novelSusiti Chapter 257 One Move Decides the Fate
Chapter 257 One Move Decides the Fate
The meeting room of Tatoy Palace was deathly silent, making it hard to breathe.
The double-headed eagle of the Austro-Hungarian Empire hovered like a ghost above everyone's head.
Russian military attaché Orlov's chest heaved violently, his grey eyes blazing with fury. Those Vienna bastards always stab Russia in the back at the most crucial moments!
German Ambassador Baron Schneider's brow remained furrowed as he rapidly calculated Berlin's reaction to the matter and how this would affect Germany's interests in the Balkans.
Sir Harding, the British ambassador, was the most displeased. He felt that his carefully planned hunt had not only failed to yield any prey, but had also been marred by infighting among the hunters, and now an uninvited beast had barged in.
The situation is completely out of control.
After a long silence, Constantine finally moved.
He slowly stood up.
Everyone's eyes followed his movements unconsciously.
He didn't look at any of the ambassadors, but turned to face the head of the long table, to his father, whose face was still pale.
Constantine straightened the hem of his military uniform, knelt on one knee, and gave King George I a standard, impeccable curtsy.
This action stunned everyone present.
This is not just a formality; it is a declaration.
He declared that every word he was about to say represented the Greek royal family and the highest will of the country.
After bowing, Constantine straightened up and turned back to the three ambassadors, each with their own ulterior motives.
His face conveyed a sense of relief and gratitude for surviving the ordeal, and his performance was flawless.
"Everyone, everyone!"
Constantine's voice was filled with exaggerated excitement.
"His Majesty Emperor Franz Joseph's wisdom and benevolence, like holy light, illuminated the fog of the Balkans!"
"His proposal is God's guidance for peace, a blessing to save us, the lambs struggling in the flames of war! We, Greece, have no reason to refuse!"
His voice was high-pitched and devout, every word filled with praise for Vienna.
Orlov's lips twitched, and a hint of suspicion flashed in Sir Harding's eyes.
This kid's attitude changed way too quickly.
Constantine gave them no time to think; he pressed the telegram to his chest, his tone extremely earnest.
"I am Constantine, Crown Prince of Greece!"
"On behalf of my father, His Majesty King George I, on behalf of the Greek army that fought valiantly, and on behalf of the Greek people who yearn for peace, I solemnly declare!"
He paused for a moment, pronouncing each syllable with perfect clarity.
"We are willing to accept the Austro-Hungarian Empire's peace mediation fully, immediately, and unconditionally, in order to save the Balkan people from the ravages of war and in response to His Majesty Emperor Joseph's noble goodwill!"
The words fell.
The three ambassadors present were all stunned.
Accepted?
Just accept it like that?
Comprehensive? Immediately? And unconditionally?
Orlov's fingers gripped the wine glass so tightly that they made a "crackling" sound; he almost crushed the glass.
Baron Schneider also looked up, his face filled with astonishment.
Sir Harding's mind went completely blank. He had anticipated that Constantine would use the intervention of Austria-Hungary to bargain, or use it as leverage to demand more benefits from him.
The only thing he didn't expect was that Constantine would accept it completely!
What exactly is going on here?
This kid just swallowed a pie that fell from the sky? Isn't he afraid of being poisoned?
King George I also looked bewildered. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seeing his son's calm profile, he swallowed his words.
Constantine was pleased with their reaction.
He wanted to disrupt everyone's rhythm in the most unexpected way.
He let the shock spread throughout the room.
Then, he spoke again slowly, as if adding an insignificant detail.
The devout and excited expression disappeared, and his voice became smooth as silk, so calm that not a ripple could be heard.
But every word carries an undeniable firmness.
"……certainly."
The moment those two words were uttered, Sir Harding's heart skipped a beat!
He knew the real show was about to begin!
Constantine's gaze slowly swept over everyone present, finally settling on the huge military map.
"Any sincere negotiation must be based on reality."
"We accept mediation out of respect for peace, not out of fear of defeat."
"Therefore, the only condition for our country to accept the mediation of Austro-Hungarian Empire is..."
He paused again, and everyone in the conference hall held their breath.
"Peace talks must take the current actual military control line between the two sides as the starting point for all territorial discussions."
General!
Even breathing could be clearly heard in the conference room.
The silence just now was merely a buffer in the stalemate.
The current stillness is like being soaked in ice.
The three ambassadors' faces froze instantly.
Their minds raced, repeatedly pondering Constantine's words.
Immediately, a chill ran from the tailbone of each of them straight to the top of their head!
poison!
That's incredibly toxic!
This move is like a scorpion's stinger—both venomous and cunning!
Constantine, by adopting a completely accepting stance of mediation, perfectly packaged himself as a peace envoy who loved peace and respected order, leaving no room for criticism.
However, his "sole precondition" meant that the Ottoman Empire had to admit defeat before even sitting down at the negotiating table!
Acknowledge the permanent loss of Epirus and Crete!
This wasn't negotiation; this was forcing the Ottoman Empire to sign a surrender document!
He packaged all the demands of a victor into a peace proposal!
All the pressure!
All the problems!
In that instant, it receded from Greece like a tide!
Then, it transformed into a colossal mountain, pressing down heavily and precisely on the head of the Sultan of Constantinople!
Now, it's Sudan's turn to have a headache.
If he refuses this "precondition", it is tantamount to rejecting the Austro-Hungarian Empire's "goodwill mediation". He will no longer be offending small Greece, but the powerful Austro-Hungarian Empire!
What would the Emperor of Vienna think?
If he accepts this "premise", then it will be even simpler.
He will become the first Ottoman monarch in centuries to cede vast territories to his former vassal, Greece, a shameful act.
His subjects and his army will tear him apart alive!
This is a dead end!
A perfect dead end that Constantine himself created for the Sultan!
Sir Harding's back was already soaked with cold sweat without him even realizing it.
He looked at Constantine, whose young face was calm.
He finally realized that he had been wrong from the very beginning.
He thought he was hunting down a lion cub.
In reality, he was facing a prehistoric crocodile that had already sharpened its claws and fangs and was an expert in all the tricks at the poker table!
Constantine met Sir Harding's shocked, angry, yet somewhat powerless gaze.
The corners of his mouth curved slightly.
He won.
In this diplomatic encirclement without the smoke of gunpowder, he not only emerged unscathed, but even turned the tables, using the contradictions between the great powers to turn their intervention into the final piece of the puzzle that secured his victory.
The battle at the poker table has now come to an end.
The next battleground will officially unfold at the conference table in London or Vienna.