King Ferdinand leaned over and whispered to one of the men bearing witness to this historical event. The man in question was recording the words that had been spoken by all those who were present for these negotiations.
And after a slight nod of his head, the man stood up and departed. This act caught the curious gaze of the leaders of the Central Powers, of which King Constantine I of Greece was the most belligerent, and was thus quick to interrogate his Bulgarian Peer over what he had just done.
“And what, pray tell, is your pawn up to in our absence that is so important that he must disregard his job as the scribe for this meeting?”
Ferdinand obviously did not take kindly to the implications that he was somehow plotting or scheming against the backs of those he was trying to negotiate with and was thus compelled to reveal his hand, even if it was a bit sooner than he wished to do so.
“If you must know, Constantine, I was telling my subordinate to go contact a representative of Waffenwerke von Zehntner and establish a proper meeting face to face so that I can purchase the rights to domestically manufacture their equipment as the Kaiser has just given me his blessing…”
A bold move by the King of Bulgaria, the Kaiser had not outright agreed, merely stated that he could be willing to give permission to the von Zentner family if such a card were in play, but he did not state that he had explicitly done so.
Either way, this aggressive attachment had forced the Kaiser to relent on this regard, for to declare that the King of Bulgaria had “misunderstood” his words would be as good as killing these negotiations here and now.
A certain amount of face had to be saved in diplomatic meetings among monarchs, even if one monarch was in a vastly inferior position to the other. And thus, Wilhelm sighed and shook his head before continuing his train of thought.
“Again, I must reiterate, though I can grant permission to the von Zehntner family to license the manufacture of their weapons to Bulgaria, it is ultimately up to them whether they choose to proceed with the sale.
Either way, in the meantime we need to get back to the matter at hand. It is simple; we need military access through your southern border in order to attack the Ottoman Empire in the West, while simultaneously attacking them in the East.
And in doing so ensuring a quick end to the roaches who have been a plague in the Balkans for far too long… So, considering that these lands that we must pass through in order to commence with our operations are disputed between yourself, and my ally Constantine…
How about I alleviate some of your fears by assuring you that every single soldier in the Hellenic Army who will be taking part in the invasion of Eastern Thrace will be sent through the Black Sea rather than through your borders?”
Constantine shot Wilhelm a dirty glance, as if the man was trying to deliberately deprive him of an opportunity to unlawfully maintain a military presence in the disputed territories he desired for Greece.
However, the other members of the Central Powers sighed in relief, as they too shared the Bulgarian King’s suspicions in regards to the ulterior motives of the Hellenic Army. These motives could be denied entirely, so long as the Greeks took the railway to Odessa and then sailed with the Russians across the Black Sea and towards the landing point they had in mind. This meant that the Germans and Austro-Hungarians would be marching upon the Ottoman Empire through the southernmost region of the Kingdom of Bulgaria, which were two major powers who had no disputes or interests in seizing any of Bulgaria’s current territory.
And upon taking the initiative to offer such a compromise, Ferdinand I, King of Bulgaria, was far more willing to concede on his previous ambitions of acquiring German military technology. However, he still put on a façade, and acted like he was giving up a more than he actually was in these negotiations.
As the reality was, he did not gain much in terms of immediate tangible benefits by doing this. And he had no doubt in his mind that the moment the Ottoman Empire collapsed, it would be all out war between Greece and Bulgaria to determine who gained control of Eastern Thrace and the city of Constantinople with it.
With all of this in mind, Ferdinand sighed heavily, and shook his head before revealing what he really desired.
“While I am thankful for your gesture, an act that is most certainly beneficial to my country and its sovereign lands, rather than biased in favor of your ally’s claims. I must say, I still don’t get all that much out of this resolution.
No… No… No… You still need to sweeten the pot… So, to speak.”
This was exactly what Wilhelm, and the others, feared, that Ferdinand would go out of his way to milk these negotiations for all he could get. And it was most certainly not in Constantine’s favor, as the King of Bulgaria had blatantly said.
If war were to break out between Bulgaria and Greece, the Hellenic Armed Forces would need all the benefits they could get from this exchange. And Constantine was about to make an outburst in his defense, when the doors to the room opened, and the man who had run out minutes before at Ferdinand’s request came in once more.
His pace was brisk, and while it appeared like the man was trying to project the appearance of serenity, his twitching fingers, and abnormally hastened gait were dead giveaways that something had gone terribly wrong, even if his face did not reveal the slightest trace of it.
Everyone remained silent as the messenger leaned in and whispered to his king, causing the Bulgarian monarch to damn near jump out of his seat in agitation as he screamed something in his native tongue that only he and the interpreter could understand. Not that the man translating his words dare to speak what was said.
“He did what?”
Whispers continued, and the conversation between the messenger and the King of Bulgaria became increasingly frantic. With the only words being intelligence within the long winded and agitated rant being a question of whether or not something could be connected to
someone…
Heinrich and his men returned to Sarajevo as quickly as they could manage. As the elite special reconnaissance soldiers Bruno sent far behind enemy lines to gather intelligence, engage in sabotage and assassination, as well as coordinate air strikes and artillery barrages on hostile positions, he was perhaps the only colonel allowed to stand at attention among a meeting of Generals.
And the moment he entered the room; he could sense that something had gone horribly wrong somewhere. Bruno was, for perhaps, the first time since Heinrich had met the man, thoroughly intoxicated. There was an empty bottle of vodka on his desk, and half of another, along with an entire empty box of cigarettes.
The buds of the tobacco he had smoked were clearly crunched up in the ashtray. Having had the alcohol tolerance of Dionysus himself, Bruno had never actually been intoxicated in front of Heinrich, nor did he commonly put himself in such a state.
His deep sense of paranoia required a constant state of a clear mind, and excessive alcohol consumption prevented that. Even so, Bruno was drunk, not terribly so despite the fact that by now the liquid pumping through his veins should be more vodka than blood. But still enough that his words were slow and slightly discombobulated.
If this wasn’t bad enough, the other generals present seemed to have drunk and smoke their own fair share of alcohol and tobacco. As they all had a gloomy look on their faces. Considering that this setting was better suited to a funeral than a strategic meeting, Heinrich couldn’t help but crack a joke that he ended up regretting.
“Just who the hell got himself killed for you all to look so glum?”
Bruno glared at Heinrich, clearly showing that now was not the time for such humor, but his words were a far sharper knife than his gaze.
“Prince Alexander of Greece….”
Perhaps misunderstanding that Bruno was actually responding to his rhetorical question with a legitimate answer, Heinrich raised his brow in confusion before asking for clarification…
“I’m sorry… I don’t quite-“
He was instantly cut off by the Austro-Hungarian General attached to the theater, whose voice was filled with rage and indignation as he condemned those responsible.
“The second Prince of Greece is dead! Killed by Orthodox militants with weapons provided by those fucking Bulgarians! The moment word reaches Geneva of this matter, there will be no peaceful resolution to our march through Western Thrace… There will be war… And Bulgaria will join arms with the Ottomans to prevent our advance…”
Heinrich was completely and utterly stunned. Until now the militants’ attacks had been less frequent, and primarily isolated to regions such as Kosovo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, as well as Albania, and Serbia. For an attack to happen in Greece, and to take the life of the Hellenic
Prince. It was damn near unthinkable.
That is until Bruno spoke on the matter.
“Alexander wasn’t the target, but he was caught in the blast…. It doesn’t matter. The weapons used to kill him were given to the militants by agents of the Bulgarian Crown. This is precisely why I called you back from Kosovo when I did.
I’m not going to wait for the Bulgarian and Ottoman Army to combine arms and project their strength to their borders before a formal declaration of war.
I need you and your men to infiltrate behind the new frontline in Western Thrace, and to begin sabotaging Bulgarian heavy weapons, manufacturing plants, and munitions stockpiles. As well as assassinating high-profile targets within the Royal Bulgarian Army.
Though they are a minor power, the Soldiers of Bulgaria have the hearts of lions… It will not be a bloodless fight, even if numerical superiority and technological supremacy are on our side. And they will not go quietly.
Do you understand your orders, Colonel Koch?”
Heinrich immediately saluted his commanding officer and responded in affirmative to his orders. Whatever the hell may come, they would face it together as they always had up until
that point.
“Yes, sir!”
Bruno nodded his head and stood up, downing the vodka that remained in his glass before giving out another order to his adjutant nearby.
“Good, then go about your business. And you! Contact Colonel von Humboldt, wherever the
hell he may be. I’m going to need my mad dog to finish what I have started here in Bosnia if I am going to be marching into Constantinople…
It has been nearly five centuries since Constantinople fell to the Turks… But mark my words, by this year’s end, Saint Constantine’s holy city shall return to its rightful owners! In hoc signo vinces!”