Russia concedes

The palace guards were well aware of the Crown Prince Edel's tempestuous temperament, and they tread lightly around him, fearful of incurring his wrath. Among them, only the Chief of the Guard, Carust, maintained a demeanor of calm indifference. On the sixth day of the Romanian military exercises, Carust hurried down the palace corridor, a rare sight that signaled urgency. Those who knew him well understood that something significant must have occurred to disturb his usual composure.

"Your Royal Highness, this is Russia's latest statement," Carust announced as he entered the Crown Prince's office, where Edel awaited anxiously.

"Show it to me," Edel commanded, reaching for the telegram in Carust's hand. He scrutinized the message carefully, a sigh of relief escaping him as the tension drained from his body. Straightening his attire, he regained his composure before addressing his chief guard.

"Carust, I understand. Tell the guards they needn't be so tense around me; I'm not a monster," Edel said, a hint of humor in his voice.

"Very well, my lord. I'll inform them," Carust replied, pleased to see the Crown Prince in better spirits. He knew that in recent times, only the most tactful guards were assigned to Edel to avoid any outbursts of anger.

After Carust departed, Edel, feeling lighter, briskly took the telegram to his father, King Carol I, to share the promising news. He intercepted Viscount Adli, who was about to announce his arrival, and entered his father's room unannounced.

"Is that you, Edel?" King Carol I inquired, not looking up from his desk.

"Yes, father," Edel responded, approaching him.

"It seems Russia has made concessions," Carol I remarked, his voice steady and informed, a testament to his years of adeptly steering Romania through turbulent times.

"You always seem to know everything, father," Edel remarked, finding a stool and sitting down.

"In Romania, nothing escapes my notice," the king said with a slight smile, setting aside his pen and massaging the bridge of his nose. "I only wish I still had the energy of my younger days."

"To me, you are still as formidable as ever, nothing can defeat you," Edel said, his voice carrying a mix of admiration and concern. He remembered his father's relentless energy and now observed the signs of aging in his once indefatigable parent.

"After Russia's retreat, Serbia will likely follow suit. But the tensions are escalating. We may not always be so fortunate," Carol I shifted the conversation back to state matters, the brief interlude of familial warmth giving way to the weight of kingship.

"We remain dependent on Germany's support. Hopefully, we won't find ourselves in such a passive position again," Edel shared his father's concerns, reflecting on his own naivety in dealing with historical crises and the harsh lessons he had learned from the German emperor.

After further discussion, Edel left his father's room. With the immediate crisis seemingly resolved, his attention returned to the ongoing military exercises, keen to learn how his troops were faring.

In the general staff office, Edel listened intently to the chief of staff's report on the exercise. The summary highlighted several issues, notably the mismanagement in transportation logistics and discipline problems among the mobile units, including delays, disorganization, and unauthorized interactions with civilians.

"These exercises reveal our weaknesses. We must increase our training efforts," Edel concluded, addressing Puleshan, the chief of staff seated beside him.

"I will address these issues sternly," Puleshan assured him, though his expression was grave.

"Let's not be too harsh. The officers are likely more frustrated than us. These exercises are crucial for improving our readiness," Edel counseled, seeking to balance discipline with encouragement.

"I'll plan more such exercises to better prepare our forces for wartime conditions," Puleshan responded, appreciating the Crown Prince's perspective.

Satisfied with the progress, Edel decided to visit the officer's school, a place he hadn't inspected in a while. He instructed his driver to head there instead of returning to the palace.

Upon arriving, Edel was swiftly greeted by Principal Prossi and several senior instructors. Their salutes and the hurried manner of their welcome indicated that his unannounced visit had caught them off guard, yet they were clearly honored by his presence.

"Welcome, Your Highness. I trust your visit doesn't come at an inconvenient time?" Prossi inquired, leading Edel across the campus.

"Not at all, Principal Prossi. I'm eager to see how our new cadets are performing," Edel replied, his eyes scanning the young men rigorously training on the parade ground.

"These recruits show promise, especially given their strong educational backgrounds and tactical understanding," Prossi reported, pride evident in his voice.

As they observed the training, the presence of high-ranking officials, including the Crown Prince, made the cadets visibly nervous, leading to mistakes that didn't escape Edel's notice. Amused yet aware of the potential disruption his presence caused, he soon moved on, allowing the training to proceed without further disturbance.

After inspecting various facilities, Edel's attention was caught by a heated debate emanating from the war game room. Inside, two instructors, Hoffman and Rixiva, were engaged in a spirited discussion about future warfare technologies and strategies.

Intrigued, Edel entered the room, his arrival pausing the debate. Prossi quickly introduced the instructors, and Edel expressed his fascination with their discussion, encouraging them to continue exploring such innovative ideas.

The next day, back at the palace, Edel requested detailed information on Hoffman, whose forward-thinking had impressed him. He learned that Hoffman was a Romanian German with a background in the German military, whose progressive theories had been too radical for his peers, leading him to return to Romania.

As Edel pondered the potential of such a visionary in his military, news arrived that Serbia had capitulated, further easing the regional tensions. This development, combined with the insights gained from the military exercises and the promising prospects at the officer's school, left Edel contemplative about the future challenges and opportunities that lay ahead for Romania.

Edel had been closely observing the recent activities of his head guard, Carust, who had prudently arranged for a guard to be stationed in the telegraph room continuously. This ensured that any urgent news would reach them without delay. Now that the crisis that had loomed over Romania had finally subsided, Edel, who was not known to be ungrateful, felt it was appropriate to express his thanks to the Chief Guard.

"Your Royal Highness, you are too kind. I merely performed my duties; it wasn't anything extraordinary," Carust replied, his voice betraying a slight unsteadiness. As someone who had served close to the crown prince for many years, Carust was well aware of the rarity of such commendations. There were perhaps no more than five people in all of Romania who had heard the crown prince speak in such a grateful tone. The gesture deeply moved Carust, who, despite being born the second son of a minor nobleman, had risen to a position of significant influence and responsibility.

Edel had been inadvertently drawn into the complexities of the Bosnia-Herzegovina crisis due to maneuvers by the Kaiser. With that chapter behind him, his focus now shifted towards the continued development and fortification of Romania. He was acutely aware of the vulnerabilities of a small nation, thinking to himself, "These relentless Audleys are always eyeing our territory. We cannot let this continue. They must be made to feel the wrath of the Serbs."

Meanwhile, in Serbia, Colonel Dimitrijevic, the head of intelligence at the Serbian Army General Staff, was expressing similar sentiments in his office. He confided in his friend and colleague, Lieutenant Colonel Mikowski, about his frustrations following Serbia's coerced renunciation of claims to Bosnia and Herzegovina. Dimitrijevic, a fervent advocate for a unified Serbian state, was particularly incensed by the situation. His nationalist sentiments were widely recognized and shared among many Serbs during the surge of nationalism in the early twentieth century.

"This is one approach, but where do we begin?" asked Lieutenant Colonel Mikowski, a man of action who had previously collaborated with Dimitrijevic in the 1903 coup d'état that resulted in the assassination of the pro-Austrian King Alexander-Abrenovic and his queen.

Dimitrijevic, pacing back and forth, proposed, "What if we recruit and train operatives in Bosnia to stir unrest upon their return, inciting dissatisfaction among the people?"

However, he quickly recognized a significant flaw in his plan. If the operatives were caught by Austro-Hungarian authorities, they might reveal their connections to Serbia, potentially leading to severe repercussions. Dimitrijevic was not afraid of personal risk, but he was cautious about endangering his country, given Austria-Hungary's aggressive ambitions towards Serbia.

Mikowski suggested using civilian organizations as a cover, but Dimitrijevic dismissed the idea, knowing the Austro-Hungarian intelligence capabilities would likely uncover such a scheme.

"We need to act, or the locals will lean towards Austria-Hungary without our support," Mikowski argued, his voice tinged with urgency.

"The more critical the moment, the less we can afford to act rashly," Dimitrijevic cautioned, trying to temper his friend's impatience.

"Then we pray for an accident to befall the Austro-Hungarians in Bosnia, though I doubt God will intervene," Mikowski half-joked, revealing his frustration.

Dimitrijevic, struck by an idea from Mikowski's offhand remark, paused to contemplate. Seeing his friend deep in thought, Mikowski remained silent, not wanting to disrupt the brainstorming process.

After a moment, Dimitrijevic's eyes lit up with a strategic insight. "If we want to make a lasting impression on the people of Bosnia, we need a significant event. Riots are too risky and easily traced back to us. What we need is something that requires fewer people, like an assassination of a high-ranking official. It's discreet, impactful, and easier to deny involvement."

Mikowski listened intently as Dimitrijevic outlined a plan to form a covert organization focused on high-profile assassinations. "This could indeed work. It would demonstrate to the Bosnians that resistance is alive and well, stir nationalistic fervor, and weaken Austro-Hungarian control, all while maintaining our security and secrecy."

Dimitrijevic acknowledged the gravity of their undertaking. "As long as Austro-Hungary continues its aggression towards Bosnia and Herzegovina, we have no choice but to inspire our people to resist. For the sake of my homeland, I am prepared to make any sacrifice."

In that small office, the two men laid the groundwork for what would become known as the Black Hand Society. They decided the organization would aim for the unification of Serbian territories and would operate on a voluntary basis, with recruits taking an oath that underscored their commitment to their cause.

Mikowski, after a moment of reflection, suggested, "It's best if I handle the outward dealings of our organization."

Dimitrijevic, understanding his friend's intention to shield him, nodded in agreement. "Very well, but be exceedingly cautious."

With a determined glint in his eye, Mikowski assured him, "Don't worry, I am beyond threats."

Thus, in a secluded building on the outskirts of Belgrade, the Black Hand Society was officially established, destined to grow as Serbian nationalism flourished. Neither Dimitrijevic nor Mikowski could have fully anticipated the impact their creation would have on the course of history.