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The Grey Wolf (HOI 4 Romania)

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"Dashing, willful and reckless, a lover of women, champagne and speed, Carol drove racing cars...
Coming home

Pef

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"Dashing, willful and reckless, a lover of women, champagne and speed, Carol drove racing cars and piloted planes, and on state occasions appeared in operetta uniforms with enough ribbons, chains, and orders to sink a small destroyer." this is how a certain British historian described me, the former me at least. It is all true.

Awakening inside the body of a long dead King was a bit of a surprise, especially as this King was inside the pussy of a pretty woman with insatiable appetite for sex and luxury called Elena Lupescu.
Just thinking about it made me hard, not that this new (old?) body of mine could ever be anything else than hard. Medical condition.

The woman I conveniently forgot in Paris as soon as the fateful recall telegram arrived. Instead I brought back to Romania a useful man called Henri_Coandăthe inventor of the jet engine and the less-known Coanda-Effect. (or why water tens to follow the shape of a spoon under a sink jet). Most of the fluids physics and all modern transportation relies on this effect though.

Of course, I promised the man unlimited funds to develop a Romanian jet plane, and even sketched for him a rather absurd (for 1930) Concorde jet. Planes today were barely able to reach 300 kms/hr, thus a passenger plane traveling at Mach 2 sounded a bit far-fetched.
But not impossible. I had the impossible in my head already.

This surprise was the HOI 4 game menu in my mind. Sure, any educated person could imagine a map and plot countries and capitals
on this map, while well-versed geographers and maritime Captains could draw the Earth's map from memory.
But could they zoom in, and gain detailed knowledge about any country, province, city, resource production or military unit? Could they envision technology levels in well-written, concise terms about how many mind-power hours were needed to research this or that technology?

Was anyone able to calculate the logistics of an amphibious in a few seconds? Yeah, I think so too. By myself, I could outplan any General Staff with ease, or control a planned-economy. Not that I wanted to, but I may need to do so anyways. I desired neither death nor dishonor.

As I jumped out of the train in Sinaia to head for my nice Peles Palace, the Royal residence, I glanced at the awaiting people to find a curious (or infamous) historical character among them. Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, the leader of the Legion of Archangel Michael, or otherwise the death-worshiping Iron Legion.

The man would be useful to my larger purpose, once properly trained to listen and obey. I just nodded knowingly towards him, and went to meet Iuliu Maniu and the other National Peasant Party leaders, those who actually recalled me from Paris to become King. Politics were a fun game to play, at least if you had a HOI 4 menu in your head, to show what each path would lead to.

In this case, for the next 4 years or Peasant government my country will gain +30% agriculture and peasant support. Romania's population was made up of 80% for now, so both their crops and political support were rather important. Plus this was 1930, and a Great Depression was going around, making everyone depressed. I could help a bit.

Later, my (former) wife Princess Helen of Greece and my son, the former King Michael enter my living room, just as the politicians left. Of course, in order to become King I had to depose my son from his King office, not that anyone cared.
"Carol, perhaps you remember your son?" my wife, and the daughter of the King of Greece pointed towards the boy.

"Are you upset Michael? You're not a King anymore, now that I've returned." I asked my son with a wry voice.

"I wasn't really a King." Michael muttered a bit muffled. Or maybe I imagined it. Three year old kids were not very articulate.
I measured my son from head to toes, and he did look exactly like a Hohenzollern. You could (almost) see the inbred features. His mother was my cousin, which wasn't quite healthy.

Oh well. My body was probably even worse. A millennia of royal inbreeding was bound to create genetic problems, of which I had my share. Priapismis not as fun as it sounds, although it certainly had its uses for a pleasant kingly life.

"Anyways, now that we've met, it's time for bed" I demanded in kingly voice. (easy for me)
A nurse came to pick up the boy, leaving me with my (once and future) Queen. Troy was razed for a Helen of Greece too. I shall endevour to match my ancestors.

"At least you left that woman behind." Helen spoke in a royal voice, then came a bit closer. She seemed to be quite in love with me, going by her grabbing my genetic disorder with a competent hand.

"Miss Lupescu is probably climbing the stairway to Heaven already. I did introduce her to a number of French philosophers filled with angst and anxieties. " I whispered in in joking tone, while pawing at Helen's breasts.

"...Still the same horny idiot." Helen answered in a low voice, while blushing heavily.

"Must have inherited something from my mother." I chuckled lightly, and drew Helen into bed. We did need to re-knidle our marital (for the sake of our son and country). Also, my dick was always hard (medical condition).

As for my mother, Queen Maria of Edinburgh was perhaps even worse than me, climbing into any bed she wanted, and many places without a bed. Probably the same genetic disease I had, only the female kind.

Much later, I left Helen to rest, and went to meet the waiting Captain, as Codreanu was called by his Legion.

"My King!" the man offered with a decent bow, then went to sit in front of me in the other armchair.

"Corneliu, my man! I've heard many things about you, even from Paris. Something about being unafraid of death?" I asked pouring myself a drink.

The man hesitated for a second, perhaps expecting a trap. "You're not wrong, your Majesty. Our Dacian ancestors would send their messengers to the Gods, by throwing them into spears. Yet, those who cried in fear never reached Heaven. Just the same, a true Romanian can't join the Legion of Archangel Michael and reach Heaven if he's afraid of death." Codreanu answered in a mystical voice.

I could see from his fanatical eyes, how so many young men would be eager to throw themselves into spears.
I nodded knowingly. "Heaven is great. Still, I'd say it's better to send our enemies to die first. The final sacrifice must be a worthy target. I suspect you're not a big fan of the godless communists in the Soviet Union?"

His eyes glared with hidden anger and hate. "I believe the danger of Zion..." he began, then stopped when I raised my palm. I knew all about his anti-Semite sentiments. They were rather prevalent in this world too.

"The Jews have to go home and Palestine is under British Mandate, while my mother is a British noble. We will deal with that problem. But you, and your Angel Legion, I need you to deal with everyone else who is disloyal. Are you loyal to the King and Country, Captain Codreanu?" I asked in a harsh voice.

"Your Majesty, I dare to claim there is nobody more loyal than I am!" Codreanu declared in a fanatical voice, while kneeling in front of me. A loyal man had to be rewarded.

"First thing first, then. We may need to burn Budapest to the ground again. And I would prefer to do it while there is no Hungarian resistance in my country. You understand?" I hummed in a soft, conspiratorial voice. The Romanian Army did intervene to pacify the Soviet Hungary a decade ago, but they didn't finish the job. No matter, I had the right man for the job just here.

"I understand perfectly, your Majesty. Romanian land is for Romanians only. And I do wish you luck with your Palestine plans." Codreanu announced in a fanatical voice, then rose and left in a hurry. His Legion now had orders from the King and plenty of people to kill.

With the Iron Legion diverted from course, and helping me avoiding the Vienna Diktat that ripped Transilvania from my country under Adolf's pressure, I sipped my champagne while a pretty house-maid arrived with my dinner. Her eyes got a bit too wide when she noticed my permanent boner. I could eat.
 
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Game menu
Being a King is something else, I can tell.

One phone call, one whispered order, or a promulgating a law, anything you do has consequences.

Of course, given the ruling party, and the ongoing Depression my actions were mostly aimed at improving peasant condition and agriculture.

Tractor building companies, truck building companies, insecticide via planes and expanding the fishing fleet, and a few ports.
And since any economy functions in a chain, trucks and tractors need oil, which had to be drilled and refined from the Ploiesti oil-fields.

Crops needed rail transport, which meant trains. Trains needed coal, which was mostly mined at Targu Jiu, but mining coal needed tools and so on.

It would take a full 4 years-plan to get everything working right on the civilian economy side, not that my country had anything going military wise. We were the so-called winners of the Great War, albeit by Woodrow Wilson's intervention, not by any heroic feat. In fact, Romania got pretty much squeezed into a small pocket by German, Austrian and Bulgarian armies once the Russians walked away from the war and into communism.

On the other hand, the newest Iron Legion actions in Transilvania meant that more and more empty farms and jobs were being opened for destitute Romanians from other regions, mostly from Moldova.
Sure, it would have been more civilized to export the Hungarians to Hungary and import whatever Romanians they had, but that option was not available, not historically nor in my game menu.

As for the Jewish problem, my official probing were rebuffed curtly, ironically and sardonically by the British, who seemed quite pleased to let millions of Jews get gassed in concentration camps. Already millions of Jews were starving to death in Ukraine and other parts of USSR, which lead me to create a Famine Society to try and help, mostly by extracting pretty Ukrainian women and some specialists in steel forging, engineering and such.

And if that meant that excess crops from the Romanian farms was sent to hungry Ukrainians, instead of being dumped in a ditch to raise prices, what can I do? Must have been luck.

Of course, the Soviet regime denied any famine was taking place, but they did grab the grain transports and allowed starving immigrants to embark from Odessa and Sevastopol, so nobody was fooled.

Then it hit me. I wasn't speaking with the right people. The big Jewish bankers and industrialists in Britain cared nothing about their poor co-nationals starving and risking Holocaust in Europe. They were the exact opposite of the people I needed to speak with. They were the kind of people to sell Adolf the Zyclon gas at a discount, just to grab more profits.

By the next month, a dozen big name Rabbis joined me in a secret conference to plan the establishment of Israel in Palestine, conveniently called the Zion Elders Protocol.
I generously asked for only a 30% fee of any asset transiting via Romanian ships, which raised eyebrows and blessings from the Elders, who probably expected full forfeiture of such.

"Make sure you fortify the Golan Heights and the Jordan River bank. Just a guess, but your new Arab neighbors might want to genocide you a few times. Don't come complaining when you're crucified, right?" I asked in a pleasant voice.

"King Carol, your generosity is already abundant, but perhaps some weapons to ensure the safety of our jewish nationals in this new Israel?" an old and shred rabbi asked while tugging his long beard.

"You realize Romania has basically no weapon industry? We still use Great War guns, or shovels. Mostly shovels." I said with a sad voice. Don't dismiss the shovel though, Romania won 3 great victories in WW1 using mostly shovels, Krieg style. Also Krieg style loses, so it wasn't great.

The man nodded and glanced at his Elders. "...But, if some blueprints and funds were made available, factories could be built and weapons produced, right? Perhaps you have heard of the American Thompson Gun? Or the M2 Browning machine gun?"

I sighed a bit disappointed. "Those are patented, and by Western companies. On the other hand, Soviet patents are not recognized, so..." I allowed with a grin.

"Mazel Tov!" The Rabbi saluted me with the same grin.

As expected, the Zion Elders did have access to a large network of informers, as well as hidden funds. The Carol Arms Company was funded and supplied with detailed schematics of Soviet pistols, rifles and machine-guns, even a 23mm twin-autocannon possibly intended for aircraft. It would work great (for tanks Pz 2-like, armored transports, static defense and even ship AAA, once I had ships, or even airplanes, if I ever had any)

With a generous export client already obtained, plus compulsory buy orders for the Romanian military, my arms company expanded in one year like others in decades, much to the chagrin of Soviet leaders. By 1931, CAC had 12000 workers in 4 factories.
Already knowing the future, I also set up a weapons manufacturing plant in Helsinki, Finland. If the Soviet spies stole the plans for the weapons, they would find them useless, since they already had these weapons in the Soviet inventory.

The Ukrainian Holdomor continued, at a slightly slower pace, but the famine was systemic not accidental. Kill or deport enough peasants and there would be nobody left to cultivate the land. I wasn't sure if the Soviets even knew what they were doing, since they seem mostly busy killing each other by the millions. They did have like 200 millions to kill, so it would take time.

As a bonus, the Soviet Jews were sometimes willing to sacrifice one of their own and inculpate dozens of Communist officials (mostly corrupt ones, but sometimes effective Commissars, officers and such), leading to more deaths and carnage among paranoiac communists.

And lastly, after a fake promise to consider an alliance, France did agree to sell me a few ships, including a submarine and a light cruiser.
Nothing that would stop a Soviet Navy bent on shore bombardment, but now we had ships to analyze and begin our own production. I wanted 50 subs by 1940, so it would take a lot of work, but it could be done. I even had a game menu telling me it would work.

If only my dick would stop hitting my chin every time I tried to write a letter.
 
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Hopefully this doesn't devolve into smut every other chapter like a certain grey wizard fic, maybe every two or three chapters ? Control yourself pef!!

This is HOI 4, the smut is about battlefield carnage and other stuff. However, it is possible that Carol II dick did prolong the Great Depression by a few years in Romania.
If anyone here has played HOI 4 as Romania, they would know why.
 
Lightspeed
The first Romanian tank to come off the fabrication line was named Ferdinand, after my father. Since the guy was rather shy and under the thumb of my royal mother, the name fit quite well.

It was a modified T-26 Soviet tank, with a larger turret and a twin 23mm autocannon, as well as two machine-guns. No radio, hydraulic suspensions, speed limiter, and other fancy stuff, but it did have a smoke launcher, a locomotive horn and headlight and a sniper scope for the cannon. Only 8x magnification, but I hoped technology would advance enough for my preferred 60x mag I used for my World of Tanks settings. Much easier to hit weak-spots that way.

And why a locomotive horn? Well, a tank commander couldn't climb out and shout orders, right?
As for headlight, well, one would need to shine a light to see what he shot at. Maybe blind the enemy too.

Luckily, the tank design we stole from the Soviets was quite rugged, allowing for easy winter use, and any likely terrain.

The first Armored Cavalry Division would need 400 such light tanks, which would take about a year to complete. Changing factory orders from tractors to tanks was easy, training workers to make them was a different thing. For support, I computed about 1000 trucks with infantry and 400 with fuel, ammo and other parts.
Just enough fuel to reach Budapest, in fact. How amusing.

I tried using my family connections in Britain to obtain some free weapon stuff, but they weren't very glad about me for some reason. Must have been a random luck thing, but the British did find out about the thousands of Jews being transported to Palestine, armed to teeth with CAC weaponry.

Oh well. To the French then!
They kept trying to create a Little Entente alliance with Cehia and Yugoslavia and such, as if that could work. The French were fucked, and they knew it.

But why not milk their advanced tech while I could?
And propose some immigration plans, for the French Levant, like exporting Turks into Turkey and importing Jews. At least the Jews were not Muslim, right?

With some unused Rabbi funds, and a bit of blackmail diplomacy, I was able to set up a French Palestine in the south of Levant, where more Jews could be happily 'deported'.
France was also rather anti-Semite at this time, so the opportunity to get rid of Jews and send them 'home' was seen as a win. Many poor Jews felt the same.

This adventure did net me 400 Renault F-17 tanks that the French kept since the Great War, just enough to train my first armored division, plus several planes and a small destroyer, one scheduled for a scrapyard in Indochina.
It really wasn't my fault the damn ship sank inside the locks of the Suez Canal, I swear! I wasn't even driving it that fast...not compared to a plane.

Luckily, being a King meant I wasn't arrested, detained or shot by the British. Just never allowed to pilot a warship again. Or so they think. I do have a submarine.

Anyways, I went to visit my unwilling friend, Mr Henri at the IAR airplane factory in Brasov, where his 27th jet plane project blew up for no reason.
I ignored the burning plane on the runway, and instead compared the jet schematics to my own modern (yet not detailed) knowledge.

"You tried using peroxide fuel again?" I asked with a smile. That thing was only good enough for torpedoes, which were meant to explode.

"Gasoline is not powerful enough!" Henri yelled with flair and drama.

"Of course it is. Might need some additives in the gasoline, and a better engine though. Don't worry, we have time. Only by 1939 do we need operational jet fighters." I continued in a calm voice.

Jet fighters would be nice, but radio finding and then radar were more important. We could never outproduce the USSR or Germany in fighter production, but radar guided guns would mince any enemy planes crossing our border.

Henri Coanda looked at me with a strange face, as if I said something out of this world. "You said passenger planes before."

"It is a dual-role industry, my friend. What do you think happens when a plane hits my palace at Mach 2?" I asked a bit rhetorical, and began drawing an ME 262 from memory. it wasn't a good plane, but it did work fine for its times.

Once finished with the German plane, I continued with a Mig-21 drawing, something I knew even better, since I seen and touched one before. No clue what the inside of the plane was, but then I wasn't an aircraft engineer.

Henri took my drawings and hid them in his safe, then shook his head. "Stop blowing my mind, your Majesty. Those planes look like something that would actually fly."

"I wonder if the shockwave of trans-sonic flight is similar to the same thing for trans-luminal speed. A light-cone I imagine, but how could I generate enough energy?" I mused to myself, and walked away, leaving the famous engineer confused, yet pondering deeply just like I intended. Give a man a fishrod, and he could fish for himself, right?

I did think sometimes of my predicament, being transported back in time, but in another body. Surely, a mind would have no mass at all, thus reducing the energy needed to accelerate it past the lightspeed barrier, and thus backwards in time. Still, a mind-state, even a limited human one like myself, would contain a shit-load of data, data that would be needed to function properly after transfer. Adding the HOI 4 interface to my new self was simply the cherry on top, barely a few gigabytes to whatever many exabytes a human mind required. Or perhaps the other way around, considering I could see the entire planet in my mind, in real time.

I drove the racing car to the railway station at modest speed, not even breaking the current world record for 1931.

Waiting in my railway car, Captain Codreanu had a thick file of enemies, needing my approval for elimination. Communists, spies, agitators, whatever foreign nationals or local minorities...you couldn't make a country-sized omelette without breaking a few eggs, or heads.

I took out a pencil, and began marking people for death, sometimes using my game menu to make sure I had the right guy.
V for vendetta, X for quiet death and 0 for Null. I didn't want all my enemies dead, after all. Some had their use, other were double agents and so on.

However, in general the choice was simple. Was the target loyal to King and Country? Was he useful in some way? Would his death cause me problems? Was he a potential problem later? Was he a current enemy?

The menu only flagged the first and last choices, thus for the rest I had to use my own cognizance or OOC knowledge.
Not that I cared much about those about to die, to be fair. At least 200 million people will die soon enough, most of them in Asia and USSR. Removing a few of them early, and smoothing my own path was necessary.

As for spies I knew about in other countries, Kim Philby for example, and some inside the Manhattan Project, I would reserve that for the right time. For example, the year 1939, late September. I did not want an alliance between UK and USSR. They would carve my country, and possibly my corpse between them.

Codreanu picked up the finished death list with reverence. "My King, what do we do about the Germans still living here?" he asked a bit hesitant.

I knew a good solution for that, used in my past. Nicolae Ceausescu sold the Germans living in Romania to West Germany, for about 4000 marks each. I was sure Adolf would buy proper Germans too. Maybe trade his Jews in turn? Anyway, a deal would be easy. I was a German King after a fashion.

"The Germans must return to Germany, of course. Who will fight the Soviets otherwise?" I asked the man in a knowing voice.

"Ah, you're waiting for the right moment. Very wise, my King." Codreanu said looking a bit awed, then took the file and walked away, already spreading signed death notes to his lieutenants waiting in the station.

I recognized Horia Sima among them, the man who would take over the Legion after Codreanu died. If he died in this timeline. I wasn't sure what do make of the man. On one hand, he was a fanatic, and those were dangerous. On the other hand, someone will be needed to hold Moldova for me, when the Soviets came. And they will. They always do.
 
HOI 4 is hearts of iron 4 correct?

I haven't played any of them, so how much knowledge do we need to know for this story?
HOI4 is like an rts with heavy influence from history.... untill the point that you conquer italy with albania or something equally ridiculous. so i would say not much is needed since its all basic history.
 
Carol was the absolute worst the amount of spending ingame of civil factorys was brutal on the Romanian economy.
 
The first Romanian tank to come off the fabrication line was named Ferdinand, after my father. Since the guy was rather shy and under the thumb of my royal mother, the name fit quite well.

It was a modified T-26 Soviet tank, with a larger turret and a twin 23mm autocannon, as well as two machine-guns. No radio, hydraulic suspensions, speed limiter, and other fancy stuff, but it did have a smoke launcher, a locomotive horn and headlight and a sniper scope for the cannon. Only 8x magnification, but I hoped technology would advance enough for my preferred 60x mag I used for my World of Tanks settings. Much easier to hit weak-spots that way.

And why a locomotive horn? Well, a tank commander couldn't climb out and shout orders, right?
As for headlight, well, one would need to shine a light to see what he shot at. Maybe blind the enemy too.

Luckily, the tank design we stole from the Soviets was quite rugged, allowing for easy winter use, and any likely terrain.

The first Armored Cavalry Division would need 400 such light tanks, which would take about a year to complete. Changing factory orders from tractors to tanks was easy, training workers to make them was a different thing. For support, I computed about 1000 trucks with infantry and 400 with fuel, ammo and other parts.
Just enough fuel to reach Budapest, in fact. How amusing.

I tried using my family connections in Britain to obtain some free weapon stuff, but they weren't very glad about me for some reason. Must have been a random luck thing, but the British did find out about the thousands of Jews being transported to Palestine, armed to teeth with CAC weaponry.

Oh well. To the French then!
They kept trying to create a Little Entente alliance with Cehia and Yugoslavia and such, as if that could work. The French were fucked, and they knew it.

But why not milk their advanced tech while I could?
And propose some immigration plans, for the French Levant, like exporting Turks into Turkey and importing Jews. At least the Jews were not Muslim, right?

With some unused Rabbi funds, and a bit of blackmail diplomacy, I was able to set up a French Palestine in the south of Levant, where more Jews could be happily 'deported'.
France was also rather anti-Semite at this time, so the opportunity to get rid of Jews and send them 'home' was seen as a win. Many poor Jews felt the same.

This adventure did net me 400 Renault F-17 tanks that the French kept since the Great War, just enough to train my first armored division, plus several planes and a small destroyer, one scheduled for a scrapyard in Indochina.
It really wasn't my fault the damn ship sank inside the locks of the Suez Canal, I swear! I wasn't even driving it that fast...not compared to a plane.

Luckily, being a King meant I wasn't arrested, detained or shot by the British. Just never allowed to pilot a warship again. Or so they think. I do have a submarine.

Anyways, I went to visit my unwilling friend, Mr Henri at the IAR airplane factory in Brasov, where his 27th jet plane project blew up for no reason.
I ignored the burning plane on the runway, and instead compared the jet schematics to my own modern (yet not detailed) knowledge.

"You tried using peroxide fuel again?" I asked with a smile. That thing was only good enough for torpedoes, which were meant to explode.

"Gasoline is not powerful enough!" Henri yelled with flair and drama.

"Of course it is. Might need some additives in the gasoline, and a better engine though. Don't worry, we have time. Only by 1939 do we need operational jet fighters." I continued in a calm voice.

Jet fighters would be nice, but radio finding and then radar were more important. We could never outproduce the USSR or Germany in fighter production, but radar guided guns would mince any enemy planes crossing our border.

Henri Coanda looked at me with a strange face, as if I said something out of this world. "You said passenger planes before."

"It is a dual-role industry, my friend. What do you think happens when a plane hits my palace at Mach 2?" I asked a bit rhetorical, and began drawing an ME 262 from memory. it wasn't a good plane, but it did work fine for its times.

Once finished with the German plane, I continued with a Mig-21 drawing, something I knew even better, since I seen and touched one before. No clue what the inside of the plane was, but then I wasn't an aircraft engineer.

Henri took my drawings and hid them in his safe, then shook his head. "Stop blowing my mind, your Majesty. Those planes look like something that would actually fly."

"I wonder if the shockwave of trans-sonic flight is similar to the same thing for trans-luminal speed. A light-cone I imagine, but how could I generate enough energy?" I mused to myself, and walked away, leaving the famous engineer confused, yet pondering deeply just like I intended. Give a man a fishrod, and he could fish for himself, right?

I did think sometimes of my predicament, being transported back in time, but in another body. Surely, a mind would have no mass at all, thus reducing the energy needed to accelerate it past the lightspeed barrier, and thus backwards in time. Still, a mind-state, even a limited human one like myself, would contain a shit-load of data, data that would be needed to function properly after transfer. Adding the HOI 4 interface to my new self was simply the cherry on top, barely a few gigabytes to whatever many exabytes a human mind required. Or perhaps the other way around, considering I could see the entire planet in my mind, in real time.

I drove the racing car to the railway station at modest speed, not even breaking the current world record for 1931.

Waiting in my railway car, Captain Codreanu had a thick file of enemies, needing my approval for elimination. Communists, spies, agitators, whatever foreign nationals or local minorities...you couldn't make a country-sized omelette without breaking a few eggs, or heads.

I took out a pencil, and began marking people for death, sometimes using my game menu to make sure I had the right guy.
V for vendetta, X for quiet death and 0 for Null. I didn't want all my enemies dead, after all. Some had their use, other were double agents and so on.

However, in general the choice was simple. Was the target loyal to King and Country? Was he useful in some way? Would his death cause me problems? Was he a potential problem later? Was he a current enemy?

The menu only flagged the first and last choices, thus for the rest I had to use my own cognizance or OOC knowledge.
Not that I cared much about those about to die, to be fair. At least 200 million people will die soon enough, most of them in Asia and USSR. Removing a few of them early, and smoothing my own path was necessary.

As for spies I knew about in other countries, Kim Philby for example, and some inside the Manhattan Project, I would reserve that for the right time. For example, the year 1939, late September. I did not want an alliance between UK and USSR. They would carve my country, and possibly my corpse between them.

Codreanu picked up the finished death list with reverence. "My King, what do we do about the Germans still living here?" he asked a bit hesitant.

I knew a good solution for that, used in my past. Nicolae Ceausescu sold the Germans living in Romania to West Germany, for about 4000 marks each. I was sure Adolf would buy proper Germans too. Maybe trade his Jews in turn? Anyway, a deal would be easy. I was a German King after a fashion.

"The Germans must return to Germany, of course. Who will fight the Soviets otherwise?" I asked the man in a knowing voice.

"Ah, you're waiting for the right moment. Very wise, my King." Codreanu said looking a bit awed, then took the file and walked away, already spreading signed death notes to his lieutenants waiting in the station.

I recognized Horia Sima among them, the man who would take over the Legion after Codreanu died. If he died in this timeline. I wasn't sure what do make of the man. On one hand, he was a fanatic, and those were dangerous. On the other hand, someone will be needed to hold Moldova for me, when the Soviets came. And they will. They always do.
I think you meant to threadmark this
 
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Hey Pef, ya know what's the best part of playing Romania, and what you get if you don't play it?

Do ya?
 
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Considering the author… can't wait to see how insane this goes bet this ends up being fallout earth or some other insanity. I expect a moon base palace by 1985!. Watched.
 
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Death worship
By the turn of 1932, the Great Depression began to mellow down, and Coanda's first plane flew, after a fashion.

It flew straight up, ran out of oxygen, the pilot fainted or something, and then the plane flew down again, breaking the sound barrier before it crashed. Filming the event and then going over the last few frames did prove a cone shockwave forming at trans-sonic speed, which probably blew the mind of any aircraft engineer, and certainly the pilot himself.

We did find his ring finger, and sent it to his wife, with the melted ring still on it. The man died for science, after all.

"You're thinking again about planes crashing into your palace, right?" Henri asked me as we drank something in honor of our tragic success.

"Not really. Still, maybe some 50 brave pilots, and I could be rid of the Soviet Navy in the Black Sea. I'll have to ask around." I mused to myself, mostly.

The Archangels of the Legion would be useful for a kamikaze run. They would even be grateful.
Maybe pilot guided torpedoes too? The Japanese did have some good ideas about using death-wishing soldiers.

Henri measured me with a wary look, then chuckled. "I don't think you'll find any volunteer for such a task. Anyways, with extra fuel tanks, even a propeller plane could reach Sevastopol and launch a torpedo."

I nodded wisely. That would work too, just like Taranto. Maybe the second wave should be kamikaze clean up. In case there were any ships not exploded.
"One day, we could send an unmanned plane from here to Russia and have it just crash into Kremlin. Will need better radio direction, and something to recognize the target from a photograph. Winds and pressure changes at this distance will make programmed flights quite random."

Henri coughed and sipped some more champagne. "One day, huh? What, a thousand years from now?" he asked in disbelief.

"It's been 20 years since the first plane flew over here. In 20 more years, we will reach orbit. Then the Moon, 20 years after. Maybe even sooner. It's barely 300 thousands kilometers away." I answered with a wry grin.

"They won't let you drive that plane. You'd be too old." Henri countered with a smile.

"I think a rocket of sorts. There is no air out there. Nothing to combine with the fuel..." I mused with a longing voice towards the sky.

Henri nodded sad. "Of course. For a silly King doing silly things, you do have a bit of knowledge about flight."

"Perhaps some 50 rapid autocannons instead of a rocket engine. The recoil would propel the ship out the gravity well either way, if it could carry enough ammo. Even to the Moon and back." I added for no reason. It would work, as a science project. Probably kill the pilot from the recoil too.

Henri took his notebook and began computing the required forces. Took him like two hours and another bottle, but he marked the last number with a V.
"Newton would turn in his grave and fling 3 million apples at your head for this idea, my silly King. But it would work."

I smiled wolfishly. "Now imagine a plane gun firing just enough ammo that its recoil is exactly the reverse of its engine thrust. They would cancel out, right?" I said with a nod towards his notebook.

The man just threw his notebook away. "Go home, your Majesty. And buy a few more mechanical calculators. I want to build a twin-engine plane next time." he demanded in a tired voice.

"Incremental progress is good, but 8 engines would work better. Twin-nacelle engines, two under each wing?" I yelled as I left his workshop. A bottle flew towards my head, luckily empty.

I left Brasov and headed towards Mangalia, the Royal Navy's military port to the Black Sea. Here, we were building two updated Turbinia class corvettes, to be later equipped with peroxide fuel torpedoes. A single triple torpedo launcher, at the ship's bow.

I wanted the ships to be the fastest in the world, like any proper Accelerationist.
My whole life was about speed, drinks and women, might as well make the best of it. My first jet plane did already break the sound barrier, and the Craiova car factory was trying to mate a race car with an (almost) reliable jet engine. I was certain it would break any land speed record on the first try, and possibly explode soon after.

I was so lucky Codreanu kept finding men willing to die for King, Country and Science.

The IAR factory had 100 such men lined up to be test pilots, and possibly kamikaze heroes once we had a decent plane.

I called their unit Sentinels, for they were the first line of defense for the Great Romania I ruled over.

The Royal Dictatorship came about rather smoothly in this timeline, since I wasn't the same man, wasting the public budget on lavish parties or expensive villas in France and Switzerland. My factories actually made a good profit, even with the royal workers being paid twice the normal salary, plus bonuses for extra hours, extra quality or more products like guns, tractors and tanks.

Truly, I was blessed by the friendship of the Zion's Mossad, as those guys managed to steal secrets, schematics and even codebooks from nearly all over the globe.
Sure, some of these secrets were actually simply proximity opportunities, like grabbing a rare book from a library or weapon's manual and things like that.

Other things were far more secret, like investments in companies abroad to gain access to restricted patents, trade secrets, bank accounts and rare resources.

The Mossad network kept 70% of the gains and dutifully delivered 30% into my hands, or rather my delegated household people, and also kept an eye on them for me, should they steal what was rightfully mine.

Reading Adolf's erratic speeches about a Zionist conspiracy taking over the world, I could only smile under my dashing mustache. He was wrong, but quite close too, to the new truth.
There was a conspiracy involving jews out to get him now, only I was in charge of it.

The big Jewish bankers in America and Britain had their chance when I offered them my hand, and they refused. Now they would be left out of the pizza shares, when it will be time for the final cut.

Steadily buying land in Venezuela for example, where my game map showed large oil reserves. Aluminum deposits in Suriname, lithium, cobalt and molybdenum in Central Africa. Cheap as grass, although sometimes needing target removal from the New World Order. It would take a decade to match the Rockefeller family, but I had time.
Plus, the King position was not really elective. I could quit, just like my body did before, but only if and when I wanted to.

As for Michael, and my first son Mircea Lambrino, I had other countries they could be kings over. Bulgaria and Hungary, for example.
The Balkan Dominance still remained the best option in my game menu, even if it did require a large standing army and at least one armored division.
However, peasants loved me to death these days, and they would gladly answer the call when it was time for recruitment. I would need half a million shovels just to keep them in trenches though, and just as many to bury them, if they didn't have the rest of needed equipment, like guns, ammo, rations, uniforms, winter coats, tents and such.

My game menu could easily calculate the needed equipment, and how long it would take to produce: 3.6 years, if I started right now. Possibly early 1936 then, after division training.
Just right to match the classic HOI 4 campaign, which was a likely loss on Elite difficulty. It seemed the game was going to play without me if I didn't make a push.

No. In two years I would have two armored divisions, and be able to strike Hungary from north and south at the same time. Perhaps some planes?

I called a General Staff meeting, and simply explained my position to the gathered Generals. "Hungary, your Majesty?"

"Exactly. They have a large minority in our country, which is already causing strife. And they prefer not to call their people home, as to gain a claim on our sacred soil, should any Great Power support such a claim in the future. Most likely Germany." I explained in a calm voice. The dozens of medals, ribbons and chains on my chest made me quite hot, and my arm-sized steel-hard dick was depleting my brain of blood. Not an ideal circumstance, but I forged on.

"And after we 'puppet' them, what next?" General Antonescu asked in a logical voice.

"After that, my son Michael will become their lawful King, under Price Nicolae's Regency. And we get to export the Hungarians from Romania back home. It would be more merciful than allowing the Holy Legion to massacre them all." I added with a tiny shrug. Most of the intellectual Hungarians had already died anyways, as to prevent an organized resistance, but Codreanu was a fanatic and would kill everyone else just to make a point.

"Perhaps you shouldn't tolerate the Archangel's Legion anymore, your Majesty. The army can take care of them for you..." Antonescu proposed in a blood-thirsty voice. Exactly like he did in the first timeline, when he ordered the army to kill every Legion member.

"Why would I allow loyal Romanians to kill each other, especially over disloyal Hungarians? Can you find a thousand men willing to climb into a torpedo and drive towards a Soviet battleship, General?" I countered with a harsher voice.

The man halted in surprise, then smiled. "You are right, your Majesty. I was too hasty. Loyal men willing to die for their King and Country should not be wasted."

The other Generals got the hint and nodded as well. We could use the death-worshipers far better, against a true enemy.
 
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His description of his penis is… eww did inbred royals actually have that problem? Wouldn't that kill you?

this all kind of reminds me of my first play through of stellaris, find a dead race who left there DNA behind and end up being them back to life, then while looking at a spreadsheet end up killing a couple million people before you realize what your done lol.
 
Petain
Normally, shipborne artillery was unsuited for land use, being heavy and such.

But the French had an amazing 65mm gun used to shot at torpedo boats and other fast targets, and the Network also provided me with its design schematics.
Sadly, the gun itself was patented, even if I did have samples of the 65mm gun on board the flagship of the navy, the French light cruiser I had bought a year ago and which did lots of training exercises up and down the Danube.

Thus, when several French Generals were asked to visit and advise on our the Dacian Wall, along the Soviet border, they possibly imagined a Maginot Line, not a big ditch with a few pillboxes on top.

"This will barely slow the Soviet Army for a day, maybe not even that." a grumpy General Petain muttered in disgust.

I nodded and waved the rest of his staff into my command tent, and opened a folder to show off the Romanian Hetzer , called Wolf. Sure, using the T-26 drive train and chassis meant that barely 40 mm of frontal armor could be installed before the entire thing collapsed under its own gravity, but giving the front plate an angle of 65 degrees meant that the armor would withstand even the new 47 mm anti-tank weapons getting fielded by France, not to mention the usual 37 mm guns.

"My royal engineers have analyzed the 65 mm guns on the flagship, and want to install the same gun on the Wolf assault tank. They even say it would butcher enemy Soviets with ease, especially if backed up by machine-gun pillboxes." I explained with a careless voice.

The French officers glanced at each other, then looked at their leader. "You want us to approve a license transfer, your Majesty? It is not in our power."

I shrugged. My game menu said their opinion mattered, and I trusted my menu more. "And the same thing for the 155 mm turrets from the cruiser. Sink the turrets into the top of the wall, build a concrete bunker over it to prevent aerial bombing or counter-fire from Soviet artillery."

The big artillery bunkers were not feasible in large numbers, given the expense of an entire ship turret being built, moved and then buried in concrete, but it would work in key places like Cetatea Alba at the Black Sea, the Dniester crossings along the Moldavia's border and Hotin in Bukovina.

General Petain took my idea and ran with it. I knew he was a big fan of static defence, since the horrors of the Great War had imprinted into his mind.

"Expensive, but it would work. How many 155 mm guns would you need to guard the Soviet border, your Majesty?" he asked in a curious voice.

"At least 60, but better make it 100. Cetatea Alba would be exposed to the Soviet Black Sea Navy using their big battleships to shell the fortifications from beyond the horizon. And to counter that, I would need the big 15 inch guns, at least 6 of them in similar bunkers." I offered with a sad smile.

Petain sighed. "I don't see a way to obtain 15 inch guns, your Majesty. They are considered strategic weapons by every Great Power. Perhaps a few 12 inch guns from a scrapped dreadnought? Or perhaps tow the entire thing to Constanta and take off the entire turrets." he proposed in a logical tone.

I smiled inward, as the man basically played himself. "Well, you are correct, mon General. If France ever wants to scrap a dreadnought, I will be happy to buy it at twice the normal price. Even more of them. Constanta itself needs a few coastal forts, and perhaps a few in Southern Dobruja at the border with Bulgaria?" I wondered a bit rhetorical.

Petain measured me, and then the map laid out on the table. "I don't envy your position, your Majesty. We also have a border with Germany, but your Soviet, Bulgarian and Hungarian borders are far too long. If it comes to the same thing like 1917, your country is doomed, again. "

"Then I must make sure I only fight on a single front. Your advice is priceless, mon General. I do hope you will support Romania when the time comes. We are both the scions of Rome, are we not?" I asked with a sad voice, then raised a finger for my butlers to serve more champagne.

I already had the old 12 inch gun plans, including the range finders, munitions and loading lifts. Once the French sold me even one old dreadnought, the Galati steel plant could start churning new guns, enough to equip 100 mega-bunkers on the Soviet border. Spread them out evenly at 10 kilometers range, and 100 such guns could cover the entire front with high-explosive 1 ton shells. Why bother to build bombers, if the enemy had to step inside the gun range to assault our Dacian Wall?

I handed the good General the extra schematics for the Wolf tank destroyer. "It a deal then?" I asked as he rose to his feet.

"I will do my best, King Carol. Your Wolf tank would be quite amazing, if it works. But even if it doesn't please the French Government, I will make sure to build 1000 Wolves for you. Maybe even find some better scopes for long range fire." General Petain allowed as he stashed the priceless plans inside his briefcase.

I shook his hand, then watched the man go, along with his staff. He was quite a tragic person, General Petain. Well-meaning, but misguided and lacking a HOI 4 interface.
Not that you needed an interface to anticipate the Belgian attack, but hey. History is written by the victors.

I raised my hand in salute, and 400 F-17 tanks fired their guns in the air, signalling the training of my first armor division was almost over. Next, the tank crews and the mechanics would travel to Arad in the West, and take charge of their Ferdinand tanks, and begin training beside the motorized infantry and their trucks.

We couldn't fail the thrust to Budapest, so everything had to go almost perfectly.

Now, where could I find some planes?
 
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His description of his penis is… eww did inbred royals actually have that problem? Wouldn't that kill you?

this all kind of reminds me of my first play through of stellaris, find a dead race who left there DNA behind and end up being them back to life, then while looking at a spreadsheet end up killing a couple million people before you realize what your done lol.
Yeah, when working with astronomical numbers even a rounding error on the ninth decimal place would create a lot of dead.
 
Early war
By the time 1933 came about, the second armored division finished training as well, and then departed for Oradea on the North-west to take charge of their new Ferdinand tanks, and trucks and so on.

Being a wise gamer myself, I did also create a mobile anti-air company for the armored divisions, 100 trucks with 23 mm autocannons on a flatbed, then also combat engineers, to lay pontoon bridges and fill up ditches, a maintance company to keep the division going and even a signal company dealing with radios, couriers, recon and other boring stuff.

The signal company was barely +20 initiative bonus in my game menu, radios in 1932 being rather crap and so on. But considering the French were still using messenger pigeons and signal flags for their tanks, I was still better.

By this time, Codreanu and his Legion of murderous Angels had almost cleaned up two entire counties, Brasov and Cluj, leaving behind a mess of assassinations, arsons and such.
Nothing special for Europe at this time, and wouldn't compare to the Crystal Night in Germany.

Cluj Napoca itself was quite important for its high level of education, meaning that advanced tech could be researched and produced here, everything from radios, encrypted telegraphs, early radio finding, even some prototype television tubes. Calling the place an Electronics Research Center was a bit much, but the game wanted one. So now we had one.

Constanta hosted a sonar and various other naval tech research centers, from dual-purpose guns able to shoot at aircraft and ships, to torpedoes and better engines.
Radar was not on the menu yet, but several tall towers along the coast could provide a few hints of things moving beyond the horizon.

Bucharest hosted a bunch more research centers, mostly for guns, machine-guns, artillery and tanks, while Brasov hosted the IAR plant for aircraft testing and tentative manufacturing. The Dutch company Fokker had been in a bind on the global market after one of its passenger planes crashed in America, and now a Fokker plant was being built at Brasov in order to provide 500 planes for the Romanian Air Force. They weren't Fokker_D.XXI yet, but any plane was better than no plane at all.

However, barely a month later, the Romanian Army mobilized partially, drawing 500 thousand soldiers into its ranks, and about 200 thousand women for supports roles like cooks, washing, medical services and so on. Using women was frowned upon in these times, even for non-combat roles, but it made more sense to pay women to do the easy jobs, than waste combat able soldiers for potato peeling and other such tasks.

Two months later, after the peasants received their guns and learned how to look menacing with them, Romania went to war again.
No allies, no fancy treaties, no bombastic declarations...well maybe a bit of the latter.

We did have a purpose in this war after all, and not just mindless slaughter. The Romanians living inside Hungary were being oppressed, and denied their basic rights like being named like a Romanian, speaking Romanian, going to Romanian schools and churches and so on.

With two armored divisions cutting through the feeble border defences, and the bulk of the army spreading out after them a bit more sedately, being on foot and using horse carts for logistics, the war barely lasted a month. Sure, 50% of the tanks broke down on the way to Budapest, as did 20% of trucks and planes, but it was never a question about being able to beat up Hungary, being 4 times smaller and less populated, plus much less armed.

We even managed to trap several Hungarian divisions in a northern pocket, their backs agaisnt the hostile Slovakian border, allowing the Romanian Army to capture 50000 soldiers and their equipment mostly intact.

The only question was doing it quickly enough, that the Great Powers couldn't meet and decide what to do. Luckily we had an isolationist America, a hated-by-everyone Soviet Union and a friendly France, while Germany and Britain couldn't see eye to eye anyways.

Japan and Italy were non-factors for now, being too weak or otherwise ignored on the big players map.

Observers from France, Britain and Germany were invited post-fact to see what we were doing in occupied Hungary, meaning mostly rebuilding Romanian villages and towns, while exporting Hungarians back to their (now smaller) homeland.

Seeing as Hungary was mostly open plains and lakes, we established the new Romanian border on the Tisa River, while evicting non-Romanian people from our new lands.
And if a million gypsies and other undesirables also got evicted into the Hungarian Regency, it was better than having them burned alive by the Archangel's Legion, right?
A few bits in the North and South of former Hungary were also split off and bound to Romania proper, for historical, demographic or strategic reasons.

From the army, 20 infantry divisions remained in occupied Hungary while 10 of the damaged units were demobilized and sent home, while the best performing 20 divisions still left were re-deployed on the Bulgarian border.

Another 'puppeting' would require some rest and more tanks for the armored divisions, plus gathering more support internally and externally.
However, only 200 Wolf tank destroyers arrived from France before their government changed stance and out right denied us more armament imports, same as Britain and Germany.
Luckily, and perhaps wisely for us, I did wait until the derelict french dreadnought crash-landed in Constanta's port.

Not only the battleship's steel, but a lot of the technology present on the ship was still valuable, from range finders, optical telescopes, search-lights, under-water torpedo tubes and so on. The French did remove the more valuable radio finding and firing control calculators, but they forgot about the spares locked in a storage room, just like the Mossad network assured me they would.

The loot was divided among research centers, boosting our tech research by a decade at least. And of course, guns began to be poured down at Galati using the free steel, while the dreadnought's turrets were split up into three coastal forts along the Black Sea.
We also had designs and samples stolen from the Soviets, but those were rather trash compared to the first class naval tech of the French.

In Hungary, their vast aluminum deposits were already confiscated and put to use for various purposes, from making light canteens, spoons and splinter-proof vests for the army, to aircraft production and light boats. The total cost of the Hungarian war did reach 100 million dollars, a giant sum for this time, but I was also selling oil from Venezuela to the British and the French, so it kinda balanced out.

The world was not prepared for a rapid armored attack, even if only equipped with light tanks and trucks. I knew the Great Powers would become very interested in how we achieved our great victory so fast, even agaisnt a modest army like Hungary's.
 
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Well, this was fun. As long as it doesn't turn into a straight-up porno with a little bit of plot like its predecessor, I'd probably be able to enjoy it.
 
There's some pretty wack mods in HOI.
GLORY TO FEMBAVARIA!!
"OwO? *notices king Carol's bulge* iz diz for me?" - famous first words uttered by diplomatic envoy of Fembavaria Felix von Wittenbach towards King Carol of Romania... They where not seen until 1200 o'clock of the next day.
Well, this was fun. As long as it doesn't turn into a straight-up porno with a little bit of plot like its predecessor, I'd probably be able to enjoy it.
I don't get it. Ppl keep saying this, but this story is in SFW for fucks sake! How the heck could Pef do a porno here??
 
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GLORY TO FEMBAVARIA!!
"OwO? *notices king Carol's bulge* iz diz for me?" - famous first words uttered by diplomatic envoy of Fembavaria Felix von Wittenbach towards King Carol of Romania... They where not seen until 1200 o'clock of the next day.

I don't get it. Ppl keep saying this, but this story is in SFW for fucks sake! How the heck could Pef do a porno here??
By having the thread moved.
 
Mare Nostrum
While the same trick would work for Bulgaria, the rest of the world would consider it aggressive expansion, especially if we also annexed the Black Sea littoral as planned, and the fertile Danube plain as well.

South of Romania there were fewer Romanians still alive, but plenty of Aromanians, desperately trying to hang on their language, traditions and sometimes religion.

However, I did have a Greek wife, who was also the daughter of the Greek King. And this marriage was proposed and accepted on the basis of an alliance versus Bulgaria, and perhaps Serbia.

Meeting with both of my wives was a bit awkward at first, since Zizi Lambrino wasn't well-liked in my Royal Household for some reason. But needs must and all.

"Mircea, you are my son. And you also deserve to be King." I spoke in a friendly tone, and patted my firstborn boy on his shoulder. He did look more normal the the other one, since he wasn't procreated with a cousin like Helen of Greece.

Zizi perked up at the news, while Helen frowned. "What country?" she asked in a glacial voice.

"Bulgaria, of course. However, I will need Greece to mobilize and step a kilometer North with their army, or there will be no pie sharing with Greece otherwise." I demanded with a cold voice as well.

"Black Sea access?" Helen asked in a cunning voice.

"For that, the Greek Army would need to take Sofia by themselves. If they do that, no problem. But otherwise..." I answered with a shrug. The Greek Army was far worse than my own army, having no tanks or airplanes, but they did have a decent fleet.

Three months later, Greece mobilized and manned their Northern border with Bulgaria, forcing half of the Bulgarian army to forcefully redeploy to match the Greeks.
Not so fun being squashed between two enemies now, Bulgaria?

The third armor division was still in training and using the old French F-17 tanks, but they were enough to slowly push along the shore towards Varna and Burgas, while backed by several infantry divisions. The F-17 might be old and slow, but they only had to keep pace with foot infantry so it kinda worked.

Meanwhile, the main armor push came across the Danube under our fleet's protective guns, with floating pontoon bridges and two armored divisions covered by airplanes.

Barely a third of the Bulgarian Army was available to fight our armored divisions, and they were promptly encircled and left in the care of the follow-up infantry divisions.

Two extra motorized divisions followed after the tanks, in their rush towards Sofia, and while lacking tanks they still had truck-towed artillery and anti-air.

The Bulgarian lightning war lasted 7 days only, although we cheated by using the Greeks as a decoy. But still, we will write the history afterwards, so it was fine.

The first flying ace was born in this war while covering the Danube crossing, while several Legion flyers sacrificed themselves to cripple the Bulgarian Navy, small as it was. It turns out, a 12 inch shell with wings and a pilot can do a lot of damage. Who knew, right?

The dead kamikaze were promptly Sanctified as Angels of the Legion, and their families were given a post-mortem medal called Legion of Merit with Angel Wings.
People loved it too, making a big show in newspapers and speeches about our holy clay and the blood of martyrs.

And I think Zizi might be pregnant again, she was quite happy to see me again, especially after our son became King.

The Greeks were not too pleased since the price of one mile was 50000 dead and the ire of the British, but what can I do? I only asked for one kilometer, nobody forced them to walk more. At this time, their government was still a republic, since they blamed the monarchy for their loss in the Turk-Greek war of 1922.

I had an opportunity now, being a King myself and not a loser like their former King.
Making war upon Greece was possible, I even had a game tab for it, but it would be difficult to argue for it, since the players of the Great Game were not AI sub-routines, but real people.

However, I could become their King, since my wife was Greek and the daughter of their former King. And I was a victorious King too. That mattered a lot.

Setting the Network on the task, to obtain support for a Romanian King of Greece that is, and promising them Albania and Constantinople.

I turned my attention to the research again.
While a bit earlier than in the former timeline, the IAR plant began making (crappy) propeller fighters, while the Fokker plant nearby produced the first real plane, even sooner than the BF 109.

Better cameras and even color movies could be obtained, and an early radar model was installed on the flagship of the navy for field studies.
The first submarine we build sank a week later, so it wasn't all good.

The further work on the Dacian Wall along the Dniester continued as planned, basically one level of fort per year. Once we reached level 10, and Tier 5 Anti-Air defense, I could spit at the Soviets and dare them to come.

Czechoslovakia was getting a bit scared of Germany by now, and building their own version of a fortress wall towards the West. And ignoring the border towards Hungary for some reason. Oh well, I was allowed an easy win sometimes, right?

As for Yugoslavia, they were being eyed by all the powers in the region, mostly by Italy though.
Their armed force were kinda crap, and they had a lot of internal problems with numerous enemy ethnicities, including some Hungarians in Voivodina and Romanians along the Danube and Timoc Valley. Yeah, Yugoslavia was a fake and failed state, and was doomed to shatter sooner or later. Might as well give it a push myself.

By the time Bulgaria was fully occupied and pacified, Greece wisely decided to throw in with the Ever-Victorious King, and nominated me as their ruler.
It helped I was an Orthodox King too, something rather rare after the Romanovs got whacked by the communists.

Taking Albania didn't take a large war, basically pushing the nearest divisions to the Adriatic Sea at a walk, and being cheered as the second coming of Alexander the Great by the locals. Italy was furious, of course, but I couldn't care less. Albania made silk, and that was quite a bonus.

Before Britain could get too angry and send a fleet to the Adriatic, I decided to pacify the Italians by offering to share Yugoslavia with them. That seemed to work.

Three months later, Italian, Greek, Bulgarian, Hungarian and Romanian troops invaded from all sides, each with the promise of more clay for blood.

Turns out, taking Belgrade and Nis and a few big cities was not enough to make Yugoslavia quit. I should have known better, Elite difficulty wasn't that easy.
Luckily, there were plenty of Bulgarian and Hungarian soldiers to take the brunt of the guerilla fighting, while the Greeks bogged down in Muntenegro and the Italians almost got thrown into the sea before their fleet arrived to bombard the enemy.

While the war ragged on, the Iron Legion marched into the occupied lands to pacify the rebels, being seen as Angels by Romanians and as Devils by everyone else.
Nothing that wouldn't happen anyways, sooner or later.

About a year later, and a million dead, Yugoslavia was basically a ruin and my army was out of tanks and trucks.
But hey, at least Romania was bigger now, and we had 5 more puppets in the Balkans: Serbia, Montenegro, Bosnia(with Dubrovnik), Albania (with Kosovo) and Voivodina.

The Italians would regret not forming Slovenia and Croatia as puppets though. While the guns fell silent in our lands, the Italians are still fighting for their Mare Nostrum dream.
 
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Before the age of the internet and camera history was what ever the last man standing said it was, and even today were never sure what's actually happening.

what's he's actual end goal here because his county going to end up looking more are more of a threat as time goes on. This time period in general is crazy as fuck today in the first world if 100 men die in one battle it would be considered a catastrophe and have massive consequences, either a bunch of generals would be retired or billions in air stokes would follow. In WW2 the number of people that died was nuts.

how far does the tech tree go in hearts of iron I've never played it?
 
Fur
The nicest thing about the year 1934? Of course, it was the Soviet T-34 tank which just got invented and promptly stolen by the Network.

Sure, this was not the nice T-34-85 that won the war in the other timeline, but anything was better than no tanks at all. We did lose all tanks in Yugoslavia, and the old F-17s were scraped while the turrets were used for pillboxes.

A single Ferdinand tank line still worked full time to provide cheap training tanks and a few more for armored recon and such boring roles. The new Ferdinands were slightly improved by now, with 25 mm of armor and speed limiters to increase their lifetime.

We called the new T-34 tank the Grey Wolf, being painted grey and a few white teeth on the lower plate to act as wire cutters.
Some crews went further to paint red eyes and such, on their vehicles, but it was not required. We did have the nice French 65 mm gun to mount in the turret, and the front armor was also increased to 65mm at 65 degrees angle, making it immune to anything the Soviets had now, or in the near future.

The Dacian Wall continued to grow, gaining a second line of defense and more anti-air guns, plus a network of trenches and supply bunkers.
A small fort line also began to appear on the Austrian, Polish and Slovak border, merely a trenchline and a few pillboxes for now.

It wouldn't do if we appear to not defend agaisnt someone, right? It would be quite rude, and perhaps provoke an attack with our openness.

Several Soviet planes tried to flyby over the Dacian Wall and were shot down, causing a minor scuffle with the Soviets, but whatever. They wouldn't survey our defences if they weren't planning to attack, right?

In Germany, Adolf was fuming and sputtering like usual, since the world around him was changing without anyone asking him.
In USSR, Papa Stalin was working hard to take over the Communist Party and the country, mostly by murdering anyone who opposed him.

America was sleeping quietly on the sounds of jazz music, while the British began to have lots of problems in the Middle East, caused by excessive numbers of Jews coming to settle without permission.

I did propose via my British mother an independent Israel state, but I was talking to walls or something.
Oh well, my merchant fleet had grown to include Bulgarian, Greek, Albanian and Montenegrin ships, and happily exporting more well-armed Jews into Palestine from all over Europe.

And while the Ferdinand 2 tanks were kinda crap, the Jews still loved them since they were better than nothing. Not that you actually needed tanks to mow down peasant Arabs, but whatever. They will need plenty of tanks eventually, might as well get trained on tanks and pay me a premium for it.

In Ukraine, people were still starving, which meant I could still export the excess grain and gain various immigrants in return, including skinny women, technical specialists, former farmers and the odd spy. Most of the spies I simply detected by reading the immigrant lists and noting who was a certain enemy, then pointing them to the good Captain for intensive interrogation.

The fleeing Soviet Jews didn't even leave the transport ships, getting sent via the Bosporus towards Palestine, unless they had a secret file or such to leave at the Constanta office of the Siguranta Statului Service. In which case they departed by train to Salonic and then boarded another ship, a bit richer too, depending on the file contents.

My official uniform had began to wear me down, since it now boasted even more medals and chains, from various campaigns, conquered countries or envious rulers from all over the world. Thus, I had to wear a steel plate on my back to keep me up-right, which weighed me down even more.

I might actually sink a small ship by boarding it by surprise.

But that steel plate also saved my life, when a shooter unloaded 6 revolver rounds into my back at the National Opera.

I just turned and grinned at the stupid man staring at his useless pistol. "See, if you were not a coward and tried to fight me like a man, you would not get crucified. Enjoy!"

Next second, a pair of former rugby players tackled the attacker to the ground and bound his limbs in cuffs. "Crucifixion, your Majesty?"
one of them asked a bit confused.

"Of course. He ruined my clothes." I explained in a patient voice.

While the fat lady sang, the game menu opened to show a new random event has popped up. 'A random assassin takes a shot at Carol II of Romania and Greece. He: dies, is wounded, escapes unhurt. Pick one answer.'

Sadly, the first two options were greyed out, so I could only poke the last one and sigh inward. What the Hell game? Show me the menu before I get shot!

My wife Helen pointed at the unopened champagne bottle, sitting on a small table in the Opera loggia. "Need a drink, my love?"

The game menu popped open again. 'A Soviet assassin poisons Carol II of Romania and Greece. He: dies, is crippled, escapes unhurt. Pick one answer.'

I faced palmed loud enough for a bodyguard to check inside the loggia. "Something happened, my King?"

"The bottle is poisoned. Soviets." I muttered as I walked out, before a bomb blew up or something. The first two options greyed out as Helen ran after me.

"Your uniform is full of holes..." she yelled at my back.

I grit my teeth and walked faster, until I reached my car and drew a deep breath. Then the Opera House exploded, prompting another game message.
Helen crawled on all fours until she reached the car and I dragged her inside. Her splinter-vest had protected her from splinters and such, but her fox furcoat was ruined.

"Your fur is full of holes." I observed cogently.

"We should go. There will be multiple attackers, just like Sarajevo." Helen whispered in a tired voice.

I nodded gently and tapped the inner window. "Army headquarters. Run over anyone."

"Of course!" the driver yelled a bit too loud. His eardrums must be busted.

Being a King wasn't so fun sometimes.

My words were printed in bold letters all over the world, beside the photographs of the assailant's last moment on his cross. We fed his corpse to the wolves afterwards, so he could reach Hell in shit shape.

Turns out, the man was a fervent communist and also an opera fan, and simply took an opportunity shot at my back. But I think my response was ever cooler.
Perhaps my uniform wasn't so heavy after all. But also, I could invest in some Albanian silk and make some real body armor, for me and the more valuable people around. Like my sons and wives and a few generals.
 
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Problem with an absolute monarchy is one person sitting pretty that everyone knows if they kill will cripple a county. If someone manages to kill the US president what county the assassin is from will probably either get bombed or invaded within a week regardless of the reasons why.

that said america isn't so defensive of its diplomats so who knows in this day and age, didn't a US embassy get sacked recently, And nothing happened.

Why are the commie trying to kill him? Politics is confusing in this era lol.
 
King Carol's hoi4 portrait here is a departure from the norm, because instead of a mere "bust" style portrait, it shows his entire profile.

The "Romania Stronk" mod developer states that he needed all the extra space for the ever evolving mantle of medals and chains the ruler gains per every successful war focuses. The fact that he also keeps adding more traits to the man after he completes said focuses until they stack overflow is just the cherry on top of the Roma cake.
Why are the commie trying to kill him? Politics is confusing in this era lol.
They are communists and he is a successful ruler. Jealousy, seething, and malding wore red that season didn't you know?
 

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