1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 284 Thank you for your honesty

Chapter 284 Thank you for your honesty

Count Carnogi's "sincere" words made the atmosphere in the study heavy. The smoke from the cigars mingled with the heat from the fireplace, surrounding Constantine.

That generous promise, that "goodwill" from the rulers of the old world, came like a warm, thick fur coat. But the lining of the coat was filled with cold iron nails.

Constantine's composure was broken.

He was first taken aback, then that astonishment turned into a complex contemplation. He stood up from the sofa, not responding to the count's words, but pacing back and forth in front of the huge Balkan map.

His leather shoes stomped on the soft Persian carpet without making a sound.

The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace and his own steady breathing.

He walked to the map, his finger lightly tracing the mountains of Epirus, then pausing above the azure outline of Crete. His brow was furrowed, clearly struggling with an internal conflict. He was weighing the options, calculating, and making a decision.

Count Carnoki did not make a sound to disturb them.

He stood quietly to the side, a knowing smile on his face. He admired the scene before him. This young Greek crown prince, like all monarchs from small countries, revealed the confusion and greed typical of his age in the face of immense temptation and potential threats.

He believed that the seed of "divide and conquer" had been successfully planted in the other person's heart. Now, all that was left was to wait for it to take root and sprout.

After a long while, Constantine stopped.

He turned to face Count Carnoki, his eyes filled with the weariness of struggle and the relief of having made a decision.

"Your Excellency, Earl." His voice was somewhat hoarse.

He strode up to Carnoki, extended his hands, and solemnly grasped the other's. His hands were warm and strong.

"Thanks you."

"Thank you for your honesty, and even more so for your valuable advice."

Constantine looked directly into the Earl's eyes, his sincerity seemingly enough to move anyone.

"The questions you raised, the specter of Stefan Duchamp, the ambitions of Belgrade—these are indeed the enormous hidden dangers that Greece will have to face for the next century after winning its independence."

"Before, I was blinded by victory and never considered the future of the Balkans from this perspective. It was you who sounded the alarm for me."

He gripped the count's hand tightly, as if to convey all his gratitude.

"Please allow me, allow Greece, to seriously and carefully consider your suggestion. This concerns the future of our nation, and I cannot give you a hasty reply. But I assure you, Athens has received Vienna's goodwill."

This performance was absolutely perfect.

The character of a young monarch, awakened by a shrewd politician, suddenly realizes the truth, yet hesitates to immediately express his opinion due to the gravity of the matter, is vividly portrayed.

Count Carnoki's last remaining doubts vanished completely.

He patted Constantine's hand in return, his smile growing even more loving.

"Of course, of course, my lord. This is a decision that requires wisdom and courage. The Habsburg dynasty has enough patience to wait for a true friend."

The dinner party concluded successfully in such a warm, friendly, and tacitly understanding atmosphere.

Earl Carnoki personally escorted Constantine to the embassy entrance, watching the Greek delegation's carriage disappear into the London night fog.

He turned and returned to his brightly lit official residence, feeling quite pleased with himself.

In his view, tonight's gains far outweighed a day of arguing at the negotiating table.

That wedge, forged from historical fears and contemporary interests, has been firmly driven into the seemingly solid body of the Balkan Union by his own hands.

He could almost hear the sound of bones cracking inside that body.

Back in the carriage at the Greek residence.

The carriage was pitch black, with only the light from the gas lamps outside the windows occasionally brushing across Constantine's profile, casting fleeting shadows.

He leaned back in the soft chair, closed his eyes, and remained silent.

-

The complex expression of emotion, surprise, and contemplation he had displayed at the Austro-Hungarian embassy had vanished without a trace. Now, his face was cold and hard, like a frozen lake.

The carriage traversed the damp streets of London and finally came to a stop in front of the mansion.

Alexandros opened the car door for him, and a rush of cold air filled the car.

Constantine stepped down from the carriage, walked through the hall, and headed towards his study. The guards standing at the door opened the door for him.

In his study, Venizelos sat on a single sofa by the fireplace, holding a thick Roman law code. He wasn't reading; he was simply waiting.

He looked up when he heard footsteps.

Constantine took off his coat and tossed it onto the back of his chair. He walked to the liquor cabinet, and without calling for a waiter, picked up a bottle of brandy and poured himself a full glass.

The amber-colored liquor swirls in the glass.

He downed the drink in one gulp. The spicy liquid slid down his throat, bringing a burning warmth.

"What did he say?"

Venizelos spoke, his calm voice breaking the silence in the room.

Constantine set down his glass with a soft "clink." He walked to the fireplace, stretched out his hand, and warmed it against the flames.

Then, he repeated Count Carnoki’s entire speech, from the phrase “the jewel of Byzantium” to the final “strong support,” word for word, every nuance of tone.

Silence fell over the study once again.

Venizelos listened quietly. When Constantine finished speaking, his serious face suddenly twitched.

He let out a short, cold laugh that came out of his nose.

"Typical Habsburg diplomacy. Arrogant and conceited."

He took off his gold-rimmed glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief. "They always view the world the way they view the noisy peoples within their own country. They always assume that all monarchs are like them, short-sighted, only seeing a few pieces of territory and short-term family interests."

He put his glasses back on, his eyes sharp and piercing.

"He treated us like two stupid dogs that would tear each other apart over a bone."

Constantine turned around, leaned against the warm fireplace, and poured himself another half glass of brandy.

He leaned back on the sofa, his long, slender fingers rhythmically twirling the glass in his hand.

"He wasn't offering an olive branch."

Constantine's voice was as cold as ice.

"That's a chain."

"He wants us to give up the future of the entire Balkans for a few pitiful cities in southern Epirus, for a vague Cretan sovereignty. He wants us to become the Austro-Hungarian Empire's dog to keep Serbia in check in the south."

"Once we actually nodded and accepted this goodwill," we would have simultaneously lost Serbia, our only reliable ally on land, and Tsarist Russia, a potentially vital but greedy source of support.

"At that time, Greece's future will depend entirely on Vienna's whims. Count Carnoki may support us today to win us over, but tomorrow he may join forces with the Turks to put us back to our original state in order to put us in a bad light."

Venizelos stood up and walked over to Constantine, his eyes filled with excitement.

"So, Your Highness, how should we respond to this 'kind' Earl?"

Constantine finished the rest of the wine in his glass.

He stood up and strode over to the huge Balkan map.

"A response? No."

He curled his lip, his expression cold and stern.

"We should make use of him."

"He wants to play with fire, so we'll make the fire burn even brighter."

He stretched out his finger and traced it across the map, from Vienna through Athens, finally landing heavily on the location of Belgrade.