1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 147 The Price of Patriotism

Leonidas Capusalis's hand finally reached out.

His fingers were thick and his knuckles were deformed, but the way he picked up the flintlock pistol was with an almost reverent gentleness. He didn't look at the barrel or check the flint; instead, he simply turned the pistol over.

His thumb rubbed the griffin family crest over and over again.

The surrounding mountain people whispered among themselves, not understanding why their chief would react so strongly to an old gun sent by the Athenians.

The wind on the mountaintop blew, ruffling Capsalis's white beard. His gaze passed over Zograves before him, looking towards the distant, rolling mountains.

"My grandfather, Hector, held off 1,500 Turks for three whole days with three hundred brothers at that mountain pass." His voice was no longer so rough, but instead carried a distant echo.

"After the war, we were betrayed by our former 'allies,' receiving neither land nor money, and were subjected to severe oppression. It wasn't until twenty years ago that a new king arrived by sea and sent this gun."

"My father told me that the king's messenger said that the royal family would never forget the merits of the Capusalis family. This gun is the token."

He raised his head and looked at Zograves again, his hawk-like eyes softening considerably.

"For more than a decade, Athens has had one prime minister after another, and one tax collector after another. They only remember what they took from us, nobody remembers this gun."

The weight of the past dissolved the tension before the stone fortress. A potential armed conflict, witnessed by history, transformed into a reunion of the descendants of the deceased.

Zograves knew the time had come.

He took out a letter sealed with sealing wax from his pocket, stepped forward again, and respectfully handed it over.

"This is a personal letter from His Highness Constantine."

Capusalis took the letter. The envelope was of fine quality but without much decoration; the sealing wax bore the Crown Prince's personal seal, rather than a cold government stamp.

He tore open the seal and pulled out the letter.

The letter was written in strong, vigorous handwriting, yet the wording was humble and sincere. At the beginning of the letter, Constantine, as a junior, paid the highest tribute to the descendant of the heroes who defended the glory of Greece.

The letter contained not a single empty phrase about national righteousness, nor a single grand command.

It only depicts a concrete, even somewhat "crude" blueprint.

"...The rushing rivers of Agrafa are a sleeping dragon, whose power is enough to illuminate the night as bright as day in all of Greece. I hope to awaken it, not for the sake of the Athenian parliament, but so that the descendants of Agrafa will no longer have to rely solely on barren land and herds for survival."

"Their courage and loyalty deserve a better life. They should be the guardians of the new era of electricity and industry, not forgotten mountain people. They should receive the dignity that matches the glory flowing in their blood, and the wealth that will allow their descendants to stand tall."

Capsalis read slowly and carefully. After finishing the letter, he looked up, a complex light swirling in his sharp eyes.

He remained silent for a long time. Only the sound of the wind could be heard on the mountaintop.

After a long while, he carefully folded the letter and put it into his pocket.

He raised his head and stared intently at Zograves with his eyes that seemed to see right through people.

"My first question is, what do you want to take from my river?"

"The second question is, what will my people receive?"

"My third question is, why should I believe you're just another batch of Athenian swindlers with a pretty new face?"

The three questions, like three sharp knives, point directly to the core of the cooperation.

Zograves remained completely calm. This was all within the Crown Prince's expectations. He straightened his back, which had become slightly hunched from days of hard work.

"Lord Capsalis, we do not wish to take anything from the river. We only wish to use the force of the falling water to build a giant watermill on your land."

He explained it using the simplest and most straightforward metaphor.

"This watermill produces something called 'electricity.' It can power lights and make machines run."

"Regarding the second question, His Highness promises that the Agrafa region will permanently and tax-free receive one-tenth of all future revenue generated by this large watermill, whether from the sale of 'electricity' or the collection of tolls!"

"One-tenth!" This number elicited a low gasp from the surrounding mountain dwellers.

"Furthermore," Zograves emphasized, "all the workers and guards needed for the future construction and defense of this great watermill will be given priority and must be recruited, trained, and paid far more than the workers in Athens. We are not here to plunder; we are here to cooperate."

A slight softening finally appeared on Capsalis's rock-solid face.

The terms were too good to be true. So good that he couldn't believe it. But he remained on his last legs of guard.

"Very good terms." He nodded, then changed the subject, "But we people of Agrafa only trust the guns in our own hands. So, I also have my terms."

"First, the security of the future power station and dam must be handled by my people. We will form an 'Agrafa Mountain Guard,' which will only obey my orders and will not be subject to the control of any Athenian general!"

"Secondly, the 10% profit you promised must be transferred directly from the royal family's account to our mountain commune's account. I don't trust those bureaucrats in the Ministry of Finance who only know how to falsify accounts."

"Third, you can build roads. But the only road leading to the outside world, and the checkpoints at the intersections, must be controlled by my people. We will decide for ourselves who the gates of Agrafa will be opened to."

Each condition was incredibly demanding. This was tantamount to publicly recognizing the semi-independent status of the "state within a state" in the Agrafa Mountains. No Greek government could possibly agree to such terms that would shake the very foundations of the nation.

Petrettis's heart was in his throat.

Zograves, however, showed the first genuine smile of the trip.

He took out another document from his bag, a power of attorney personally signed by Constantine and stamped with the Crown Prince's personal seal.

"At the end of his letter, His Highness asked me to pass on a message to you."

Zograves handed over the authorization letter.

"His Highness said: The lions of Agrafa deserve to have their own territory. As long as they are protecting the future of Greece, the royal family will always be their most reliable support."

Capsalis snatched the power of attorney. Looking at the clear terms of authorization and the signature and seal that could not possibly be forged, his breathing suddenly became heavy.

He suddenly stood up from the bearskin chair.

His imposing figure cast a huge shadow.

He extended his right hand, which was covered in calluses from years of drawing a bow and wielding a knife.

"make a deal!"

The old chief's voice was like thunder crashing down from a mountaintop.

"From this day forward, in Agrafa, you are my most honored guests, Leonidas Capsalis!"

Zograves reached out and clasped his hand tightly with that rough, large hand.

The most dangerous link in the plan, the biggest political obstacle, has at this moment dramatically transformed into the most steadfast ally.

Capusalis turned around and gave a loud command to the mountain people behind him who were still on guard with their guns.

"Put down your guns! Go and bring out the finest wines from the cellar! To welcome the prince's guests!"