novelSusiti Chapter 168 The Crying Granary
Chapter 168 The Crying Granary
Metaxas watched the Crown Prince casually toss aside the newspaper announcing the downfall of the Smyrna business tycoon, as if discarding a piece of scrap paper he'd just wiped his hands with. His heart pounded. This wasn't a simple commercial victory; it was a multi-faceted war involving diplomacy, intelligence, finance, and even force, its complexity and danger no less than a real battle.
But there was no joy of victory on Constantine's face.
His gaze returned to the sand table, as if the miniature mountains and rivers on it were the center of the world.
"Let's continue, Captain." Constantine's voice was calm and unwavering. "Next phase: infantry-artillery coordination tactics."
As he spoke, he reached out to adjust a small red flag representing an artillery company.
Alexandros stepped forward without saying a word, and respectfully placed another document beside Constantine.
That was a preliminary report of the nationwide military service physical examination.
Constantine's hand froze in mid-air.
He picked up the report and opened it.
The paper was thin, but the numbers on it were as heavy as mountains.
The first page of the report contains data on young men seeking employment in Athens and the surrounding area. While their height, weight, and lung capacity aren't top-tier, they're within the normal range.
He turned to the second page.
The data for the Ionian Islands showed a slight decrease.
Page 3.
In the Peloponnese, data declined again.
When he turned to the fourth page, his finger stopped.
The title of the fourth page is: Thessaly Region.
The numbers below, like bloody wounds, seared his eyes.
The average height of the young men who applied for the job was half a head shorter than that of the men in the Athens area.
On average, they lost a full fifteen pounds; almost everyone was skin and bones.
More than 40% of young people were diagnosed with various chronic diseases caused by long-term malnutrition.
The data is alarming.
The Thessalian Plain was Greece's breadbasket and the largest source of manpower for the Greek army.
The soldiers who emerged from here were emaciated and pale, barely able to hold a rifle steady.
Constantine closed the report, and the study fell silent.
Metaxas looked at the report, then at the military flags on the sand table that represented the future glory of Greece, and couldn't say a word.
No matter how ingenious the tactics or how advanced the weapons, they all require people to execute them.
If soldiers cannot even be guaranteed their most basic health, then everything else is just empty talk.
"Alexandros," Constantine began.
"Your Highness."
"Go and invite the Crown Princess here."
When the study door opened again, Sophia walked in. Seeing her husband's grave expression and the glaring report on the table, she knew what had happened.
Constantine took her hand and led her to the huge map of Greece.
His finger pointed to Smyrna on the opposite shore of the Aegean Sea.
"My dear, we are here, and we have won a war."
His voice was very low.
Then, his fingers slowly traced the ocean and landed on the vast green plain north of Athens.
Thessaly.
"But the farmers, who make up the largest proportion of our population, are the strongest and healthiest men, and they are the backbone of our army."
Constantine turned around and stared into Sophia's eyes.
"They are dying day after day on a battlefield we cannot see, a battlefield that is far more brutal."
"I need you to start a new war for me."
"A war within the country."
"A struggle waged in your name, armed with love and mercy."
A week later, a charity project personally initiated by Crown Princess Sofia attracted widespread attention in Athens.
The project's name is heartwarming—"Light of Hope" Rural Aid Project.
The plan’s stated objective was simple and noble: to fund a mission funded by the royal family, recruiting volunteer doctors and teachers to form an aid team that would travel deep into the remote Thessaly plains to provide the poor farmers there with basic medical care and literacy education.
The newspapers published a gentle photograph of Crown Princess Sofia visiting an orphanage, accompanied by her speech filled with humanistic concern: "Knowledge and health are the most equal rights that God has given to every Greek. We cannot allow our compatriots living in the nation's granaries to be forgotten in the corners of civilization."
The entire plan, from beginning to end, exuded royal benevolence and aristocratic elegance, without a trace of political fervor.
In the salons of Athenian high society, this became the latest topic of conversation.
"Have you heard? Our beautiful Crown Princess is going to teach those peasants to read and write. How... kind-hearted she is!" A countess wearing the latest Parisian gown covered her mouth with a handkerchief and let out a silvery laugh.
"Naive! Does she think a few bottles of aspirin and a few literacy textbooks can change that barren land? My ancestral estate is there, and I know better than anyone that those farmers are lazy and stupid." A member of parliament who lived off land dividends swirled the brandy in his glass, looking disdainful.
"This is just another political show by the royal family to win people's hearts. Spending a little money to gain a reputation for loving the people is a really good deal," a financier commented incisively.
"I bet within three months, those pampered doctors and teachers in Athens will be crying and begging to come back. They can't stand the stench and fleas in the countryside!"
"Poor peasants, they don't need any nonsense knowledge, they need bread and wine! Your Highness, you might as well just give them money directly."
Laughter and sarcasm mingled with the aroma of coffee and the smoke of cigars, permeating the upper air of Athens.
No one took this "princess's pastoral idyll" seriously.
The night before the plan was officially launched.
In a side hall of the palace, the lights were on.
Constantine secretly summoned all the core members involved in the "Light of Hope" project.
Standing here, there are doctors in white coats and teachers wearing glasses, but they all possess an upright posture and perseverance that sets them apart from ordinary office workers.
Some of them had the Alexandros Intelligence Agency badge in their breast pockets.
The other group consisted of the most loyal, cultured, and deeply resentful core members of the "Greek Workers' Welfare Association," selected from among the most loyal members.
Constantine stood before them, his gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping across every face.
He did not talk about kindness or charity.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" His voice wasn't loud, but it struck a chord clearly in everyone's hearts, "From tomorrow onwards, you are doctors, teachers, and royal envoys!"
"But from now on, you will have another identity—"
"My eyes!"
"My ears!"
He picked up a document from the table and waved it forcefully.
"I need you to record everything you see! Everything you hear!"
"I don't want a glamorous pastoral poem! What I want is the most authentic cry from the Thessalian plain! The blood and tears shed by the people there!"
He paused for a moment, then handed out special "teaching materials" to everyone.
It was a stack of beautifully printed questionnaires.
The header of the paper bears the royal coat of arms.
But the questions above are cold and sharp, like scalpels.
"What is the actual amount of wheat harvested by a tenant farmer family each year?"
"What was the exact percentage of the total harvest that was handed over to the landlords?"
"Besides the statutory tithe, are there any other surtaxes? For example: gratitude tax, mill tax, bridge tax, etc. Please list them in detail and indicate the amount."
"In the past three years, have there been any cases in the village where people were beaten, maimed, or even killed by the landlord's private armed forces for failing to pay land rent? Record the names of the victims, the time, and the location."
"Who is the nominal owner of the village's land? Who is the actual manager? Is the manager a distant relative or servant of the landlord?"
"..."
Every question points directly to the real festering wound beneath Thessalian idyllic mask.
Constantine looked at them, watching their expressions shift from shock to seriousness.
"Each questionnaire has a unique number. It's more important than your lives."
"Finish it. Bring it back."
"Your pens are the first sharp knife piercing the heart of the old world."
The next morning.
A large convoy of more than a dozen carriages drove out of Athens.
The carriage, adorned with the gold royal crest, gleamed in the morning light.
The convoy contained idealistic doctors, ambitious teachers, and iron-willed secret agents.
Carrying an open mission of benevolence and a top-secret, blood-soaked mission, they rolled toward the northern plains, a land said to flow with milk and honey but in reality with blood and tears.