novelSusiti Chapter 304 Riza's Epiphany
Chapter 304 Riza's Epiphany
Chapter 304 Riza's Epiphany
The night wind on the balcony rushed into Ahmed Riza's throat, icy cold.
Venizelos turned and left without the slightest hesitation, leaving him alone in the same spot, his thoughts in turmoil.
The exchange he had just experienced was still echoing in his mind.
The republican theories he had brought from his Parisian study, those golden rules about popular sovereignty and natural rights, were shattered one by one in front of the other side.
The other side did not use any more profound theories, but only the bloodiest and most irrefutable historical facts.
A century of turmoil in France.
The Jacobins' guillotine.
Napoleon's Crown.
The flames of the Paris Commune.
Every word Venizelos uttered was like a mirror, reflecting Ahmed Riza's deepest, most terrifying inner self, a reflection he himself dared not confront.
Could the Ottoman Empire withstand such turmoil?
When the Sultan's authority collapses, will the generals who hold military power obey the commands of these scholars?
will not.
They only treat the country as prey, tearing it to pieces and devouring it.
He was utterly dejected, his arms trembling as he supported himself. The entire ideal world he had built had been shattered by the harsh reality of the other party within just half an hour, leaving countless cracks in its surface.
He looked at the small, folded note on the railing.
It lay there quietly, like a Pandora's box.
Ahmed Riza reached out, his fingertips touching the edge of the paper. The icy touch sent a chill down his spine.
Just as he picked up the note and was about to turn and leave, he heard footsteps behind him.
Venizelos is back.
The Greek politician, who had disappeared sometime earlier, was now standing quietly behind him.
"Mr. Riza."
Venizelos's voice was low, no longer displaying the composure of a debater, but rather a sense of oppression befitting a conspirator.
"It is pointless for us to argue here about the merits of constitutional monarchy versus republicanism."
Ahmed Riza looked up at the other person, puzzled.
Venizelos's glasses reflected the light of the banquet hall, obscuring the expression in his eyes. His voice carried a chilling coldness, each word piercing Ahmed Riza's heart.
"Because the merits or demerits of any system require a strong and unified country to support it."
"A dying empire on the verge of being carved up by European powers, a empire that may not even be able to hold onto its own capital, has no right to discuss the future!"
"What you need most right now is not arguing about which system to use!"
Venizelos took a step forward, closing in on Ahmed Riza, his voice resolute.
"The priority is survival!"
Survive!
This word struck Ahmed Riza hard.
His face turned deathly pale instantly.
This is his deepest fear, the nightmare that wakes him up every midnight!
Yes, they're still in Parisian cafes, still at negotiating tables in London, debating the future of the nation. But does this nation even have a future?
The British are keeping an eye on Egypt and the Straits.
The Russians were eyeing the Caucasus and Constantinople.
The French are keeping a close eye on Syria.
The Germans and the Austro-Hungarian Empire also wanted a piece of the Balkan scraps.
The Ottoman Empire was like a cow lying in a slaughterhouse, with everyone holding knives, figuring out where to cut the biggest piece of meat.
These "Young Turks" are nothing more than a swarm of flies around a cow, trying to shoo away the butcher—laughable and pathetic.
Ahmed Riza swayed and leaned against the stone railing behind him to keep from falling.
He felt suffocation.
Just then, Venizelos took another step closer.
He spoke his last words in a voice that was almost a whisper, a voice only the two of them could hear.
Those words enlightened Ahmed Riza and dispelled all his confusion.
"My sovereign believes," Venizelos's voice pierced his ears clearly, "that a unified, stable Turkey, which no longer looks to the Balkans and the Aegean, is not a bad thing for Greece."
After saying that, Venizelos turned around again.
This time, he didn't linger, and his figure quickly disappeared behind the banquet hall door.
Ahmed Riza was the only one left on the balcony.
He stood frozen in place, stunned for a long time in the cold wind.
Every word of that sentence was echoing repeatedly in his mind.
No longer focusing on the Balkans and the Aegean Sea —
What does this mean?
This means that what the Greek Crown Prince wants is not a fragmented and vulnerable Ottoman Empire.
What he wants is a Türkiye that relinquishes its European territories and retreats back to Anatolia!
He wanted to cut off the Ottomans' reach into Europe!
The sheer volume of information overwhelmed Ahmed Riza, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.
He trembled, lowered his head, and looked at the slightly damp piece of paper he was clutching tightly in his hand.
His fingers turned white from the force, and it took him several tries to unfold the thin strip of paper.
There wasn't a single word on the note.
There was only one extremely rough sketch drawn with a pen.
In the center of the painting is a lion.
But the lion was emaciated, its fur was falling out, and it lay lifeless on the ground, without even the strength to open its eyes.
Around the old lion, a pack of jackals are depicted, baring their teeth and drooling, as they approach step by step, ready to pounce and tear the old lion to pieces at any moment.
In the corner of the picture, there is also a drawn sword.
The sword's edge was not aimed at that dying old lion.
It was not the greedy jackals surrounding it!
The moment Ahmed Riza saw the painting clearly, he held his breath.
He got it.
He understood everything!
"The old chains have broken, but the new master has not yet arrived."
"The Sultan's palace is very large, but it cannot accommodate monarchs from two different eras."
Venizelos's warning about "survival".
And the final suggestion to "no longer turn our attention to the Balkans".
Everything was connected at this moment by this simple picture!
The old lion is the corrupt Ottoman Empire!
The jackals were none other than the covetous European powers like Britain, France, Russia, and Austria!
And that sword—
That sword is Greece!
The Greek Crown Prince's meaning couldn't be clearer!
He can help the fledgling, still-growing "Young Turks" party to defend itself against the wolves that surround it and to gain a chance to survive.
But all of this has one premise.
That is, this lion must stay on the plains of Anatolia forever!
It must relinquish the forests of the Balkans, the islands of the Aegean, and all of Europe's territory!
Trade territory for survival!
Sacrifice your life for a better future!
This is the price offered to him by Greek Crown Prince Constantine I!
The thought burned Ahmed Riza's heart.
Pain, humiliation, and a glimmer of hope—an irrepressible hope born from despair.
He gripped the note tightly in his palm; the thin paper was almost crushed by his hand.