MANHATTAN, Kan. | This renaissance of Kansas State football should be the stuff of fairy tales. An unpopular head coach is fired, a legend returns from retirement, and 12 months later the program finds itself reconnecting with a spectacular past. </p><p>The team lost to Missouri on Saturday, but it could capture the Big 12 North championship for the first time since 2003, a feat few thought possible entering the season. </p><p>Indeed, these aren&rsquo;t normal times at Kansas State. The thing that prompted the football program&rsquo;s revival still lurks: Ron Prince&rsquo;s departure and an undisclosed buyout package, a possible hit of millions of dollars, and lingering questions about this golden parachute for a coach who finished with a 17-20 record. </p><p>When Prince was fired on Nov. 5, 2008, his association with the school appeared over. He had received a contract extension in August that called for a $1.2 million buyout. But in May, six months after the firing, Kansas State announced that an undisclosed agreement paying Prince an additional $3.2 million had been discovered.</p><p>The university, in a lawsuit, said that no one but then athletic director Bob Krause knew about the agreement and that Kansas State shouldn&rsquo;t have to pay. </p><p>But e-mails obtained by The Kansas City Star and interviews with more than a dozen sources raise questions about the university&rsquo;s position.</p><p>The e-mails show a two-week negotiation period during the summer of 2008 in which Krause and Prince&rsquo;s agent, Neil Cornrich, put together the framework of the secret agreement. The e-mails and other documents show Krause used his K-State e-mail address, office and FedEx accounts during the process. They also show that, at least once, Cornrich offered to forward details of the agreement to a university attorney.</p><p>Many of those interviewed expressed a strong skepticism that Krause would have acted without the knowledge of Jon Wefald, the university president and his close friend. Because of the closeness of the K-State community and the lingering influence of Wefald and Krause, these sources asked for anonymity. Krause, though no longer officially associated with the school, is married to the daughter of Jack Vanier, perhaps K-State&rsquo;s most important booster and for whom the football complex is named.</p><p>&ldquo;The university believes that Bob Krause was acting alone and without knowledge or approval of anyone else at the university,&rdquo; a Kansas State spokesman wrote by e-mail. &ldquo;Beyond that, we do not comment on personnel issues.&rdquo;</p><p>Wefald has maintained from the beginning that he was never aware of a secret agreement, although he was not surprised that doubt might exist.</p><p> &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve known (Krause) for years and years, and I know exactly why they&rsquo;re thinking that,&rdquo; he said.</p><p>Current athletic director John Currie declined to be interviewed.</p><p>Others remain wary about how the secret agreement, or memorandum of understanding, came into existence.</p><p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s inconceivable to me that the secret document was only one person. Come on. That is ridiculous,&rdquo; said a source close to the athletic department. &ldquo;The general sense among those of us in the know is, &lsquo;Of course (Wefald) knew, of course he knew.&rsquo; That&rsquo;s just laughable (to suggest otherwise). </p><p>&ldquo;People feel very embarrassed and extremely let down.&rdquo;</p><p>On May 20, in the wake of the agreement&rsquo;s discovery, Wefald fired Krause, who at the time was director of economic development at the Olathe Innovation Campus but had been athletic director when the secret agreement was negotiated.