Date: November 12th, 1905 – Belgrade, Kingdom of Serbia
The late autumn chill settled over Belgrade, mirroring the cool pragmatism that now guided Petar's days. Minister Paču, with a perpetual frown, etched onto his face, was deep in the thankless task of crafting a budget that could somehow accommodate the King's ambitious economic development initiatives on top of the ongoing military modernization and the kingdom's existing obligations. Stojadinović's Royal Commission, meanwhile, was a hive of activity, dispatching preliminary survey teams to the Kopaonik mountains and Vrška Čuka and drafting the charters for the School of Mines and the National Industrial Development Fund. Petar received regular updates, pleased with the younger man's diligence and innovative approach, a stark contrast to the often-stifling inertia of the established ministries.
The machine gun school at Ćuprija was also reportedly making good progress, the first cadres of NCOs and officers fully immersed in mastering the intricacies of the Maxim gun. General Putnik assured him that the initial enthusiasm was high, and the instructors were rigorously drilling the men in both the weapon's mechanics and its tactical deployment. These were all positive developments, tangible fruits of his assertive reign.
Yet, amidst these carefully cultivated projects, the shadow of Major Dragutin Dimitrijević – Apis – and his clandestine 'Ujedinjenje ili Smrt!' society loomed large in Petar's mind. Colonel Mišić's reports, though discreet and infrequent, painted a consistent picture of a powerful, ideologically driven faction within his army, a faction whose fierce nationalism could be both an asset and an existential threat. Their impatience for "action" against Austria-Hungary and the Ottomans, their disdain for civilian governance, and their proven capacity for ruthless violence were all factors Petar could not ignore.
He knew that simply monitoring them was insufficient. Allowing such a potent, uncontrolled force to fester within the army was like harboring a viper in his house. He needed a more proactive strategy. His first instinct, drawing upon Alex Volkov's historical understanding of managing such groups, was to try and dilute their influence by promoting men whose loyalty was unequivocally to the Crown and the state rather than to secret oaths and radical agendas.
"Mišić," Petar said during one of their private discussions in late October, "while your intelligence on Major Dimitrijević's group is vital, we must also actively cultivate and empower those officers who embody professionalism, discipline, and unwavering loyalty to the legitimate chain of command. Are there not commanders, perhaps at the regimental or divisional level, known for their steadfastness, whose careers might benefit from… royal attention?"
Together, they reviewed lists of senior officers. Peter made several subtle but significant personnel changes over the following weeks, guided by Mišić's knowledge of reputations and Putnik's occasional, carefully worded assessments. A colonel known for his strict adherence to regulations and disinterest in political maneuvering was promoted to command a key brigade. Another, who had quietly expressed concerns about the growing influence of "patriotic societies" to Mišić, was appointed to a sensitive position within the Belgrade garrison. These were small moves, unlikely to alarm Apis and his followers overtly, but intended to place reliable men in strategic posts, creating a counterweight.
This was a necessary defensive measure, but Petar felt it wasn't enough. Apis was too central, charismatic, and dangerous to remain a mere abstraction, a name in intelligence reports. He needed to take the measure of the man himself, look into his eyes, and understand the mind behind the myth already beginning to form around him. It was a risk, Petar knew. A direct interaction, however carefully managed, could be misinterpreted and even embolden Apis if Petar seemed too interested or accommodating. But the alternative, operating in ignorance, felt even more perilous.
"Colonel Mišić," Petar announced one November morning after much internal deliberation. "I wish to gain a more… personal understand Major Dimitrijević's capabilities. I believe he is involved in contingency planning for the southern borders. I intend to inspect the General Staff's operations section next week, focusing on those southern contingency plans. Ensure Major Dimitrijević is present and prepared to brief me on his contributions."
Mišić's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly. "Your Majesty, that could be… delicate. Major Dimitrijević is not known for his deference, even to superiors he nominally respects."
"I am not seeking deference, Colonel," Petar replied coolly. "I am seeking understanding. Arrange it. I will handle Major Dimitrijević."
The inspection was scheduled for November 12th. Peter arrived at the General Staff headquarters accompanied only by Mišić, projecting an air of focused professionalism. He was received by the head of the operations section, a grizzled older general, who then presented his key staff officers. Among them, standing out due to an almost palpable aura of coiled intensity, was Major Dragutin Dimitrijević.
Apis was younger than Petar had perhaps pictured, likely in his late twenties or early thirties. He was tall and powerfully built, with a bull neck that gave credence to his nickname. His dark eyes were piercing, intelligent, and held a spark of something that Petar could only describe as fanaticism. He met the King's gaze directly, without a hint of servility, offering a curt, correct military salute.
During the formal briefing on Macedonian contingency plans, delivered by the section head, Apis remained silent and watchful. When the general discussion began, Petar steered the conversation. "Major Dimitrijević," he said, his tone even, addressing him directly. "Your reputation for… energetic thinking on matters of national concern precedes you. Regarding these southern contingencies, what, in your view, are the most pressing unconventional threats we face, and what unconventional solutions might Serbia employ to counter them, or indeed, to advance its interests in the region?"
It was a deliberate probe, an invitation for Apis to reveal a glimpse of his strategic mind and perhaps his radicalism. Apis did not disappoint. He spoke for nearly ten minutes, his voice surprisingly deep and resonant, his arguments clear, incisive, and utterly devoid of diplomatic platitudes. He spoke of the need for Serbian agents to actively support and unify the disparate Serb populations and Komitadji bands in Macedonia, to undermine Ottoman authority from within, and to be prepared for swift, decisive military intervention when the opportune moment arose. He dismissed concerns about international opinion with a wave, arguing that only strength and accomplished facts earned respect. He hinted at the need for a more "nationally-minded" officer corps, fully committed to the "sacred task of unification."
It was a breathtaking display of nationalist fervor and strategic audacity, delivered with an almost hypnotic conviction. Peter listened intently, interjecting only with brief, clarifying questions, drawing Apis out, observing his passionate gestures, the way his eyes gleamed when he spoke of "Serb lands groaning under foreign yokes." Alex Volkov, the historian, recognized the dangerous allure of such rhetoric, the kind that could lead men to commit terrible acts in the name of a glorious ideal. King Petar, the ruler, saw a formidable, perhaps uncontrollable, force.
"Your vision is… bold, Major," Petar said when Apis finally paused. "It presupposes a Serbia with a military and economic strength we do not yet fully possess, and a willingness to defy the Great Powers, which carries self-evident risks."
"Strength is forged in action, Your Majesty, not in timid calculation!" Apis retorted, a flash of impatience in his eyes. "And the Great Powers respect only those who dare to discover their destiny. With a King willing to lead decisively, the Serbian army can achieve miracles even as it is. We need only the will, the sacred fire!"
The air crackled with unspoken tension. Apis was not just briefing his King; he was, in a way, challenging him, testing his mettle, perhaps even trying to recruit him to his fervent cause. Peter held his gaze. "The sacred fire must be tempered with wisdom, Major, lest it consume the house it seeks to warm. Audacity without careful preparation leads to disaster. Serbia will act, but it will act when it is ready, when the odds are favorable, and when its leadership, my leadership, deems the moment right." He infused his voice with an icy authority, clearly asserting his ultimate command.
A flicker of something – surprise? Respect? Defiance? – crossed Apis's face. He said nothing further on that point, but the intensity of his gaze did not waver.
The rest of the inspection was a formality. Peter asked pertinent questions of other officers and reviewed maps and documents, but his mind replayed the encounter with Apis. When he finally departed the General Staff headquarters, he felt a profound disquiet and a grudging acknowledgment of the Major's raw power.
"Well, Colonel?" Peter said to Mišić as their carriage pulled away. "Your thoughts on Major Dimitrijević?"
Mišić was visibly troubled. "He is… a force of nature, Your Majesty. A true believer. And utterly convinced of his righteousness. He is a man who could lead soldiers through the gates of hell for a cause he believes in." He paused. "And I fear he believes his cause is Serbia's only true path, regardless of who nominally sits on the throne."
Peter nodded slowly. Mišić's assessment mirrored his own. Apis was not a man who could be easily managed or controlled through conventional means. His loyalty was to an ideal, a fanatical vision of Greater Serbia, and the King was merely an instrument, valuable only as long as he served that vision.
That evening, alone in his study, Petar contemplated his options. He couldn't crush Apis and the Black Hand overtly without risking a major internal conflict within the army, the very instrument he was trying to strengthen. But he couldn't ignore them either. Their impatient radicalism could drag Serbia into a premature war, a war it was not yet ready to fight, potentially with catastrophic consequences – as Alex Volkov knew only too well it eventually would.
He needed to be more innovative and more subtle. He would continue to bolster professional, loyalist officers. He would strive to make his leadership and vision for a strong, modern, and eventually dominant Serbia so compelling that it would naturally draw the best and brightest away from the allure of secret societies and reckless adventurism. And he would keep Apis under the closest possible scrutiny, looking for any opportunity to channel his formidable energies towards state goals or, if necessary, to isolate and neutralize his influence before he could set the Balkans and the world ablaze.
The dance with shadows had begun in earnest. Petar knew it would be a long and perilous one, a constant test of his nerve, intellect, and will to power. Forging his empire required not just shaping armies and economies but also the careful, dangerous management of the human passions that could just as easily destroy it.