novelSusiti Chapter 299 Silent Understanding
Chapter 299 Silent Understanding
Chapter 299 Silent Understanding
The atmosphere at Lancaster House the next day was as somber as ever, around the long conference table.
British Prime Minister Lord Salisbury leaned back in his chair, looking composed. In the folder in front of him lay the latest intelligence report on Greece's financial situation.
At the end of one's rope.
This is the assessment given by MI6.
He was prepared to deliver the final blow at today's meeting. With just a little more pressure, the agreement he spearheaded, which secured the British Empire's interests in the Mediterranean, would be signed smoothly.
He had even had his assistant prepare the guest list for the celebratory dinner.
The doors to the conference hall were pushed open.
Constantine and Venizelos walked in.
When the two appeared at the door, everyone in the conference room instinctively turned their gaze towards them.
Immediately, a look of confusion appeared on many people's faces.
Not right.
The lingering fatigue and anxiety that had been on the faces of the Greek delegation for days disappeared.
Instead, there is an almost leisurely composure.
Constantine didn't even go to his seat immediately, but went straight to the U.S. ambassador's side.
He patted the other man on the shoulder and began discussing with great interest the quality of a batch of cigars that had just arrived from Cuba. He spoke wittily and with a relaxed demeanor, as if he were attending a weekend party at a country club rather than a life-or-death negotiation that would determine the fate of his country.
The Marquess of Salisbury frowned almost imperceptibly.
The meeting began.
The French representative, the diplomat who always adopted the arrogant demeanor of a Gallic rooster, cleared his throat and launched the first attack.
In an arrogant tone, he reiterated that Greece must pay a symbolic reparations payment for "disrupting peace in the Balkans" as a way to appease the Ottoman Empire.
Everyone looked at Venizelos, waiting for his habitual, fierce rebuttal.
But this time, it was unexpected by everyone.
Venizelos simply pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
He looked around the room, even with a slight smile on his face.
"Regarding the issue of compensation," he began, his voice steady yet clear to everyone, "we can discuss it slowly, over ten or twenty days, until we reach a solution that satisfies everyone."
He paused for a moment, then dropped the real bombshell.
"The Kingdom of Greece has sufficient patience and adequate financial resources to support a protracted negotiation in order to achieve a truly just and lasting peace."
This sentence, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, stirred up ripples.
The arrogance on the French representative's face froze.
The British Prime Minister's eyes, which were always half-open and seemingly indifferent to everything, were now fully open.
They exchanged an incredulous look.
Where does the other party's confidence come from?
The decisive shift came from the German ambassador, Baron von Schneider, who had remained silent and seemingly detached from the matter.
When the Marquess of Salisbury tried to steer the conversation back on track, seeking German support for the "international co-management" of Crete in order to form a united front and completely crush Greece.
Baron von Schneider suddenly let out a affected, exaggerated cough.
He slowly took out a clean white silk handkerchief from his jacket pocket, removed his monocle, and carefully wiped it.
This action attracted the attention of everyone present.
"Your Excellency the Marquis," he said slowly, his German-accented English sounding somewhat stiff, "The German Empire certainly hopes that peace can be restored in the Balkans as soon as possible, that is beyond doubt."
He put his glasses back on, but his gaze was fixed on Constantine.
"But—stability trumps everything."
"Perhaps an overly harsh treaty could sow the seeds of future conflict. Shouldn't we avoid pushing our courageous Greek friends too hard?"
These words, like a precise surgical scalpel, severed the nerve called "tacit understanding" between the great powers.
It did not explicitly oppose Britain and France, but its ambiguous, admonitory stance instantly shattered the seemingly unbreakable united front.
The Russian ambassador, who had long harbored resentment towards Britain's monopoly on Mediterranean affairs, had a glint in his eye. He immediately seized the opportunity and followed up, saying, "Your Excellency is right. Perhaps we should reconsider the future of Crete more carefully."
The Marquess of Salisbury's face darkened inch by inch.
He stared intently at the pretentious German baron like a provoked lion, his eyes filled with a desire to devour him alive.
But he was helpless.
At the other end of the conference hall, Constantine's gaze met that of Baron von Schneider in mid-air.
The proud Prussian nobleman gave Constantine a very slight, almost imperceptible nod.
That was a tacitly understood signal.
A silent greeting from a new ally.
Constantine's lips also curved upwards in a subtle arc.
He knew that Wilhelm II's "business investment" would bring him far more than just five million gold marks.
More importantly, it brought him a heavyweight "ally" to this treacherous poker table, someone who could disrupt the opponent's playing rhythm at any time.
He has one more card.
The balance of power in this London poker game has begun to tip in his favor.