1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 24: Using the Empire's reputation to guarantee a drunkard's alcohol bill?

Constantine turned around, and the deep palace corridors swallowed the last rays of the setting sun.

In the side room, the flames flickered in the fireplace, casting a rosy glow on Ambassador Pierre de Cousseau's slightly plump face. He had already gone through his third glass of Bordeaux, his patience fading along with the alcohol.

The moment Constantine stepped into the side room, Pierre immediately sprang up from the sofa, his face beaming with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Oh, my dear Crown Prince! You have finally ended your conversation with that serious English friend!" He opened his arms as if to give Constantine a hug.

Constantine did not try to flatter the other party, but simply gave a polite smile before walking directly to the liquor cabinet and pouring himself a glass of water.

"Mr. Pierre," Constantine's voice rang out in the quiet room, "I express my heartfelt gratitude on behalf of the Kingdom of Greece for the five million francs you have brought."

Pierre's eyes lit up, and he was about to speak.

"But," Constantine raised his glass, gesturing towards the distance, "we cannot accept this."

The smile froze on Pierre's face.

"Why?" he blurted out. "It's an unconditional emergency loan!"

“It is precisely because it is ‘unconditional’,” Constantine turned and looked at him calmly, “that it has the most expensive condition. It will make my Prime Minister, Mr. Deriplis, and his friends believe that they can bypass the monarchy and reach certain agreements directly with your country. This will undermine the political stability of Greece, which is exactly what Greece needs right now.”

Constantine walked towards Pierre step by step, each step carrying an invisible sense of oppression.

"A divided Greece is not in France's interest. Isn't that right, Mr. Ambassador?"

Pierre's forehead was beaded with sweat; he understood the undisguised warning in Constantine's eyes. This young crown prince had not only refused his money, but was also clearly telling him—Athens had only one ruler.

"Then, Your Highness... what do you need?" Pierre's voice was much drier.

"I need France's patience." Constantine downed the water in his glass in one gulp. "To patiently await a stronger, more worthy Greece to become your true friend."

He put down the cup, making a crisp sound.

"Now, please excuse me. Today's meeting with Sir Harding has taken a heavy toll on my energy."

Pierre stood frozen in place, watching Constantine's departing figure, feeling like a clown who had meticulously prepared a grand performance only to find that the only audience member had already left.

The five million francs he brought weren't even enough to qualify him as a minimum stake in this game.

……

Meanwhile, undersea cables spanning Europe are transmitting coded messages that will determine the fate of nations at the speed of light.

Sir Harding's encrypted telegram, like a stone thrown into a calm lake, stirred up violent waves in the political heart of London—Downing Street and Whitehall.

Officials at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were extremely excited.

"A golden opportunity! With a single credit guarantee, we can completely lock Greece into our camp! And also curb the ambitions of the Russians and the French!"

"Crown Prince Constantine has demonstrated remarkable political acumen; he is an ally worth investing in!"

However, when the report was sent to the Ministry of Finance, it was met with cold ridicule.

Sir Reginald Wilby, Permanent Under-Secretary of State for the Treasury, was a man with high cheekbones and thin, razor-thin lips, known throughout the British bureaucracy for his rigidity and stinginess. He waved his report as if swatting a fly.

"Sovereign credit guarantee? For Greece? That country that can't even pay its civil servants' salaries?" He made no attempt to hide his disdain at the internal meeting. "This is simply the most absurd suggestion I've ever heard! Has Harding been blinded by the Athenian sun?"

He turned to the Chancellor of the Exchequer and said in his characteristically acerbic tone, "This is tantamount to using the credit of the British Empire to guarantee the next month's worth of drinks for a hopeless drunkard! He can promise to pay with a naval order today, and tomorrow he could sell the whole country to the Russians for another bottle of brandy!"

"Gentlemen, the Empire's reputation is a wealth we have accumulated over centuries with warships and gold! It cannot be mortgaged so lightly!"

The night was filled with heated debate, a clash between the Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ geopolitical ambitions and the Ministry of Finance’s obsession with the gold standard.

Finally, a preliminary compromise plan was sent back to Athens the following morning.

When Sir Harding's carriage stopped again in front of the palace, his face bore an undisguised look of embarrassment and exhaustion. He didn't even dare to look directly at Constantine, who had come to greet him.

In the reception room, there was still that oil painting "Battle of Salamis" and that cheap black pottery tea set.

Sir Harding took a document from his briefcase and slowly pushed it toward Constantine.

"Your Highness...this is London's initial response."

Constantine picked up the document and quickly scanned it.

The terms above are like poisoned needles, pricking one's eyes.

The UK has refused to provide sovereign credit guarantees.

However, "out of goodwill toward their allies," they are willing to provide an emergency short-term loan totaling £500,000.

Loan annual interest rate – up to 8%!

Furthermore, this loan must be secured by the two most stable and core sources of national revenue for the Kingdom of Greece—the national salt tax and tobacco tax!

Constantine's face was expressionless; he simply stared at the document, his fingers slowly tracing the cold paper.

Five hundred thousand pounds isn't even enough to pay off old debts that are about to come due.

An 8% interest rate is twice the normal market rate.

Using salt and tobacco taxes as collateral meant that the British Empire would send tax officials to directly control Greece's financial lifeline!

This is hardly aid.

This is clearly the most classic "vulture loan" in financial history! They don't believe Greece can repay the money at all. What they want is to pounce on Greece before this "corpse" collapses and tear off the fattest and tenderest piece of meat! They want to take advantage of the situation and turn Greece into a complete financial colony!

Sir Harding stared at Constantine's terrifyingly calm face, his mouth going dry. He tried to explain, "Your Highness, this is standard procedure at the Treasury, Sir Wilby, he..."

Constantine raised his hand to stop him.

He didn't lash out, didn't shout, and didn't even show a trace of anger.

He simply pushed the proposal, filled with insulting terms, back to Sir Harding with two fingers.

The movements were gentle, yet carried a resolute determination.

Constantine looked up at the restless British ambassador, a faint smile even appearing on his face.

"Sir," his voice was calm as still water, yet it sent a chill down Harding's spine, "please pass on a question to the gentlemen in London for me."

"Is the British Empire trying to help a future ally rise again?"

He paused, his gaze sharpening.

"Or do you simply want to spend half a million pounds to buy a corpse you can manipulate at will?"