Belgrade looked completely different at night.
During the day the city was loud, filled with voices, newspapers, and conversations about politics. But at night the streets became quiet. Only a few lanterns illuminated the stone pavements, and a cold damp wind drifted from the Danube.
Skoropadskyi was returning from the mission on foot.
Sometimes walks like this helped him feel the city better.
Belgrade was smaller than Saint Petersburg or Kyiv, but there was an energy in it—a young country finding its place in the Balkans.
But that energy had another side.
At the corner of one street Skoropadskyi noticed a group of young men. They were speaking quietly but with excitement.
—"Bosnia cannot remain under Austria," one said.
—"This is temporary," another replied.
—"Vienna thinks it can decide the fate of the Slavs."
They noticed Skoropadskyi and the conversation immediately stopped.
Such conversations were becoming more common in Belgrade.
The next day Skoropadskyi received an invitation to dinner from one of the Serbian officers.
The meeting took place in a small house on the outskirts of the city.
When he entered the room several people were already there.
Among them were army officers and a few civilians.
One of the officers stood up.
—"Colonel Skoropadskyi, glad to see you."
—"Thank you for the invitation."
At first the conversation remained calm.
They spoke about military reforms, events in Bosnia, and the reaction of Europe.
But gradually the tone of the discussion began to change.
One of the younger officers said:
—"Sometimes history requires decisive action."
Another added:
—"Diplomacy is too slow."
Skoropadskyi listened carefully.
He understood that behind such words often hid far more serious ideas.
After some time the host of the house said:
—"Colonel, you have served in war."
—"Yes."
—"Do you think a small country can defeat a great empire?"
Skoropadskyi answered calmly:
—"If it has allies."
The officer shook his head.
—"And if it has none?"
For a moment Skoropadskyi remained silent.
—"Then it needs strong will."
The room became quiet.
One of the officers said:
—"Serbia has such a will."
Skoropadskyi noticed several men exchange glances.
The gesture was too quick to be accidental.
After dinner the guests began to leave.
But one of the officers quietly said:
—"Colonel, if you have time, I would like to show you one part of the city."
They stepped outside.
The night was cold.
The officer led him through the narrow streets of old Belgrade.
After some time they stopped in front of an old building.
—"People who believe in the future of Serbia gather here," the officer said.
Skoropadskyi looked at the door.
—"A political club?"
The officer smiled.
—"You could say that."
But there was something else in his voice.
Skoropadskyi understood that in the Balkans politics was rarely simple.
Some ideas spread not through parliaments.
But through secret societies.
The officer knocked three times.
The door did not open immediately.
After several seconds the sound of a bolt was heard and the door slowly opened. A man in civilian clothes appeared in the doorway and looked carefully at Skoropadskyi.
—"Who is with you?"
—"A guest," the officer replied calmly.
The man remained silent for several seconds, then nodded.
—"Come in."
They entered the building.
The house was much larger than it had appeared from the outside. A narrow corridor led to a staircase, and from there to a large room on the second floor.
When Skoropadskyi entered, the conversations inside immediately stopped.
Around ten people were sitting at a table.
Some were in Serbian army uniforms. Others wore civilian clothes.
A map of the Balkans hung on the wall.
Documents and several revolvers lay on the table.
The host of the house said:
—"Gentlemen, this is Colonel Skoropadskyi."
Several men stood.
One of them looked at him carefully.
—"A Russian officer?"
—"Yes."
—"Then you know what war is."
Skoropadskyi replied calmly:
—"Yes."
The man nodded.
—"Then you understand something else."
He pointed at the map.
—"Sometimes wars do not begin on battlefields."
—"Where then?"
—"In the minds of men."
The room fell silent.
One of the officers approached the map.
—"Look."
He traced his finger across the Balkans.
—"Here is Serbia."
Then he pointed to Bosnia.
—"Serbs live here."
Then he pointed to Austria-Hungary.
—"And here their fate is decided."
He turned toward Skoropadskyi.
—"Tell me, Colonel… is that fair?"
Skoropadskyi answered calmly:
—"History is rarely fair."
Some of the men smiled faintly.
One of the younger officers said:
—"That is exactly why sometimes it must be corrected."
At that moment another man stepped out from the shadows.
He was of medium height, with a cold and attentive gaze.
When he spoke, the others immediately fell silent.
—"We are not speaking about revenge."
He walked toward the map.
—"We are speaking about the future."
He pointed to the Balkans.
—"The Ottoman Empire is dying."
—"Austria-Hungary is trying to hold its territories."
—"Russia seeks influence."
He paused.
—"And small nations must fight for their place."
Skoropadskyi looked at him carefully.
—"And how do you intend to do that?"
The man smiled slightly.
—"Sometimes armies are not enough."
He said quietly:
—"Sometimes history requires men who are willing to act in the shadows."
Several of the men nodded.
One of the officers said:
—"Serbia is too small to fight empires directly."
—"But it can change the rules of the game."
Skoropadskyi asked:
—"Secret operations?"
The man answered calmly:
—"Politics."
Then he added:
—"And sometimes… decisive actions."
The room fell silent again.
Skoropadskyi understood that he was present at a meeting of men who thought very differently from diplomats.
For them, politics was simply another form of war.
After some time the conversation turned to more concrete matters.
They discussed Bosnia.
Serbian officers spoke about the national movement.
About underground organizations.
About young men ready to fight against Austria.
One of them said:
—"The youth in Bosnia are already ready."
—"They only need support."
Another added:
—"And leadership."
Skoropadskyi listened silently.
He understood that conversations like these could lead to extremely dangerous consequences.
Finally the man who had spoken earlier turned to him.
—"Colonel."
—"Yes?"
—"You have seen great wars."
—"Yes."
—"Tell us honestly."
He looked directly into his eyes.
—"If the Balkans ignite… will Russia intervene?"
Skoropadskyi did not answer immediately.
—"Russia cannot ignore the Balkans."
The room became silent.
The man nodded.
—"That is enough."
After some time the meeting ended.
When Skoropadskyi stepped outside, the night had grown colder.
Belgrade seemed quiet again.
But now he knew that beneath this silence another movement existed.
A movement of men prepared to change history.
He walked slowly down the street.
Sometimes the fate of Europe was decided by armies.
Sometimes by diplomats.
But sometimes it was decided by men who gathered at night in small rooms.
And spoke about war as if it had already begun.