Once the war ended, the Bulgarian government became busy again. A victory banquet was indispensable.
But this time was somewhat unusual. Everyone knew that Ferdinand had been in low spirits lately due to the death of his mother, Princess Clémentine. No one dared disturb him.
Thus, throughout the entire celebration, there was no sign of the king himself. Still, that did nothing to dampen everyone's high spirits.
In any case, the rewards that were due remained just as plentiful. Not a single bit would be cut because of this.
Naturally, the domestic newspapers had to trumpet the victory to the heavens. With a triumph like this, they could go on boasting about it for half a year and still not be done!
From the king to the soldiers, workers, and farmers; from the government to the army; from groups to individuals—inside and out, the media would praise them all, satisfying the public's curiosity and vanity!
Ferdinand was naturally still the star of this affair. As the greatest monarch in Bulgarian history, without equal, he had more than enough to inspire reverence.
With public opinion adding fuel to the flames, Ferdinand had already become, in the hearts of the Bulgarian people, a great existence second only to God—artificially deified.
Oh, in truth, Ferdinand had recovered long ago. Princess Clémentine had been over seventy, an advanced age for this era, and she had passed peacefully.
Birth, aging, illness, and death were simply part of life. Ferdinand, having lived two lives, understood that better than most. After seeing Princess Clémentine off, he had recovered.
It was only because he was too lazy and did not want to attend so many social engagements that he used this as an excuse, claiming he was in a very bad mood.
His prestige had already been raised