novelSusiti Chapter 134 The Golden Key and the Cobra
Chapter 134 The Golden Key and the Cobra
A week later, Ermo Street, Athens' most bustling commercial street, was teeming with people.
In front of a newly renovated classical building, a red carpet stretched from the entrance to the street, and a military band played the national anthem.
The National Development Bank of Greece was officially established today.
The news had already spread throughout Athens over the past week. But what truly surprised everyone was the choice of the bank's president.
When Crown Prince Constantine, dressed in his magnificent marshal's uniform, appeared at the ribbon-cutting ceremony, the crowd erupted in enthusiastic cheers. But when Alexius Mavrodocatos, in his sharp banker's suit, appeared behind him, his face still pale but his expression now regaining its usual elegance and composure, the crowd fell silent instantly.
Especially the old nobles and oligarchs who came to watch the ceremony, their eyes widened as if they were witnessing the most absurd scene in the world.
Mavrokodatos!
The leader of the Fanar noble family, the mastermind behind the fight to the death with the Crown Prince in the Phoenix Mountain incident, has now become the helmsman of the Crown Prince's most important financial instrument.
They couldn't understand the Crown Prince's actions at all.
Is this the Crown Prince's magnanimity, or has he run out of options and had no choice but to compromise with his enemy?
Under the watchful eyes of countless people, a mixture of surprise, speculation, and schadenfreude, the ribbon-cutting ceremony began.
Constantine delivered a brief but powerful speech, announcing that the establishment of the new bank would be a key step for Greece toward industrialization and national prosperity.
Then, he picked up a pair of golden scissors and cut the red ribbon.
The most eye-catching scene then unfolded.
Instead of handing the bank's seal to Mavrokodatos, Constantine picked up a specially made solid gold key, a symbol of the bank's power, and personally handed it to him.
"Mr. Mavrokodatos," Constantine's voice echoed throughout the square through the loudspeaker, "from this day forward, the responsibility of opening the door to Greece's future wealth rests with you."
Mavrokodatos bowed slightly and accepted the heavy golden key with both hands. A humble and respectful smile graced his face.
But in the instant he lowered his head, no one saw that the knuckles of his hand holding the golden key were bulging from excessive force, as if he were grasping a slippery cobra.
This scene plunged everyone into even deeper confusion.
On the second day after the new bank opened, it announced two core businesses in a groundbreaking manner.
The first measure offers low-interest development loans for three years to all small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) registered in Greece that are willing to invest in manufacturing, mining, and transportation. The annual interest rate is only four percent.
This figure caused an uproar throughout the business community in Athens.
It's important to understand that at the time, the National Bank of Greece was charging as much as 8% on loans to its most creditworthy clients. For small and medium-sized business owners with no connections, the interest rates to borrow from private banks controlled by oligarchs were even higher, exceeding 15%—a truly exploitative practice.
With an annual interest rate of four percent, this is no longer a loan; it's practically free!
Suddenly, long lines of small business owners formed outside the National Development Bank, seeking information and applying for loans. They are one of Greece's most dynamic yet historically most oppressed groups. Now, the Crown Prince has given them an unprecedented opportunity.
The second business is more precise and more lethal.
The National Development Bank of Greece is issuing its first tranche of "Patriotic Reconstruction Bonds" to all Greek diaspora citizens worldwide. The bonds are denominated in pounds sterling and Swiss francs, have a five-year maturity, and offer an annual interest rate of up to six percent!
Six percent interest on pounds sterling!
In an era when annual interest rates on savings at major European banks were generally only two to three percent, this was a figure that would drive any investor crazy. Moreover, this bond was marketed as a "patriotic construction" project and guaranteed by the credit of the Greek royal family.
This is not an economic act at all; it is a political conspiracy.
What Constantine wanted to do was to ruthlessly poach the best loan customers (small and medium-sized enterprises) and the largest amount of future savings (overseas Chinese) from the old banking system in a way that was almost like cutting off their lifeline!
The news spread like wildfire, flying across the ocean.
In Alexandria, Egypt, Antonio Petalas, a shipping magnate and leader of the Greek diaspora community, was the first to step forward. He published a full-page advertisement in the most influential Greek-language newspaper in the area, announcing that he would personally subscribe to £500,000 worth of "patriotic construction bonds."
In his GG, he wrote: "My wealth comes from the sails of the Mediterranean. But my soul will forever belong to the blue of the Aegean. Today, the motherland calls, and the Petaras family has no choice but to answer the call!"
Petalas's rallying cry instantly ignited the patriotic fervor of Greeks overseas.
In Smyrna, Turkey; Marseille, France; and London, England, thousands of Greek businessmen, doctors, lawyers, and even ordinary coffee shop owners flocked to local banks or Petalas shipping offices.
They may not have half a million pounds, but they have a thousand pounds, a hundred pounds.
They took out their savings of many years and rushed to subscribe to this bond from their distant homeland.
"This is so that our children can one day return to a powerful Greece!"
"My grandfather told me that our roots are in Athens!"
A steady stream of hot money, like invisible streams, converged from all over the world and flowed into Greece's parched economic system through the new pool of the Greek National Development Bank.
Athens.
Inside the luxurious office of the governor of the National Bank of Greece.
Stephenos Stretter, a banker known for his elegance and composure, revealed undisguised contempt for the first time in front of his subordinates.
"A clown jumping around." He slowly sliced an apple with a silver knife, scoffing at the National Development Bank's actions.
"A 4% loan interest rate? A 6% bond interest rate? Does he think money falls from the sky? This kind of loss-making business will ruin him in less than three months," Stretter sneered.
In his view, Constantine's actions were nothing but amateurish nonsense, completely contrary to the basic logic of finance.
"And that Mavrokodatos, a disillusioned politician, also dares to dream of becoming a banker? What a joke."
A vice president cautiously reminded him, "President, their capital inflow... is very large. In the past few days, many of our bank's customers have started transferring their deposits to the Development Bank to buy bonds."
"Just a bunch of idiots blinded by patriotism." Stretter put a piece of apple in his mouth and chewed slowly. "Ignore them. The world of finance has its own rules. Passion is the cheapest thing in the world."
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the bank across the street with its new sign, his eyes filled with arrogance.
"Pass down my orders," he commanded without turning his head. "From today onwards, the three of us—Citibank, HSBC, and our branches in Athens—will refuse to accept any bank drafts issued by the National Development Bank of Greece. Not a single one."
He wanted to completely isolate this new bank from within the financial system, leaving it with depositors' funds but unable to participate in genuine interbank settlements and transactions. He wanted to turn it into an isolated island.
"I'd like to see how Mavrokodatos and his young crown prince can keep up without us."
Sir Harding received the same message inside the British Embassy.
He expressed his "welcome" to Stretter's arrogance and retaliation.
He even personally summoned Mavrokodatos and expressed his "deep sympathy" for his "deeply troubled" situation.
"Alexius, my friend, you see, I told you long ago, your prince knows absolutely nothing about finance." Sir Harding patted Mavrokodatos on the shoulder, his tone sincere. "Now you've hit a wall. But don't worry, this is your opportunity. As long as you can give me a copy of the Development Bank's true internal accounts..."
Mavrokodatos looked "uncomfortable" but was ultimately "forced" to agree to Sir Harding's request.
As he left the embassy, Sir Harding wore a victorious smile. He believed that it wouldn't be long before he had complete control of the new bank, turning Constantine's plan into a joke that benefited British capital.
Meanwhile, on the top floor of the National Development Bank, in a secret room.
Professor Andreas, a scholar who was originally devoted to his studies, now stood before a huge sand table like a battle-hardened general. On the sand table, there were no armies or castles, only arrows representing the flow of funds and chess pieces representing various banks.
In the period following the Phoenix Mountain incident, he underwent a complete transformation. Constantine not only provided him with a platform for theoretical practice but also used the harshest realities to make him understand the bloodshed of financial warfare. His eyes no longer held only the purity of a scholar but also a touch of the coldness and decisiveness of a trader.
Constantine stood beside him, watching the pieces on the sand table that represented the old bank's power, which had formed an impenetrable encirclement.
"Your Highness, Stretter has already made his move. They've blocked all our settlement channels," Andreas said calmly. "The funds we've absorbed from the expatriates are now just sitting in the vaults, unable to be invested in any industrial loans."
"As expected," Constantine replied simply.
He picked up a black piece representing the "National Development Bank," but instead of attacking the encirclement, he placed it outside the sand table in an inconspicuous position.
"Professor, since they won't let us play on their chessboard," Constantine's gaze fell on the huge world map on the wall, "then let's go and create a new chessboard."
Andreas followed his gaze.
That gaze passed over Athens, over Greece, and was cast toward the wider Mediterranean Sea, toward distant Egypt and the Ottoman Empire.
Andreas instantly understood the Crown Prince's intention.
He didn't say anything more, but picked up the phone and dialed a number.
On the other end of the phone was Antonio Petaras.
"Mr. Petaras," Andreas's voice was calm and clear, "His Highness has new instructions."