Berlin, Moltke's Residence.
After dinner, Moltke spent a brief time conversing with his family before, as was his custom, retiring to his office. Despite his recent dismissal, he still held considerable influence within the German Army, receiving numerous battle reports, as was often the case.
Though Qin Tian's leadership had brought unprecedented victories for the German forces within France, Moltke was far from conceding defeat. He was firmly convinced that his abilities, particularly in military command, surpassed those of Qin Tian. To prove this, Moltke had begun writing a book, intending to immortalize his military strategies and thoughts. He was confident that future generations would be able to distinguish between his genius and the failures of others.
That evening, Moltke had just donned his reading glasses and was preparing to begin his work when a servant entered, announcing that General Prittwitz wished to see him.
Moltke furrowed his brow. Although he shared a cordial relationship with Prittwitz, their meetings had become increasingly rare since his dismissal. After all, a man who had lost his position as Chief of Staff could no longer be of much use to a general like Prittwitz. Moreover, both men had longstanding grievances with Qin Tian. If they were seen frequently in each other's company, word might reach the prince, potentially casting a shadow on their reputations. Neither of them wished to provoke such suspicions, so they had deliberately reduced their meetings.
Unsure of Prittwitz's motives for visiting at such a late hour, Moltke nonetheless instructed the servant to admit him.
"Good evening, Count!" Prittwitz greeted him warmly upon entering. Moltke, still a count by title—though it was an inherited one, not one he had earned—nodded in acknowledgment.
"Good evening, General," Moltke replied with a nod.
"Count, I hear that you are writing a book on military strategy. I have been eagerly awaiting the chance to read it," Prittwitz said, his tone full of admiration.
"General, I am simply writing for my own amusement. Whether it is ever published remains uncertain," Moltke replied modestly, shaking his head.
"Ah, Count, with your unparalleled military command abilities, I have no doubt your book will be met with great acclaim. Even now, many within the Imperial Army still hold you in the highest regard. Even though Falkenhayn's rise to power has caused us all to endure some pressure, we continue to hope and wait for the day when you will return to lead us to even greater victories," Prittwitz said passionately, his voice brimming with conviction.
A flicker of satisfaction passed across Moltke's eyes. To still have so many supporters within the army was, indeed, a source of comfort. Of course, many of those close to him were now in less-than-ideal positions, some having even opted for retirement. When von Falkenhayn took office, it was only natural for him to purge Moltke's faction, as any new leader would do. Though Moltke understood this on a rational level, it did not sit well with him emotionally.
Still, he held little hope of ever returning to a position of power. Qin Tian's influence within the Empire and the army was undeniable, his standing growing ever stronger. Though Falkenhayn's abilities were not exceptional, his leadership had resulted in successive victories for the army. To the untrained eye, this made Falkenhayn appear far more capable than Moltke, who had failed to secure similar successes. Many failed to see the deeper truths, instead believing that Moltke's lack of victories proved his incompetence. Falkenhayn's triumphs, backed by Qin Tian's unwavering support, had solidified his position, rendering it unassailable.
"General, I am but a man who has been dismissed. There is no point in clinging to unrealistic dreams," Moltke said, shaking his head in resignation. Though he longed to return to military service, ideally to reclaim his former post, he knew that such aspirations were futile. The prospect of actively pursuing them would only invite the ire of Qin Tian and Falkenhayn, and bring trouble upon himself. To avoid further complications, and for the sake of his own future, Moltke had buried these hopes deep within his heart.
"Count, why must you be so hard on yourself? With your experience and prestige in the army, there is no one who can rival you. I firmly believe you still have a chance," Prittwitz said, his voice filled with determination.
Moltke shook his head again. "Let it go, General. One must accept reality, or risk being swept into danger. My advice to you is to be prudent from now on. While His Highness the Crown Prince may not personally seek to undermine you, there are many who know of your history with him. Those eager to gain favor with the Crown Prince will no doubt try to exploit this and turn it against you. If I were in your position, I would request immediate retirement, leave Berlin, and settle somewhere quiet. It is the safest path forward."
Prittwitz's face alternated between pale and flushed with emotion. He understood that Moltke was offering advice for his own good, but he couldn't help feeling deeply dissatisfied. The prospect of relinquishing his power and leaving the vibrant city of Berlin was something he could not easily accept.
Moreover, after his meeting with that person, a flicker of hope had reignited within him.
"No, we haven't lost yet. We still have a chance. We cannot give up now!" Prittwitz muttered to himself, his resolve hardening.
Taking a deep breath, Prittwitz steadied himself before speaking again. The purpose of his visit was not merely to discuss the current situation, but to persuade Moltke to join him in a new endeavor. Despite his dismissal, Moltke still wielded enormous influence within the military. If Moltke were to join their cause, their chances of success would increase exponentially.
"Count, I am not content with the current situation. You know, the position of commander of the 8th Corps was originally mine. However, the Crown Prince intervened, preventing me from taking it. Had I been in command, the 8th Corps would have surely made a name for itself on the Eastern Front. Do you think I can simply accept this?" Prittwitz said, his eyes red with emotion.