval, smiled, hopeful about his future prospects.
"You should visit Brolku's cousin in the next village and see if he can take you with him. Remember to bring something with you; don't go asking for favors empty-handed," his father advised.
"Alright, father, I'll fetch some cheese from the house and then head over," Mizick said before hurrying home to gather his belongings and find Brolku in the neighboring village. Watching his eager son, the father smiled and returned to his labor, though the work seemed never-ending.
Mizick encountered Brolku on the road before reaching his house. Brolku, still sporting the new jacket despite the heat, greeted Mizick warmly. "What brings you here, Mizick? And carrying something, too," he noted.
"You look great in that jacket," Mizick complimented, patting Brolku on the shoulder.
"I need a favor, Brolk," Mizick began.
"What is it?" Brolku asked, curiosity piqued.
"Can your cousin take me back with him this time? I'd like to find work in Romania," Mizick explained his intentions.
"I'll have to ask my cousin about that. There are already several people hoping to go with him to work in Romania," Brolku replied, uncertain.
"Let's go to your cousin's house and ask him directly," Mizick suggested, eager to set his plans in motion.
The two made their way to Bougaville's house, and before they could even knock, Brolku called out, "Cousin, we're here to see you!"
Bougaville, hearing the shout, came out of the room with a slight frown. "Every time you visit, do you have to let the whole village know?" he chided Brolku lightly.
"I've brought Mizick from the next village. He's a good friend of mine, and he's interested in going to Romania to find work," Brolku explained, introducing Mizick's request.
"I know that your friend said that. Others just took him over."
"Thank you, Cousin Bougainville, I'm very satisfied with this help," Mizick interjected, stopping Brolku who wanted to continue speaking. "We'll leave in two days. Go back and prepare."
After the two exited, Brolku explained to Mizick, "My cousin is actually a nice person, but he doesn't express himself well. His people know that, Mizick, so don't be angry."
"Don't worry, Brolku, don't you know me? I am more grateful to your cousin than anything. How could I be angry with him?" Mizick patted Brolku on the shoulder and continued, "I will buy you a gift when I get the money back."
"Really?" Brolku's eyes lit up at the mention of a gift. "Really," Mizick affirmed, patting his chest. "When have I ever lied to you?"
Hearing Mizick's confirmation, Brolku quickly stated his desired gift, "I want a pair of leather shoes. The last time I saw the mayor's son, he was wearing a shiny pair of leather shoes, and several girls were watching him secretly. So I decided I must have my own pair of leather shoes."
Mizick chuckled and promised, "Okay, no problem. I will bring you a pair of shiny leather shoes when I earn the money."
After dinner, Mizick relayed the day's outcomes to his father. "Father, Brolku's cousin agreed to take me there, and we will leave in two days."
"So soon?" his father inquired after hearing Mizick's words. Mizick nodded affirmatively. The old man sat at the doorstep, gazing at the stars in the night sky, then spoke, "Mizick, I will ask your mother to prepare your luggage."
The old father reached into his purse, pulled out a smaller purse, stood up, and placed it in Mizick's hand. "These are your travel expenses and funds."
"Your grandfather prepared me in the same way, and now I'm preparing you. Time flies so fast; I am old," the father sighed. Mizick's memories of his grandfather were vague, only recalling running around as a child with his grandfather muttering behind him, "Little grandson, run slowly."
Two days later, Mizick arrived in town and found that Bougainville and his party had already arrived. Bougainville called out, "You're slow, Mizick!"
Mizick, panting, ran to the front. "I'm sorry, I had a lot to prepare." Bougainville glanced at Mizick's heavily laden backpack and one of the men exaggeratedly asked, "Are you planning to move?" This caused everyone to laugh, and Mizick felt his ears turn red.
Bougainville then announced to the group, "Everyone is here, we're ready to go."
They boarded a carriage to Deva, where they would change trains to Constanta. The group quickly boarded the train and crossed the Carpathian Mountains into Romania. On the train, Mizick stared out at the Romanian landscape, lost in thought.
"You're a little homesick, right?" Bougainville inquired.
"Yes, I haven't been this far from home before," Mizick replied, snapping back to reality.
Bougainville comforted him, "The first time I went out, I felt the same as you, but you'll get used to it."
Mizick nodded and continued to gaze out the window.
Upon reaching Constanta, Bougainville instructed, "Take your luggage and follow me." After disembarking, they proceeded to a passenger car, a sight unfamiliar to Mizick.
Bougainville, seeing the puzzled faces, explained, "This is a passenger car that Volkswagen released last month. It's designed specifically for transporting people. When I make enough money, I plan to buy one to transport passengers in Deva. It's much faster than a carriage and saves on feed."
"That Volkswagen company must be very wealthy," Mizick remarked.
"It's a royal industry; of course, they make money. They've sold cars all over Europe. Many people are eager to buy these passenger cars," Bougainville shared, continuing the conversation.
They drove to Bougainville's residence to drop off their luggage and then began searching for work.
At the Volkswagen factory, they saw a crowd gathered. Upon inquiry, they learned the factory needed workers due to high sales of buses. Mizick joined the queue, feeling a bit anxious about whether he would be hired, given that it was known as the best-paying factory in Constanta.
When it was his turn, the recruiter asked, "Name."
"Mizk."
"Age."
"22 years old."
"Family address."
"Vomier Village, Brad Town, Deva County, Transylvania."
Upon hearing Mizick's answers, the recruiter looked up at him. "Are you Romanian?"
"Yes," Mizick replied.
Without looking up, the recruiter instructed, "Go in for a medical examination."
Ultimately, Mizick and one other were hired. Seeing the others who weren't recruited, Bougainville encouraged them, "Well, if the Volkswagen factory didn't work out, you can find other jobs. As long as you're willing to work hard, you can make a living anywhere."
With the development of Romania's industry, more people like Mizick found opportunities for a better life.