1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 219 The Kaiser's "Family Greetings"

Germany.

William II.

These two words seemed to possess a certain magic, instantly chilling the atmosphere that had just warmed up in the conference room.

The meticulous and discerning Germans, of course, also had their eyes and ears regarding Greece. After hearing the gist of the conversation between the Greek Crown Prince and the British intelligence advisor stationed in Greece, the arrogant Wilhelm II naturally sent someone to stir up trouble.

The rosy glow on Prime Minister Trikoupis's face quickly faded, returning to its previous pallor. Everyone present understood a simple truth: British support was ambiguous, tacitly approved, and could be openly denied. The German Emperor's personal letter, however, would be explicit, public, and an unquestionable "command" bearing the iron will of Prussia.

King George I's face turned extremely grim. He slowly sat back on his throne, his straight back stiffening slightly. Britain was a distant maritime superpower, while Germany was the arbiter of the European continent. More importantly, that emperor was the brother of his daughter-in-law, Sophia.

This is no longer simply international politics; it is a family warning intertwined with complex royal lineages.

Before the king could speak, the door to the conference room had already been opened from the outside by attendants.

Baron von Schneider, the German Second Reich Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to Greece, strode in amidst the deathly silence.

He wore a perfectly tailored black tailcoat, several medals pinned to his chest, and his gaze behind his monocle was sharp and cold. He first walked to the conference table and bowed gracefully to King George I, his movements as precise as a textbook.

Then, he straightened up and glanced contemptuously at Constantine standing to the side. Finally, his gaze settled on the open military map marked with sharp attack arrows.

"His Majesty."

Baron Schneider spoke, his Greek heavily accented with a Prussian lilt, each syllable like the sound of iron boots on the floor, arrogant yet tinged with a feigned concern.

"By order of His Majesty Wilhelm II, the great Emperor of the German Empire, my master, I extend my warmest family greetings to you and to his beloved sister, Crown Princess Sofia."

He emphasized the phrase "family greetings".

All the Greek ministers present sensed a strong threat in those four words.

Baron Schneider took a folder wrapped in black leather from his accompanying military attaché. With his white-gloved hand, he solemnly took out a letter. On the envelope was the Hohenzollern family's bright red wax seal, and the Prussian eagle with outstretched wings seemed to break free from the envelope and strangle everyone.

"His Majesty the Emperor's personal letter."

He handed the letter to the chief steward of the palace.

King George I raised his hand, his voice hoarse: "Read it."

With trembling hands, the steward opened the envelope and read the contents of the letter aloud in an almost judgmental tone.

The letter was worded more harshly than I had imagined.

Wilhelm II, in the capacity of a peacekeeper for Europe, first expressed his "deep concern" about the tensions in the Balkans. Then, in the tone of an elder brother, he strongly "advised" the Kingdom of Greece to "exercise maximum restraint" and "cherish the hard-won peace."

Finally, the letter ends with the revelation of the true intentions.

"...Any unilateral military adventure that disrupts the status quo in the Balkans will be considered a blatant provocation against the existing European order. The German Empire and its allies will not stand idly by, and the party that instigates the conflict will bear all the serious consequences arising therefrom."

I've finished reading it.

The conference room was deathly silent.

If the Prime Minister's previous worries were dark clouds, then this letter was a bolt of lightning that struck directly on the roof of the palace.

The Chancellor's legs began to give way uncontrollably, and he almost collapsed into his chair. Just moments before, he had been calculating the gains of the war, but now only the words "serious consequences" remained in his mind.

Those generals who had clamored to teach the Turks a lesson were now bowing their heads, like a group of scolded schoolchildren. No one dared to bear the wrath of the German Emperor. That meant the withdrawal of the German military advisory group, the inability to purchase a single Krupp cannon, and the complete cessation of loans from Deutsche Bank.

That would be the end of Greece.

King George I gripped the armrests of the throne tightly with both hands, his knuckles turning a horrifying pale white from the excessive force.

He was caught in a dilemma with no solution.

One step forward, and the thunderous fury of the German Empire.

Taking a step back means the nation's hopes, just ignited by their son, and a tremendous victory within their grasp.

What should he choose?

Constantine remained standing there, expressionless. He stared at the letter, at Baron Schneider's triumphant arrogance, at his father's painful struggle, without uttering a word.

The entire highest power center in Greece was suffocating under the weight of this letter from Berlin.

In this deathly silence.

"Knock knock".

Two soft, untimely knocks sounded particularly abrupt in the deathly silence.

Everyone was startled by the sound and turned to face the door.

A female official's voice timidly rang out from outside the door:

"Your Majesty... Her Highness the Crown Princess has brought you and your ministers hot coffee."

Coffee delivery?

At this time?

A look of absurdity crossed everyone's faces. The King's council was deciding the fate of the nation, and now the Crown Princess was here to deliver coffee?

Baron Schneider's lips curled up almost imperceptibly. He believed that this was the Prussian princess expressing her support for her brother's will in her own way, reminding her husband and father-in-law not to forget their place.

A flicker of annoyance crossed King George I's face. But as he looked at the frozen stalemate before him, a different thought arose within him.

He wanted to see what kind of expression his daughter-in-law, the princess from Prussia and Wilhelm II's younger sister, would have at this moment.

He waved wearily.

"Let her in."