Chapter 736 - 736: A Demonic Monk of the Age

Queen Marie stared at the map, her eyes unblinking, her heart a tangled mix of anxiety and hope.

Why didn't I think of this before?

Charles' approach cleverly reframed Romania's one-sided plea for help into an act of self-preservation for Russia.

So instead of "assisting," it became "self-rescue" on Russia's part—turning the tables so that Russia appeared to be the one in need of Romania.

Sending 200,000 troops might just be the beginning. Even if Romania didn't explicitly ask for more, Russia would likely continue dispatching soldiers in a steady stream.

Truly, a single sentence had changed the fate of a nation.

What gave this young man such astonishing influence? The fate of entire countries, even matters of life and death, seemed to turn at the palm of his hand.

Then Queen Marie hesitated.

"But… how do we convince the Russians to adopt this strategy?"

"Simple," Charles replied. "You just need to contact Brusilov and tell him it was my idea. He'll consider it seriously."

Enlightenment dawned on her face. "So… the rumors are true?"

"What rumors?" Charles hadn't heard them.

"They say—" Queen Marie looked at him with a smile full of admiration. "They say Brusilov won this war because of your advice."

Charles didn't answer directly. "You can ask Brusilov yourself. Now that he's won the battle, his influence must be at an all-time high. Convincing the Tsar shouldn't be too hard."

Then he paused, adding, "But you'll need to watch out for someone."

"Who?" Queen Marie's heart skipped. Was there a spy in her midst?

But Charles' next words dispelled her fear.

"Rasputin," he said. "You know who he is, don't you?"

"Oh yes." A look of disdain passed over her face. Her tone was mocking. "There's no one who doesn't know him."

(A note: The image shows Rasputin, the infamous Russian monk. During World War I, Tsar Nicholas II and Empress Alexandra of Russia were deeply devoted to mysticism, blindly trusting Rasputin. Ministers and generals were appointed or dismissed at Rasputin's whim. In just two years after the war broke out, he reshuffled dozens of ministers. He even made battlefield decisions based on "visions.")

Then Queen Marie's face darkened, and she seemed troubled. "You mean… I have to convince Rasputin too?"

"Exactly," Charles said. "Convincing Brusilov ensures military feasibility. Convincing Rasputin, however, ensures political feasibility. And politics always outweighs military matters—do you understand?"

"I understand," she said, though clearly reluctant. "But… you probably don't know what kind of person Rasputin is…"

She couldn't bring herself to say it aloud.

One of Rasputin's most infamous vices was his lust.

He had a habit of collecting locks of hair from every virgin he slept with. In the end, he accumulated several large boxes of hair.

Charles sighed silently. Queen Marie was still politically naïve.

But it wasn't surprising. Romania, as an oil-rich nation, had been courted by every power before entering the war. Queen Marie had always lived like the center of a galaxy, never having to lower herself.

She was a delicate flower grown in a greenhouse, now finally exposed to the storms of reality.

"You could send someone else," Charles reminded her. "Think of Romania—this is a politically necessary step."

Politics doesn't suit those with a sense of purity. She needed to realize this was standard fare—no different from a modern-day Epstein.

Queen Marie understood. She nodded and handed Charles the contract. Then she pulled a pen from her purse and offered it to him.

"Sign it. This is what you deserve. I've also prepared to welcome your company. As queen, I promise, if needed, I can sign the agreement myself."

"No," Charles replied. "I trust you, Your Majesty."

That wasn't true—Charles didn't trust anyone.

But in this matter, a contract was unnecessary. Contracts exist only to be torn up; they guarantee nothing.

What mattered was that Romania needed Charles' protection.

As now, when Queen Marie couldn't resolve an issue, Charles might only need a few words to reverse the situation.

There would be many such occasions in the future. Romania was surrounded by enemies.

So truly—it was Romania that couldn't afford to lose Charles.

Charles suddenly realized he had, without noticing, grown into a towering tree—one that small nations were eager to cling to.

Well… not in that way.

After Queen Marie left, Deyoka and Camille entered the room—finally.

Clearly, they'd been waiting outside, probably discussing the possibilities. Only when the queen exited did they dare to come in.

Camille gave him a disapproving look. "Who was that?"

Deyoka asked urgently, "Did everything go well?"

Charles raised the contract and waved it lightly. "That was the Queen of Romania, Mom. She came to talk business."

Both of them froze. She was the queen?!

…

In Deyoka's living room, Camille brought over two steaming mugs of hand-ground coffee for Charles and Deyoka.

The Deyoka family hadn't always had the habit of drinking coffee. But perhaps due to Charles' growth, or changing family dynamics, or simply because both Charles and Deyoka were now busy with work, the habit gradually formed.

Still, Charles remained childlike in one regard: he liked his coffee with two sugars and a dash of milk for flavor.

Deyoka, on the other hand, preferred bitter coffee to stay alert.

Deyoka took a sip while his eyes remained fixed on the contract in his hand.

After reading it carefully, he nodded with satisfaction.

"No problems here. I can't believe it—you now own the Ploiești oil field. So, how do you plan to manage it?"

"So eager?" Charles was a bit surprised.

"Of course." Deyoka replied seriously. "This is Romania's largest oil field. If we don't take it over now while they need us, the situation could change at any moment."

Charles agreed.

In business, hesitation kills. Profit that's within reach should be seized immediately.

He wasn't in a hurry only because he knew Romania would need him for a long time to come.

"I think we should hand it over to Joseph," Charles said.

"Joseph?" Deyoka paused, then caught on. "You mean under the name of our American subsidiary?"

Charles nodded.

"Great idea!" Deyoka approved. "Joseph is a reliable partner. We could even have him take American citizenship, then register the company in Romania. That way, it'll be considered an American company."

With the American label, even if just a front, the operation would be far more secure and business would go more smoothly.

At this point, the U.S. was still neutral. Germany feared America's massive industrial capacity and would go to great lengths to avoid provoking it into war.

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