novelSusiti Chapter 178 A Late-Night "Heart-to-Heart Talk"
Chapter 178 A Late-Night "Heart-to-Heart Talk"
Night falls.
The parliament building was brightly lit, yet as silent as a vast tomb. Outside, in Constitution Square, the crowds hadn't dispersed. They lit torches, thousands upon thousands of lights merging into a sea of stars, illuminating the parliament building as if it were daytime. The silent siege continued.
Immense pressure, like the pressure of deep-sea water, was squeezing this isolated island from all sides. The seemingly unbreakable alliance of the oligarchic groups began to crack from within.
The atmosphere in the small conference room was extremely tense.
"Dragaces! This is all your idea!" A merchant councilor from Port Patras finally erupted, "What kind of delaying tactic is this! Now look what's happened, we're all stuck here!"
"What's the point of saying all this now?" another landowner councilor retorted. "We're all in the same boat now!"
"Who's on your side! Your estates are in Thessaly, your hands are stained with blood! My business is in the port, I've only voted against it a few times!"
Arguments, complaints, and accusations rose and fell. Those lower-ranking members of parliament, whose crimes were less serious and whose ties to the core landowning groups were less close, began to waver. Fear is the best divisive agent. Looking out the window at the silent sea of people and the gleaming bayonets, they felt for the first time how close death was.
De La García sat in the main seat, his face ashen, saying nothing. He knew his team was falling apart.
Just then, the conference room door was pushed open.
Alexandros Dimitriopoulos, Crown Prince Constantine's chief aide and head of the Royal Intelligence Service, appeared silently at the door like a ghost.
He was dressed in a crisp royal guard officer's uniform, his face expressionless. Behind him followed two equally expressionless guards.
"Good evening, gentlemen." Alexandros's voice was soft, yet it instantly silenced the entire conference room.
He ignored De Lagasse and instead took out a list from his pocket, scanning it with his eyes.
"By order of His Highness Crown Prince Constantine, I have invited several members of parliament to the palace to discuss state affairs."
He began to read the names.
"Member of Parliament Nicolas Antoniadis."
The one whose name was called was none other than the shipping merchant councilor from Patras. He trembled, and all the color drained from his face.
"Congressman Dimitrios Macris".
"Congressman Constantinos Valvaresos".
……
Alexandros read out more than a dozen names in a row. Everyone whose name was called looked ashen-faced. Those whose names weren't called looked at their "colleagues" with a complex mix of relief and envy.
This move was extremely ruthless. Constantine didn't even need a trial; the "invitation" alone completely tore the oligarchic group in two.
"I'm not going!" the congressman named Antoniadis shouted, mustering his courage. "According to parliamentary immunity, no one can..."
Alexandros looked up at him quietly, interrupting him.
"His Highness said he's just going for a cup of tea. Of course, you can also choose to stay here with Speaker De La Garcez and wait for tomorrow."
He emphasized the words "with Speaker De La Garcez".
Representative Antoniadis's lips trembled. Finally, he slumped down, stood up, and like a walking corpse, followed the guards outside.
With someone taking the lead, the rest offered no further resistance. A dozen or so "swing" members of parliament, called out by name, walked out of the meeting room under the murderous glares of De La Garcez and the other core oligarchs.
Royal Palace, Study.
Constantine was not in military uniform, but only in a loose silk casual dress. A warm fireplace burned in the study, and a bottle of fine French red wine sat on the table.
The first person brought in was Representative Antoniadis.
He was still trembling slightly when he entered the study.
"Good evening, Mr. Antoniadis." Constantine stood up, a gentle smile even on his face. He personally picked up the wine bottle and poured the congressman a glass of red wine. "Please sit down, don't be so formal."
This amicable attitude, in stark contrast to the tense atmosphere outside the parliament, made Antoniadis even more uneasy.
He sat down awkwardly, unsure of what to do with his hands.
"Mr. Congressman, I know you've been having a lot of troubles lately." Constantine sat back down in his seat, without beating around the bush.
He casually pulled a thin folder from a stack of documents on the table and gently pushed it in front of Antoniadis.
"This is a list of your 'minor troubles' compiled by the General Intelligence Bureau," Constantine's voice was warm yet dangerous, like the fire in a fireplace. "Perhaps I can help you resolve them."
Antoniadis's gaze fell on the folder as if he had spotted a venomous snake.
His hands trembled as he reached out and opened the folder.
There was no torture or forced confession as one might imagine, nor any serious crimes of treason or collusion with the enemy.
The first page was a copy of a receipt. A receipt from the Monte Carlo casino for a massive gambling debt of 500,000 drachmas. That amount would have bankrupted him instantly.
The second page contained a letter. It was a letter he had written to his mistress, filled with explicit and nauseating language, and it also mentioned his intention to abandon his wife, who came from a prestigious family. If this letter were to be exposed, his reputation in high society would be completely ruined.
Page three contained a copy of a contract. A secret contract he had signed with a British shipping company. According to the contract, he used his position as a member of parliament to help the company evade substantial taxes in its port operations in Greece, receiving hefty kickbacks in return. This alone was enough to land him in jail.
Antoniadis looked into the prince's calm eyes, then glanced down at the folder on the table that would decide his fate. Cold sweat soaked his shirt, but besides fear, a strange sense of absurdity welled up inside him.
He thought of his grandfather, the figure who had navigated the Mediterranean against the Ottomans in a rudimentary captured warship during the War of Independence; he remembered his father's words when entrusting the business to him: "The family fleet must uphold the traditions of the 'Romans,' flying the flag of independence, sailing on every sea." And what about himself? For the sake of a so-called ticket to high society, he had associated with the likes of De La Garcees, a bunch of fools who only knew how to squeeze oil from the land, even at the cost of opposing the Crown Prince. He looked at Constantine, this young prince who was doing what his grandfathers had only dared to dream of. Fear and shame intertwined, crushing his last line of defense.
Constantine, however, did not look at him. The prince simply picked up his wine glass, gently swirling the deep red liquid inside, his gaze seemingly piercing through the walls, fixed on the flickering firelight of the night sky outside the window.
"Mr. Antoniadis," his voice was soft, with a touch of distant lament, "the people outside the window need a hero to lead them toward the light."
He turned back, his gaze falling on Antoniadis's pale face.
"I just want to know," he raised his glass in a toast, "would you rather be the hero, or the subject of this file?"
Constantine gave no orders and made no threats.
He simply presented a multiple-choice question that could not be refused and required no answer.
Antoniadis looked into the prince's calm eyes, then looked down at the folder on the table that would determine his fate. He felt his throat go dry and couldn't utter a single word.
"Cheers," Constantine said softly, "to the bright future of Greece."
Antoniadis raised his head, his hands trembling as he lifted his wine glass, not to the prince, but to the bright moon in the night sky outside the window, and murmured to himself, "For Greece." He then downed the glass of red wine in one gulp.