xymnovel Chapter 11 One letter, one trial
Chapter 11 One letter, one trial
The king's will, like thunder, echoed in the study.
Constantine's expression remained unchanged; he merely bowed slightly, performing an impeccable salute. Behind him, Captain Nikos, his hand loosened from the hilt of his sword, letting it hang at his side again, his towering figure seemingly merging with the crown prince's shadow.
"Go," George I waved his hand, his voice weary from burning anger.
Constantine didn't say another word, turned around, and took a step, his movements swift and decisive.
The dull thud of military boots faded into the distance in the corridor, each step tapping into the pulse of Greece's future.
George I slumped back into his chair, staring at the shattered teacup and the fatal letter on the floor, the last vestige of hesitation in his eyes completely crushed.
He grabbed the bell on the table and rang it loudly.
The crisp sound of bells broke the silence of the palace in the dead of night.
An attendant rushed into the study and, seeing the mess on the floor, dared not utter a sound.
"Issue my order," the king's voice was cold and devoid of warmth. "Summon Prime Minister Deriples to the palace immediately, now!"
……
Prime Minister's official residence.
Deriples paced restlessly in his study, like a fat, caged beast.
His secretary to the French embassy, Andreas, has returned and reported that the letter was delivered "successfully".
But he waited all afternoon and all night, and the expected diplomatic note from the French never came.
The embassy district in Athens was quiet, like a stagnant pool.
An ominous premonition, like a venomous snake, coiled around his heart.
Could something have gone wrong somewhere?
Just as he was in a state of utter confusion, the study door was suddenly pushed open, and the butler rushed in, his face full of panic.
"My lord! The...the royal court has sent someone!"
Deripples was startled, then a surge of ecstasy welled up inside him.
coming!
The king must have been unable to withstand the pressure!
That young crown prince was ultimately too naive. Did he think he could do whatever he wanted just because he had the king's authorization? He simply didn't understand that the true power of this country lay in the hands of the powerful nations who controlled warships and banks!
The French must have already put pressure on the king, and the king is summoning me now to appease me and to force a compromise!
Deriplis instantly regained his composure, his face once again displaying the arrogance of a victor.
He straightened his slightly wrinkled suit, looked in the mirror, and gave what he thought was a dignified smile.
"Get the car ready!"
He walked out of the official residence with his head held high and got into the prime minister's carriage, a symbol of power.
The carriage sped along the quiet street, its wheels making a crisp sound as they rolled over the cobblestones. Deripus's mind raced, already devising how he would magnanimously accept the king's "apology" when he met him later, and how he would seize the opportunity to reclaim all the power that was rightfully his.
Perhaps, this opportunity could also be used to force the king to send that troublesome crown prince back to Germany for "further studies".
The carriage stopped in front of the palace gate.
With a smug smile, Deriples strode into the hall of power he once thought he could no longer control.
The guards did not stop them.
The attendant respectfully led the way for him.
Everything went as he had predicted.
He was taken directly to the door of the king's study.
The attendant pushed open the heavy oak door for him.
Deriplis walked in with the air of a victor.
However, the smile on his face froze completely the next second.
The study was brightly lit.
King George I sat behind the enormous rosewood desk, his face ashen, his entire being like a silent iceberg, radiating a suffocating chill.
On the king's right, Crown Prince Constantine stood quietly.
He wore a crisp, dark blue royal military uniform, the gold sash on his shoulders gleaming in the candlelight. His handsome face was expressionless, his blue eyes as cold and indifferent as the deepest waters of the Aegean Sea, staring intently at me.
Dereplis's heart skipped a beat.
The atmosphere is off.
That's completely wrong!
This was not a conversation about compromise; it was more like a... trial.
He instinctively sensed immense danger, his throat went dry, and he couldn't utter a single word of his prepared statement.
"Your Majesty...Your Majesty, you summoned me late at night..."
He stammered as he tried to greet them.
Before he could finish speaking, George I made his move.
The king picked up a letter from the table, his movements filled with undisguised disgust, and threw it directly in front of Deripus as if it were a filthy rag.
The letter landed lightly on the smooth floor.
"Your Excellency Prime Minister," the King's voice was colder than the Siberian winds, "shouldn't you explain this to me, and to Greece, before I explain it to you?"
Deriples' gaze unconsciously fell on the letter.
Familiar French high-quality letter paper.
Familiar was his own flamboyant signature.
boom!
It was as if a bomb had exploded in Deliplis's mind, leaving him completely blank for a moment.
He felt as if all the blood in his body had been drained in an instant, and his limbs became cold and stiff.
That letter!
That letter given to the French!
How did it get here?!
An absurd and terrifying thought struck him like lightning.
From beginning to end, this was a trap!
That young crown prince not only anticipated his own actions, he even...manipulated them!
That damn street brawl!
The messenger who fell down!
Everything was planned!
Fear, like a huge, cold, invisible hand, gripped his throat tightly, rendering him unable to utter a sound and making even breathing incredibly difficult.
His mouth was agape, like a fish thrown ashore, moving futilely, his face turning from deathly pale to purplish-red.
He knew it was all over.
He's finished.
All his political ambitions, all his lust for power, and all his conspiracies were crushed into dust in the face of this letter.
His political life, at this moment, has come to a bloody end.
King George I looked at his disgraceful state, and his contempt deepened.
The king did not immediately announce his removal. Constantine had warned him beforehand that changing prime minister at this juncture would only cause violent turmoil in parliament and create unnecessary trouble for the subsequent diplomatic negotiations.
But he needs a puppet.
A living political zombie who can silence all gossip.
"Dripples".
The king stood up, walked around the desk, and stepped down to the prime minister, who was slumped on the ground, looking down at him.
"I used to think you were just stupid, just greedy."
"But I never imagined you could be this despicable!"
"When you were fawning over France, did you ever think about who put you on the prime minister's throne?"
"When you slandered the royal family and framed the crown prince, did you ever consider who you were truly sworn allegiance to?"
"When you requested foreign warships to enter the port of Piraeus, did you ever consider that you were standing on Greek soil?"
The king's voice grew louder and louder, each word like a heavy hammer blow to Deriples' heart.
"You! You don't deserve to be called a Greek!"
George I's chest heaved violently as he used all his strength to suppress the urge to kick the traitor to death.
"From this moment forward," the king's tone turned icy again, "you remain the Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Greece."
Deriplis looked up abruptly, a flicker of disbelief and relief in his eyes.
"But," the king's next words plunged him into an abyss of despair, "all your diplomatic, military, and domestic powers are stripped away. You only need to do one thing: in any situation, at any meeting, unconditionally, like a dog, agree with every decision my son makes!"
"You'll have to explain things to the parliament yourself!"
"roll!"
The king's final roar was like a thunderclap.
Deriplis shuddered, scrambled to his feet, and fled the study, the palace that had brought him glory and also destroyed him.
He walked listlessly through the empty courtyard of the palace.
The darkness before dawn is the deepest, with only a few scattered lights in the distant city of Athens.
The cool autumn breeze blew on him, but he felt a chill that penetrated to his very bones.
He knew that the era of Deripples was completely over.
From now on, he is no longer the prime minister who can command the wind and rain; he is just a political puppet whose backbone has been removed and who can be manipulated by others.
A living, walking pillar of shame.