novelSusiti Chapter 35 Madman Andreas, the Forgotten Dragon Slayer
Chapter 35 Madman Andreas, the Forgotten Dragon Slayer
Alexandros stepped out of his study, dappled sunlight filtering through the corridor windows and casting shadows on him. He gripped the heavy money pouch in his hand, the metal weight seeming to press directly on his heart. The Crown Prince's order was simple and blunt, yet it pointed to the only path forward.
Without any delay, his first stop was the University of Athens.
As the Crown Prince's attendant, his visit made the university president feel extremely honored. In the president's office, this highly respected elder in academia personally served Alexandros coffee.
"What are your instructions, Your Highness?" the principal asked humbly, rubbing his hands together.
Alexandros got straight to the point, relaying several of Constantine's key points, but omitting the crucial secret of "the Royal Economic Advisor's Office."
"...an economics professor, around forty or fifty years old, had published a radical article a few years ago challenging the monopoly of the national bank, and was punished for it."
The moment the words left his mouth, the principal's smile froze. His hand holding the coffee cup trembled slightly, spilling the scalding liquid onto the carpet, but he was completely unaware.
"A challenge...to the National Bank?" The principal's voice became hoarse. He nervously adjusted his glasses. "Your Excellency, you must be mistaken. Our University of Athens is a temple of knowledge. How could there be such...such an arrogant person?"
He stammered, his eyes darting away, avoiding Alexandros's gaze.
"All our professors are rigorous scholars; they would never utter such absurd remarks that would shake the foundations of the nation. The person you're talking about—our school…doesn't have him, absolutely not."
Alexandros looked at him, knowing perfectly well which banker was sponsoring this principal. The official path was blocked.
He didn't waste any more words, politely took his leave, leaving the principal looking pale.
Emerging from the principal's office, Alexandros stood in the university courtyard, watching the students come and go, a cold glint in his eyes. He whispered a few words to one of his capable guards, who immediately understood and disappeared into the crowd.
The strategy changed. Since the legitimate path was blocked, they would use gold to forge a path through the darkness.
Over the next two days, Alexandros's men infiltrated every corner of the University of Athens like ghosts. They no longer visited the gleaming offices, but instead frequented the dimly lit clubs of old professors, filled with the smells of cigars and alcohol, and the pubs around the university.
The gold coins in the purse were transformed into glasses of fine French brandy, and the brand-new drachma banknotes were casually slipped into the pockets of retired professors and disillusioned lecturers.
At first, no one dared to talk about it. It seemed like a taboo subject.
It wasn't until the following evening, in a smoky underground tavern, that an old lecturer, dismissed for alcoholism, finally spoke, his eyes glazed with drunkenness, after drinking his fifth glass of brandy and seeing Alexandros's men push a small bag of gold coins in front of him.
"You...you're looking for that madman..."
"Which lunatic?"
"Andreas...yes, 'Mad Andreas'! Ha, who else would dare say those things besides him..." The old lecturer hiccuped, slurring his words, "Five years ago...because of that damned paper...he was almost hanged from a lamppost in Constitution Square by the bankers!"
A clue has appeared!
Alexandros immediately ordered that all forces be focused on the name "Andreas".
Soon, more information came from all directions. They managed to get a retired archivist to talk. This man, who had worked at the university for forty years, knew all the secrets.
"Of course I remember him, Andreas Kofinas." The old administrator's attitude immediately became enthusiastic after accepting the thick wad of banknotes. "The most talented professor in the economics department, and also the most out-of-touch idiot. He said the National Bank was 'a private treasury disguised as the state,' and 'a vampire that strangles Greece's future.' Tsk tsk, can you just say things like that so casually?"
Where is his file?
The old administrator shook his head: "It was cleared out long ago. The principal himself gave the order. You won't find a single word of it in the office archives."
Alexandros's heart sank.
"However..." the old man smiled slyly, "the official files have been destroyed, but some things cannot be destroyed."
He led Alexandros's men into the university library's basement. A pungent, musty smell and the stench of rotting paper assaulted their nostrils, almost suffocating them. This was a graveyard of discarded archives, mountains of documents and books covered in a thick layer of dust.
The light was dim, with only a few kerosene lamps flickering, casting long, eerie shadows between the bookshelves. The ground felt sticky, as if one had stepped on something unsettling. The air was cold and damp, seeping into one's bones. Behind the bookshelves, the occasional scurrying of mice sent chills down one's spine.
Alexandros's men, disregarding their filth, began frantically searching through this sea of old papers. Their fingertips were quickly covered in sticky dust, and each breath felt like swallowing mold.
The old administrator pointed to a corner: "Those rows are all the bound volumes of the school newspaper from the past fifty years. If there's anywhere else that bears his mark, it's only there."
Several hours passed, and just as everyone was about to be overwhelmed by the stench of decay, a guard let out a suppressed gasp.
"Found it!"
The crowd immediately gathered around.
In the interlayer of a thick, yellowed, and brittle old bound volume of the school newspaper, they found a carefully cut-out newspaper clipping.
The paper was yellowed and the edges were torn, but the title on it, printed in bold lead type, was still shocking.
"On the Monopolistic Harms of the National Bank and Its Systemic Suppression of Greek Industrialization"
Below the title is the author's signature.
—Andreas Kofinas.
Alexandros took the thin clipping, but it felt incredibly heavy. This wasn't just a paper; it was the person His Highness the Crown Prince was looking for!
Late that night, all the information about Andreas Cofinas was compiled into a book and sent to Alexandros.
His resume is impressive. He holds a PhD in Economics from the University of Athens and studied at Heidelberg University in Germany under the tutelage of one of the most prominent economists of the time. After returning to Germany, he became the youngest economics professor at the University of Athens at the age of thirty-five.
However, five years ago, after publishing this paper, his life came to an abrupt end.
The academic, financial, and political circles launched a joint attack against him. Newspapers relentlessly criticized him as a "madman," a "conspirator," and a "German spy." Under immense pressure, the University of Athens stripped him of his teaching position. His wife, a noblewoman from a banker's family, could not withstand the pressure and left him with their children, publicly announcing her disownment.
Overnight, he fell from grace.
The last page of the document records his current situation.
Andreas Kofinas, 46, lives alone in Plaka, one of the poorest and most chaotic neighborhoods in Athens. With no stable income, he barely makes ends meet by writing letters for illiterate neighbors and occasionally translating obscure German philosophy pamphlets.
A sentence followed the address.
"This person is aloof, hates all the powerful and wealthy, and is extremely difficult to approach."
Alexandros closed the file and took a deep breath of the cold air.
He found the person before the three-day deadline had passed.
But did he find the "sword bearer" that His Highness the Crown Prince needed, or a madman who had been completely destroyed by hatred and despair?
Holding the file, with mixed feelings, he rushed back to the palace that very night.