novelSusiti Chapter 321 The Most Generous Chapter Report
Chapter 321 The Most Generous Chapter Report
Chapter 321 The Greatest Reward
That morning, the telephone switchboard at 10 Downing Street experienced unprecedented chaos. The Prime Minister's office telephone lines were frantically connecting to the Admiralty, the Foreign Office, and embassies across the European continent at an unprecedented frequency.
Everyone who received the call could feel the elderly prime minister's suppressed, almost uncontrollable anger through the receiver.
The Mediterranean Fleet received new orders, and its previously slow speed suddenly increased. Thick black smoke billowed from the chimneys of the steel behemoths, leaving a long and threatening trail on the sea.
However, just as the entire European diplomatic community anticipated a new storm was brewing, and bookmakers were even offering odds on whether Britain would shell the port of Piraeus, a black carriage without any insignia silently emerged from the side door of the Greek delegation's residence, passed through the London morning mist, and drove straight into the backyard of 10 Downing Street.
There were no reporters, no honor guard, and not even any official welcoming personnel.
Constantine stepped down from the carriage alone. He wore a well-tailored dark suit and carried no documents. A silent servant led him through a long corridor, finally stopping before a heavy oak door.
This is the Prime Minister's private study.
The door opened. Gone were the heated debates of the meeting hall, and the insincere pleasantries of the diplomatic stage. The room was warm, the fireplace crackling softly. The air was filled with the mingled scents of old books, cigars, and whiskey.
The Marquess of Salisbury sat in a single armchair by the fireplace. He wasn't wearing his signature black tuxedo, but only a comfortable casual robe. He had taken off his reading glasses, and his once sharp eyes were now bloodshot, revealing an unbearable weariness. This old man, who controlled the world's largest empire, seemed to have aged ten years overnight.
He didn't get up, but simply raised his hand and pointed to another sofa opposite him.
Constantine calmly walked over and sat down. A low table separated them, on which sat a perfectly set of black tea.
Salisbury didn't beat around the bush. He leaned back against the soft sofa, as if even speaking was a huge drain on his energy.
"Your Highness, we all know that your country and the Russians have reached some understandings."
His voice was hoarse, lacking its usual arrogance, and sounded more like a confirmation after the fact.
"The British Empire has no intention of interfering in your country's choice of friends." The old man picked up his teacup but did not drink it, instead rubbing the warm surface of the cup with his fingers. "However, the current state of the Dardanelles Strait is the cornerstone of peace in Europe and must not be shaken."
Constantine remained silent, listening attentively. He knew that the fact that they had invited him here meant the forged document had served its purpose. The menacing Mediterranean fleet now seemed more like a bargaining chip than a call to war.
Salisbury set down his teacup, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Constantine, and presented his new price—a price brimming with immense allure, enough to drive any Greek patriot mad.
"The British side can agree to your final proposal."
He spoke each word clearly and deliberately.
"Greece will formally acquire full legal sovereignty over the entire island of Crete, as well as southern Epirus, including the valley you insist on."
The only sound in the room was the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace. These terms far exceeded Greece's most optimistic pre-war expectations. This was the most glorious diplomatic victory Greece had ever achieved since its independence. Crete, that land suspended in the Mediterranean, a place that had haunted the dreams of generations of Greeks, was finally about to return to its mother's embrace.
Salisbury stared intently at every subtle change in Constantine's expression, trying to catch a glimpse of elation or excitement. But he was disappointed. The young prince's face remained calm, as if he had only heard an insignificant weather forecast.
This composure beyond his years made the Marquis of Salisbury's heart sink even further. He became even more convinced that the other party must be holding an even bigger trump card from the Russians.
He took a deep breath and stated the terms of the exchange.
"In return, the Kingdom of Greece must immediately and publicly declare that it will always respect and commit to maintaining the existing international treaties and status quo in the Straits region."
"Furthermore," he emphasized, "Greece needs to sign a new, legally binding Freedom of Navigation Agreement in the Mediterranean with the British Empire, as allies, to jointly ensure peace and stability in the Eastern Mediterranean."
See the picture poorly.
This was the Marquess of Salisbury's true objective. He wanted more than just a verbal promise. He wanted a written alliance, a legal shackle that would completely bind Greece to the British Empire's war machine, a way to contain the Russian Black Sea Fleet. He wanted Greece to become the new "gatekeeper" of the British Empire in the Eastern Mediterranean.
Constantine was overjoyed, but for the first time, his face showed difficulty and struggle.
He picked up the teacup, took a small sip, and the scalding tea seemed to calm him down somewhat. He put the teacup down with a soft sound.
Then, he sighed.
That sigh was filled with bitterness and helplessness.
"Your Excellency Marquis, you have put me in a difficult position."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an indescribable weariness, as if he had been holding on for too long and was finally about to give out.
"The Russians gave us real support. In Athens, when things were most difficult, it was their gold that stabilized our finances, and at the negotiating table, it was their diplomats who spoke up for us."
Constantine gazed at the flickering flames in the fireplace, a hint of bewilderment in his eyes.
"And you—all you gave us before was a fleet and threats."
He turned to look at Salisbury, his blue eyes filled with genuine confusion.
"I have betrayed our friends like this," my people, my army, would surely not agree. They would say their crown prince is a treacherous villain. They would ask me, why should we exchange the trust of a true friend for the smile of an enemy who once pointed cannons at us?
His brilliant performance of "protesting too much" was like a nail driven deep into the Marquess of Salisbury's heart.
This only made the suspicious prime minister even more convinced of the existence of the "Russia-Greece secret agreement".
Constantine is right; betraying allies comes at a political price. The young man before him is not a puppet to be manipulated at will; he is a crown prince who must be accountable to his people and his army.
The Marquess of Salisbury understood.
Now, he needs to give the other party a way out. A way out that is both dignified and solid enough.