Moltke listened quietly to the complaints of General Pritwitz, although he did not agree with all of them. He knew that Pritwitz harbored resentment, and if he did not allow him to vent, the consequences could be far worse.
Moltke understood Pritwitz well. The man had little ability beyond his knack for reading others and ingratiating himself. Even if he had been made the commander of the 8th Corps, there was no way he could have led them to a glorious victory on the Eastern Front.
Though Moltke had reservations about Qin Tian, he could not deny his competence. Initially, the 8th Corps had been the weakest unit in the German Army, but under Qin Tian's leadership, it had undergone a complete transformation. Through substantial investment and strategic reorganization, the 8th Corps had become one of the most formidable units in the German military.
Moreover, during the subsequent battles on the Eastern Front, Qin Tian's command of the 8th Corps was masterful—whether it was luring the enemy into deep terrain or coordinating with the Austro-Hungarians to strike a crushing blow to the Russian forces. Moltke had to admit, even he would have struggled to perform better.
As for General Pritwitz, Moltke believed that had he taken command of the 8th Corps, the German forces on the Eastern Front would not only have failed to achieve victory but would likely have suffered a disastrous defeat. In such a case, the outcome of the war itself would be in jeopardy.
Despite these private thoughts, Moltke did not express them outwardly. He held no affection for Pritwitz, but neither would he openly antagonize him. After all, he was no longer the powerful Chief of the General Staff but merely an old man, living out his days in retirement.
After a lengthy bout of complaining, Pritwitz finally paused and looked at Moltke, continuing, "Count, I know you must be feeling discontent as well."
Moltke gave a wry smile. "Discontent? What of it? Now we are all but failures, no longer in a position to oppose the Crown Prince. He has led the army to decisive victories in this war. It's clear that his position will only grow stronger, and no one will be able to challenge him. If we persist in our delusions, we will simply be striking stones with eggs."
Pritwitz nodded solemnly. "Indeed, Count, it is true. Oscar has been lucky beyond measure."
"But Count," Pritwitz continued, "we are not entirely without hope. There is now an excellent opportunity before us. If we play our cards right, we may yet bring him down. In fact, we could gain significant rewards in the process."
Moltke's brows rose at this. The idea of removing Qin Tian from the position of Crown Prince was tempting, but was it truly possible? He believed it would be an extraordinarily difficult feat.
"General, what are you implying? A coup?" Moltke's tone became serious.
In any country, those who sought to overthrow the government were seldom shown mercy. Success might grant them power, but failure could cost them everything, even their lives.
"No, Count," Pritwitz replied, "not a coup. I assure you, we have legitimate reasons. Allow me to take you to meet someone. Once you see who it is, everything will be clear to you."
Moltke did not respond immediately but fell into deep thought. Reason told him that what Pritwitz was suggesting was dangerous—too risky. A misstep could cost him everything. Yet, the ambition he had so carefully buried was beginning to stir once more. Moltke had always been deeply fond of power, or he would never have tried to leverage his connections with Kaiser Wilhelm II to maintain his position after the failure on the Western Front.
Now, Pritwitz's words had ignited a spark of desire within him.
"Very well," Moltke said. "I'll go with you, General. I'm curious to see what you have planned. If it seems untrustworthy, I will refuse to participate."
"Thank you, Count. I'm sure you'll make the right decision," Pritwitz replied with a look of reassurance, as if he already knew Moltke would join them.
Moltke was intrigued, wondering just who Pritwitz wished to introduce him to. A dozen names flickered through his mind, but none seemed to hold the same weight as the current Crown Prince, Qin Tian.
Moltke and Pritwitz left Berlin that night by car, heading for Potsdam. The car did not take them to the royal palace but instead to a secluded estate.
Once the gates of the estate opened, the car drove inside.
"Please, Count," Pritwitz said, gesturing for him to step out.
Moltke followed Pritwitz into the hall, where a young man stood waiting, his expression mild. Moltke recognized him immediately—he was Prince Eitel Friedrich, the second son of Kaiser Wilhelm II.
"Good evening, Count," Prince Eitel Friedrich greeted with a nod.
"Your Highness," Moltke responded with a slight bow.
As he exchanged pleasantries, a thought crossed his mind: Was it Prince Eitel who was seeking to join forces with Pritwitz and instigate a coup?
Moltke was doubtful. Though Prince Eitel Friedrich was the Emperor's second son, in terms of ability and influence, he could not hold a candle to Qin Tian. Moltke was convinced that any attempt at a coup would end in failure.
"Count, please follow me," Prince Eitel said, motioning toward the stairs.
Moltke was taken aback. Was this the person he was supposed to meet?
He followed Prince Eitel upstairs to a bedroom. When the door opened, Moltke froze. Sitting before him in a wheelchair was none other than the former Crown Prince of the Empire, Wilhelm II's eldest son.