“!” Victor Emmanuel III was stunned!
“Umberto, do you…
do you know what you’re saying?” “Father, I know exactly what I’m doing.” Umberto said with a reckless air.
“You’re worried that suppressing the Blackshirts will trigger a civil war, so if you reject me, it will likewise lead to civil war.” If Mussolini could make threats, then so could he.
Hearing his son’s threat, Victor Emmanuel III flew into a rage.
He had never expected that his son would actually threaten rebellion and turn everything upside down.
Who had taught him this?
“Umberto, what on earth are you trying to do?!” “You want to seize power, but what are you going to use to seize it?” “You are the Crown Prince.
If you take one wrong step, what will happen to the future of the Italian Royal Family?” “Ah!!” “Answer me!” Victor Emmanuel III’s voice thundered through the room.
Fortunately, the study door was well soundproofed.
Otherwise, the entire palace would have heard the father and son’s argument.
“Father, I want to preserve the royal family and protect the people.” Umberto calmly took a photograph of soldiers training from his file bag.
These soldiers were the source of his confidence.
“New Rome was built by my own hands, and the Security Battalion protecting the city is my personal armed force, with an established strength of two thousand men.
However, after the Blackshirts began their operation, I issued a mobilization order recalling retired soldiers.
Now, ten thousand men are standing by at the New Rome camp.” “You should know that the Blackshirts marching south from Perugia were forced to take a detour because my troops established a defensive line along the Tiber River.” “The weapons and equipment of my ten thousand men are more than enough to deal with that disorganized and poorly equipped mob of Blackshirts.” Umberto was quite confident about this.
He had been preparing in the shadows, while Mussolini and his forces were out in the open.
Naturally, he had even more ways to crush the arrogant Blackshirts.
Victor Emmanuel III looked at the photograph, shook his head helplessly, and slowly sat down.
Umberto had prepared everything.
As a father, what was he supposed to do?
“Umberto, do you really want to seize power that badly?
Aren’t you afraid the country will become even more chaotic?” “No, you’re wrong.
I am seizing power precisely to quell social unrest and restore order.
I have no intention of permanently abolishing constitutional democracy, but democracy has temporarily failed, and a provisional system is needed during the transition until the country can once again hold normal elections.” “A provisional system?
Are you talking about an absolute monarchy?” “Father, if you’re unwilling to bear this infamy, then you can abdicate and give the throne to me!” “What?!” Victor Emmanuel III stared at his stubborn son, his patience reaching its limit.
If Umberto had not been his only heir, he would have thrown him out on the spot.
This was a blatant provocation.
Did his son truly regard him, the king, as nothing more than a figurehead?
The Army still answered to him!
“Umberto, I will give you one chance to take back what you just said.
Otherwise, you will remain in this palace and go nowhere.” Victor Emmanuel III’s attitude hardened.
This son of his was far too presumptuous.
He needed to be confined to the palace and properly educated so that he would understand what a Crown Prince should and should not do.
“Father, once the bow is drawn, there is no turning back.” Umberto had never considered retreating.
“Before I came here, I issued operational orders to the Security Battalion.
As soon as the appointed time arrives, the operation will begin.” Umberto’s own safety was already guaranteed, so he had no reason to hesitate.
“If the Army remains neutral, the Blackshirts are no match for me.
Once the battle is over, I will take control of Rome.
Putting me under house arrest will accomplish nothing.” Umberto did not reveal the rest of his trump cards.
Even if some elements of the Army sided with the Blackshirts, he could handle them.
After all, who didn’t have their own people in the Army?
If negotiations failed, his hidden forces would act.
“In fact, they reached an agreement with our royal uncle, the Duke of Aosta, long ago.
If you refuse to surrender power, they will replace you with our royal uncle to give their seizure of power legitimacy.” “That’s one of the main reasons you’re afraid, isn’t it?” His father had his own intelligence channels and must have known about these things for quite some time.
“You must not allow yourself to be frightened by Mussolini’s words.” “He is an opportunist, a master of propaganda, and a gambler skilled at intimidation, but cautious by nature.” “His ambitions are enormous, and his ultimate goal is to abolish the monarchy and establish a personal dictatorship.
His newspaper said last year, ‘The crown may have been useful in the nineteenth century, but it is redundant in the twentieth century.'” “Now he tells you that he has no intention of abolishing the Crown.
That’s nothing more than a smokescreen, exploiting your fear to force you into compromise and gain your support.” “I have records of his dealings with bankers, industrialists, landlords, and nobles.
Their interests are already deeply intertwined.
What do they still need a king for?” “If you back down today, then tomorrow, when his Blackshirts are standing in this very office, the three-hundred-year history of the House of Savoy will come to an end.” “Compromise is not peace.
It is merely a stay of execution.” “So why don’t you let me try?” Umberto continued presenting evidence.
In truth, he did not want to launch a coup, as doing so would damage the reputation of the Italian Royal Family.
As long as his father supported him, everything he did would have legitimacy.
Victor Emmanuel III looked at the evidence scattered across the desk, his breathing growing increasingly rapid as Umberto continued exposing the thoughts he had kept buried deep within his heart.
He only wanted the Italian Royal Family to survive.
As for political power, if it had to be surrendered, then so be it.
As long as the constitution remained, the king would retain his rights.
Even if the constitution were eventually torn apart, a puppet king was still a king.
“If I launch a coup to seize power, it will leave no small stain on the Italian Royal Family.
You should think this through carefully,” Umberto added casually.
Hearing these words, Victor Emmanuel III suddenly understood.
Umberto was far too calculating.
Only now did Victor Emmanuel III realize what was happening.
He was a king, but he was also a father.
If he refused to support his only son, he would be dragged down with him anyway.
Umberto had tied their fates together!
He had spent most of his life acting cautiously, only to be maneuvered into a corner by his own son.
“Father, if you keep hesitating, I’m going to stop waiting for you.” Seeing his father hesitate again and realizing that his old habit of indecision was resurfacing, Umberto hurriedly pressed him.
Time waited for no one.
“If the violent rule of the Fascists triggers a left-wing uprising, that red tide will sweep across Italy and devour everything in its hatred.” “Do you still remember Louis XVI and the family of Nicholas II?” “Are you willing to become the last king?” “You!” Hearing those two names, Victor Emmanuel III shot to his feet, visibly uneasy.
Unknown crises were terrifying.
Known endings were suffocating.
“Umberto, is there truly no room to turn back?” “Peace or war.
Decide for yourself.” “Umberto, what difference is there between you and Mussolini?
Both of you threaten others to achieve your goals.
But your position is different.
If others refuse to recognize what you’re doing, even your position as Crown Prince will be difficult to preserve.” “It doesn’t matter if they don’t recognize me, as long as the people do.” “You…” Victor Emmanuel III felt as though his entire understanding of his son had been overturned.
It turned out that his sensible and low-key son had always possessed an entirely different political philosophy.
It was not that he had been obedient all these years; he had simply believed there was no point in discussing such matters with his father.
Good.
Very good.
“What do you want me to do?” Victor Emmanuel III compromised.
“First, declare a state of emergency throughout the country.
Then, on the grounds of ill health, appoint me as regent and authorize me to take charge of military and political affairs.
Sign the martial law decree and grant me command of the Army.” “Impossible!
The constitution does not allow it!
The political parties will never accept it!” Victor Emmanuel III could compromise, but he could not allow Umberto to rule directly.
Otherwise, all of them would rise up against him.
Although those people feared the Fascists, they were even more afraid of a dictatorial monarchy led by the Crown Prince, or of a “military cabinet” sustained by the Army.
Such an arrangement would be regarded as a coup by the Italian Royal Family, provoking joint opposition from virtually every political faction and potentially triggering a civil war.
“Father, aren’t you overestimating that group of incompetent fools?” “If they really want to tear off all pretenses, I have plenty of leverage and compromising material on them.” Incompetent and corrupt politicians—a pack of scavengers and termites who should have been swept away long ago.
Political families—a collection of malignant tumors monopolizing the resources of the upper classes.
In the past, the Italian Royal Family had needed them.
In the future, the Italian Royal Family would no longer need them.
“Father, I have been planning this for several years.
I have the ability to keep everything under control.” “Do you know why I had to wait until now?” “Because the contradictions within the system had not yet fully erupted.
We had to let the public see for themselves how the so-called democratic system governed the country, so that, in their despair, they would tacitly accept a new form of government.” “…” Hearing such far-reaching words, Victor Emmanuel III realized that he had indeed underestimated his son’s intelligence.
“Son, can you tell me when you started planning all of this?” “A long, long time ago.
I was still a child then, but Father never listened to my opinions.” “…!” Victor Emmanuel III was speechless.
Seeing that his father still wanted to stall for time, Umberto ignored him.
He had already done everything he could.
If a bloody coup was destined to happen, then so be it.
There would simply have to be a thorough purge.
Coups, after all, were hardly uncommon in Europe.
Hadn’t Portugal and Spain, just across the water, already demonstrated as much?
Umberto gathered the various pieces of evidence scattered across the desk and packed them, stack by stack, back into the file bag.
“What are you going to do?” Victor Emmanuel III suddenly became nervous.
“If Father isn’t planning to place me under house arrest, then I’m leaving,” Umberto replied.
Just then, the king’s aide pushed open the door with a nervous expression.
“Your Majesty, the Army General Staff has called.
An unidentified armed force is gathering outside Rome, and they are requesting instructions on whether to mobilize the garrison.” Hearing this, Victor Emmanuel III glanced at Umberto beside him, his brows furrowing.
“Your people?” “Yes.” Umberto shrugged.
It was all part of the plan—they were seizing favorable positions.
“You bastard!” Victor Emmanuel III exploded again.
Once the shooting started, Rome would run with blood.
His son was far too ruthless.
“Take it!
Take it all!
Go and do whatever you please!” Victor Emmanuel III picked up his pen, wrote the letter of appointment and the martial law decree, then stamped both with the king’s great seal, completing everything in one go.
“I’ll give you three days.
Avoid bloodshed as much as possible.” That was Victor Emmanuel III’s bottom line.
“Father, trust me.” “Mussolini doesn’t have the guts!” Umberto took the martial law decree and the letter of appointment and quickly walked out.
If he waited another minute, his father might change his mind.
Meanwhile, Victor Emmanuel III watched his son’s departing figure, his emotions complicated and a sense of powerlessness settling over him.
The times seemed to have changed.