1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 282 The Shadow of the Danube

Chapter 282 The Shadow of the Danube

The Marquess of Salisbury stormed off, officially bringing the first round of clashes at Lancaster House to a close. The heavy oak door wasn't fully closed yet, and the people in the meeting hall finally relaxed their tense backs.

The battlefield of London has never been confined to a single building or a conference table. That evening, as darkness enveloped St. James's Park, mansions, clubs, and private salons of all sizes eagerly lit up. The real battle began amidst the clinking of crystal glasses and the melodious strains of violins.

Austrian Embassy in London.

This was a banquet held under the guise of "celebrating His Majesty the Emperor's name day." The air was filled with the scents of expensive French perfumes, Cuban cigars, and hot wax. Men in tailcoats and women in gorgeous dresses moved among them, conversing in hushed tones, feather fans fluttering at their temples, and diamond earrings reflecting a cold light under the lamps.

Count Carnoki, the Austro-Hungarian Foreign Minister, stood beside a massive Corinthian column. He held a glass of deep red Tokaji wine, the liquid swirling gently in the glass, reflecting his somber, sharply defined face. He ignored the fawning ladies, his gaze piercing through the crowd, fixed firmly on two small groups not far away.

At the center of the circle was Greek Crown Prince Constantine. He was speaking in hushed tones with the French ambassador, while Venizelos stood beside him, occasionally interjecting a word or two, eliciting a knowing chuckle from the Frenchman.

The other circle was even more boisterous. The Serbian minister, a tall, square-chinned middle-aged man serving as an observer at the conference, was raising his glass high. Beside him stood Vasily Orlov, the military attaché from the Russian embassy.

"For the great victory of our Orthodox brothers!" The Serbian ambassador's voice boomed, filled with undisguised triumph.

"For the glory of the Slavic people!" Captain Orlov responded in his even more rugged voice, stretching out his thick arm and patting the Serbian ambassador heavily on the shoulder.

"Bang!"

The two heavy crystal glasses collided, making a crisp sound.

The sharp sound made Count Carnoki's eardrums ache. Watching the two men down their drinks, their faces beaming with the same kind of fanatical smiles, Count Carnoki's throat tightened.

The Danube Monarchy, a vast empire pieced together from more than a dozen ethnic groups, more than a dozen languages, and countless contradictions and hatreds, is like an ancient mansion infested with termites. And outside its weakest southern wall, two ferocious beasts are rapidly growing.

One side was Serbia. This "Balkan wolf cub," from the day it was born, never took its eyes off the Croatians and Slovenes within the empire who spoke the same language and believed the same faith. Every politician in Belgrade dreamed of a unified, Yugoslavian empire.

And now, another Greek lion has emerged. It has just displayed its sharp claws to the world with a resounding victory. Behind it stand, too, fervent believers who are still obsessed with the Byzantine dream.

If these two forces were to unite, with St. Petersburg providing weapons and gold from behind—

Count Carnoki's eyelids twitched. He couldn't picture it. It was the end of the empire. The palaces of Vienna would be reduced to ashes in the flames of Yugoslav nationalism.

No.

This must not be allowed to happen.

A thought quickly became clear in his mind, which was filled with anxiety and fear.

Divide them. They must be divided.

He downed the sweet Tokaji in one gulp, as if it were not wine but some kind of potion that gave him strength. He straightened his tie, put on a gentle and learned smile, and strode slowly through the crowd toward the Greek circle surrounded by Frenchmen.

"Good evening, Your Highness." His voice was warm and gentle, with just the right amount of enthusiasm. "This afternoon, Mr. Venizelos's speech was truly breathtaking. Legal principles and passion were perfectly integrated in him."

Constantine turned to face the powerful minister from Vienna. He returned a polite smile: "Your Excellency is too kind. We are merely stating a fact that has been forgotten for far too long."

Count Carnoki did not continue the conversation. Instead, he spoke of the latest opera being performed in Vienna's Golden Hall, the new Chinese porcelain added to Schönbrunn Palace, and the amusing anecdote of His Majesty the Emperor's bear hunt in the Tyrolean mountains. His speech was witty and elegant, every anecdote flowing effortlessly from his lips, as erudite as a university professor rather than a foreign minister wielding imperial power.

He subtly showcased the profound cultural heritage and long history of the Habsburg dynasty through this seemingly casual conversation.

Constantine listened quietly, occasionally nodding in agreement. His responses were impeccable, demonstrating respect for an elder without revealing the slightest hint of obsequiousness.

But out of the corner of his eye, he clearly caught a tiny, unintentional movement by Count Carnoki.

When the word "hunting" was mentioned, the count's gaze, almost imperceptibly, drifted towards the Serbian envoy.

That glance flashed by, yet it carried a clear direction.

Constantine felt a chill run down his spine.

This was a meticulously prepared hunt. And the old hunter from Vienna was hinting at the location of another prey.

He exchanged a glance with Venizelos beside him.

Venizelos was looking down at the champagne bubbles in his glass, and he simply pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses.

A signal that only the two of them could understand.

"Your Highness," Count Karnoki's voice lowered, carrying a sense of intimate sharing of a secret, "your military prowess reminds me of the greatest general in Austrian history, Prince Eugene. He too defeated the mighty Turks on the lands of the Balkans."

He paused, his tone becoming more meaningful.

"However, in my view, the situation in the Balkans today is far more complex than that of the Turks back then."

Constantine's smile remained unchanged: "I'd like to hear more."

As the party drew to a close, guests began to say their goodbyes.

Just as Constantine was about to turn and leave, one of Count Carnoki's attendants appeared silently beside him.

The attendant, dressed in a crisp uniform, held a tray with an invitation made of fine materials and gilded edges.

"Your Highness." The attendant bowed, his voice so low that only Constantine could hear it.

"Your Excellency, I would like to invite you to an informal private dinner at our embassy tomorrow evening."

The attendant glanced at the noisy crowd around him.

"There are some things that His Excellency the Earl believes are not convenient to say in a crowded place."

Constantine reached out and accepted the heavy gift. The paper felt smooth and cool to the touch.

He looked up, his face displaying a perfectly timed expression of surprise and honor.

"Please tell His Excellency the Count," he said to the attendant, his voice not loud, but loud enough for Carnogi beside him to hear, "that I am honored."

After speaking, he handed the invitation to Alexandros behind him and turned to walk towards the door. The cold London fog poured in through the open door, carrying a biting chill.