1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 138 An Invitation from London

The morning sunlight bathed the Acropolis in a golden glow.

The jubilation of victory had not yet subsided. Syntagma Square was teeming with people. The entrance to the brand-new building of the Greek National Development Bank was piled high with olive branches and flowers offered spontaneously by the public. Extra editions of newspapers were passed through the crowd, proclaiming in the most prominent font the return of national financial sovereignty.

On the palace terrace, Constantine surveyed the scene. He wore a simple morning suit, a cup of coffee in his hand, the rising steam obscuring the expression on his face.

"Your Highness, we've won! Utterly!"

Professor Andreas strode over, his voice brimming with barely suppressed excitement. This former scholar, after a night of inventory and handover, had bloodshot eyes, but his spirits were higher than ever before.

He unfolded a newly compiled report, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.

"We've taken over all the assets of the old National Bank! Seventeen branches across the country, over thirty million drachmas in cash reserves, and... this!"

He pointed to an item on the report, his fingers trembling.

"That idiot Stretter, in his attempt to short the drachma, not only wiped out all of the bank's foreign exchange reserves, but also used most of the mortgage bonds held by the British through him to control Greek railways and mines! Now, all of that is ours!"

This is a fortune that cannot be measured in monetary terms. This means that Constantine not only won financial sovereignty, but also regained control of a portion of the country's economic lifeline.

Professor Andreas excitedly raised his head, ready to receive the Crown Prince's praise.

Constantine, however, did not react. He took a sip of coffee, his gaze passing over the cheering crowd and landing on the tranquil port of Piraeus in the distance.

He reached out and interrupted Andreas's report.

"professor."

His voice was calm.

"We have only won a defensive battle; the fight is far from over."

Constantine pointed towards the harbor, where several merchant ships flying the Union Jack were moored.

"A lion that has been bitten by prey in its own den is far more dangerous than it is in its prime."

He turned his head and looked at Andreas, who looked puzzled.

"It will retract its claws, lick its wounds, and then launch another attack in a smarter, more stealthy way."

Andreas' enthusiasm was as if it had been doused with a bucket of cold water; the excitement on his face slowly faded, and he turned into contemplation.

His Highness the Crown Prince sees further than he does.

Just then, a figure, like a shadow blending into the shadows, appeared silently at the entrance to the terrace.

Alexandros Dimitriopoulos.

He was dressed in the uniform of the Royal Guard, standing ramrod straight, his face expressionless. He walked behind Constantine, bowed slightly, and handed her a letter that had just been delivered.

The envelope was made of high-quality cardboard with gold-stamped edges and the British Empire's lion and unicorn emblem clearly visible on the sealing wax.

Constantine accepted the invitation and opened it.

It is a handwritten letter from Sir Charles Harding, the British Ambassador. In the letter, Sir Harding requests an emergency meeting with His Highness the Crown Prince this afternoon to discuss "deepening the traditional friendly and cooperative relations between Britain and Greece and exploring a range of future aid programs."

Professor Andreas also saw the contents of the letter, and his brows furrowed deeply.

"Cooperation? Aid?" He scoffed. "He has the nerve to talk about these things? This knight just tried to push our country into the abyss!"

In Andreas's view, this was nothing short of a blatant provocation. How shameless it was for a gambler who had just suffered a crushing defeat to come and talk to the winner about "friendly cooperation."

Constantine's face, however, remained completely expressionless.

"Let him come."

He handed the invitation back to Alexandros.

"It's scheduled for 3 p.m., in the second reception room of the palace."

He looked into Alexandros's steady eyes.

"In addition, have Metaxus prepare a report on the talent gaps in all our current industrial projects. It should be detailed down to every job and every technology."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Alexandros bowed again, then quietly retreated, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

Three o'clock in the afternoon, the second reception room of the royal palace.

Sunlight streamed through the tall French windows, casting bright spots of light on the carpet.

Sir Charles Harding arrived as promised. He was dressed in a well-tailored tailcoat, his hair was neatly combed, and he wore an impeccable, statesmanlike smile, as if yesterday's dramatic financial war was nothing more than an insignificant drama.

"Your Highness."

He walked up to Constantine and gave a standard hand-to-chest salute.

"First of all, please allow me to express my deep regret over the 'brief fluctuations' that occurred in your country's financial markets yesterday."

He used precise language, describing a financial coup as a "brief fluctuation" in a lighthearted way.

"At the same time, I would like to express my highest respect and admiration for your extraordinary courage and outstanding wisdom in quickly stabilizing the situation and maintaining the financial stability of Greece and the entire Eastern Mediterranean region."

Sir Harding adopted a humble posture and spoke earnestly; if one did not know the inside story beforehand, anyone would have thought he was a loyal friend who genuinely cared about Greece.

Constantine sat in the main seat, expressionless, and simply gestured for him to sit.

Sir Harding didn't mind and calmly sat down on the sofa.

He didn't dwell on yesterday's topic, but instead changed the subject and directly stated the purpose of his visit today.

"Your Highness, let bygones be bygones. We should focus on the future. The Prime Minister and Her Majesty Queen Victoria both have high hopes for the future development of Greece."

He took out a thick roll of blueprints from his briefcase and slowly unrolled it on the coffee table between the two of them.

It was a grand, breathtaking blueprint.

"In order to help Greece complete its industrialization process as quickly as possible, and to deepen the unbreakable friendship between our two countries, the British Empire is willing to 'aid' Greece in building the most modern thermal power plant in the country!"

He pointed to the massive complex of buildings that occupied the central position on the blueprint.

"It will utilize our latest turbine generator technology, and once completed, its power generation will be sufficient to support the industrial and residential needs of the entire Athens region for the next twenty years!"

His finger then moved to the other side of the blueprint.

"At the same time, we will also help your country lay a wired telegraph network covering all major cities across the country! From Athens to Thessaloniki, and to every important port and military fortress."

On the blueprint, a dense network of lines, like the blood vessels of the human body, extends to every corner of Greece.

Energy, information.

These are two major arteries of a country's modernization.

Sir Harding's vision was enough to drive any nation eager for development into a frenzy.

Constantine stared at the blueprints without uttering a word. His gaze swept over the precise lines and data, his eyes calm.

Sir Harding observed his expression and assumed he was moved by this enormous "gift." He cleared his throat and, in a more benevolent tone, casually added:

"Of course, Your Highness, as you also know, power plants and telegraph networks involve the most cutting-edge technologies and patents of our empire. In order to ensure the smooth progress of the project and the high degree of confidentiality of the technology, we hope... to hold a 51% controlling stake in the project and have it fully operated and managed by our most senior team of imperial experts."

He paused, observing Constantine's reaction, and then continued in a gentle tone.

"This is only a temporary arrangement. Twenty years from now, when Greece has cultivated enough technical talent, these shares can naturally be returned to the Kingdom of Greece 'conditionally'."

He downplayed the phrase "conditionally".

"Oh, right."

Sir Harding seemed to remember something else and added.

"In today's complex international situation, information security is of paramount importance. To better safeguard the 'security' of exchanges and strategic mutual trust between our two countries, we suggest that Greece establish a professional foreign intelligence agency. Of course, in the initial stages, to avoid detours, this agency could be 'guided' by senior advisors from our MI6 and share key information with us."

The words fell.

The reception room was quiet.

Sir Harding still wore a sincere smile.

The wounded lion finally revealed the greedy and sharp teeth hidden beneath its veil of tenderness.