1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 161 The Art of Retreating to Advance

Upon his return to Athens, Constantine was immediately met with a political downturn.

In the palace corridors, ministers who had once treated him with utmost respect now avoided his gaze. In the salons of the nobility, rumors that the Crown Prince had been "bewitched by radical charlatans" became the most fashionable topic of conversation. Even his father, King George I, had piles of "letters of advice" from various high-ranking officials on his desk. The wording in each letter was more earnest than the last, but the core message was the same: the Crown Prince was playing with fire.

The storm came faster and more violently than expected.

Yilmanos's propaganda campaign was more successful than expected. They did not attack Constantine, but instead branded every action he took with the original sin of "destabilizing" him.

After three days of careful preparation, the bishops, led by Yermanos, dressed in their most magnificent robes and holding scepters symbolizing power, formally requested an audience with the king.

The atmosphere in the royal council chamber of the palace was as oppressive as the sea before a storm.

The air was still; even breathing was done cautiously.

King George I sat on his throne, his brow furrowed, looking down at the row of bishops in black robes below, then at his son standing calmly beside him, caught in a dilemma.

Yermanos stepped forward; his obese body made each breath seem exceptionally heavy and oppressive. He held aloft a letter signed by all the core members of the Holy Council.

"Your Majesty!" His voice boomed, echoing throughout the meeting room, "For the sake of the harmony between the kingdom and the church over the centuries, and to prevent the most sacred faith of Greece from being defiled, we implore you to immediately rescind His Highness Constantine's 'inappropriate appointment' of Father Callinicus!"

"A fanatical monk, ostracized by the mainstream denominations, must never possess power above the Holy Council!"

He paused, then turned his attention directly to Constantine.

"And we earnestly request Your Highness to issue a public apology to all believers for the offense and harm he has caused to church tradition!"

All eyes were on Constantine.

He was thrust into the eye of the storm, facing a united attack from the entire church leadership, headed by Yermanos, all alone.

Although Prime Minister Tricouss and others were dissatisfied with the church's arrogance, they also disapproved of Constantine's radicalism and chose to remain silent.

Everyone was prepared for Constantine's fierce rebuttal, for a heated argument and confrontation between royal and divine authority.

However, Constantine's next move stunned everyone in the conference room.

He stepped out from beside the king, approached the bishops, and bowed deeply to Yermanos, who looked on with an air of triumph in sight.

"Gentlemen."

There wasn't a trace of anger in his voice; instead, it carried a sense of self-reflection and apology.

"Perhaps I was too impatient."

This gesture, this tone, caused all the eloquent words Yermanos had prepared to get stuck in his throat. The smugness in his eyes didn't even have time to fully bloom before it froze into a look of astonishment.

Constantine straightened up and continued in a sincere tone, "Directly appointing an unsupervised special inspector is indeed contrary to the long-standing tradition and dignity of the Church. I admit that my actions were somewhat reckless."

"I'm willing to withdraw this proposal."

We won?

Is it really that simple?

A wave of ecstasy washed over Yermanos; his plump face trembled slightly with excitement, and he instinctively straightened his back, his fingers gripping the scepter so tightly they turned white, as if he held the future of the entire Greek Church in his hands. The bishops behind him exchanged knowing glances, some even already plotting how to divide the spoils left by the abdication of royal power.

However, Constantine was not finished speaking.

"However," he changed the subject, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, "the rumors of misconduct and corruption at St. George's Monastery have caused concern among some believers. In order to uphold the reputation of the Church, an investigation must still be conducted."

"To make amends for my recklessness, and to show respect for church tradition, I propose," Constantine's voice became deliberate, "that a 'Royal Council for the Oversight of Church Property and Ethics' be established."

"The chairman of the committee will be His Excellency the Archbishop of Athens, a man of high moral standing and universally respected. All decisions of the committee must be approved by the Archbishop. Surely this doesn't break with tradition?"

Yermanos's smile froze.

He couldn't object. It was a proposal that was procedurally flawless. By having the archbishop chair it, he was essentially handing over the committee's supreme power back to the Church itself.

Constantine's gaze finally settled on Yermanos's fat face, which seemed to shift between light and shadow.

"As for the specific investigation work... we always need a staff member who is hardworking, familiar with the grassroots, and willing to run errands on remote islands."

He shrugged and said it in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I think Father Callinicus from the Holy Mountain is just right. Let him serve as a 'special committee officer' who has no decision-making power, to run errands and do odd jobs for His Excellency the Archbishop."

"I don't think anyone would object, right?"

The entire conference room was deathly silent.

Yermanos felt as if he had swallowed a fly.

His powerful punch felt like it had hit cotton. Not only did his opponent completely neutralize his force, but they also pushed him into a position he couldn't refuse.

Oppose?

How would he object? Would he object to a committee led by an archbishop, whose procedures were completely "legal"? Or would he refuse an appointment that sounded like "errand boy" or "laborer"?

That would only make him appear narrow-minded and like he was trying to cover up his true intentions!

He could only watch helplessly as King George I gave Constantine an approving look before striking his scepter heavily.

"That's what we'll do!"

This confrontation ended with the prince's "compromise" and the church's "victory".

That evening, in a side hall of the palace.

Callinikos took a document from Constantine.

It was a dual authorization document bearing both the King's seal and the official seal of the "Royal Council for the Inspection of Church Property and Ethics".

Constantine looked at the lion about to descend the mountain: "Father, your new identity will bring you some inconvenience."

Callinicus carefully tucked the authorization order away from his body. In his burning eyes, there was not a trace of humiliation at being "demoted," but rather a hunter's excitement.

"Your Highness, you have made a mistake."

On his gaunt face, that familiar, fanatical, and sinister smile appeared.

"Does a tiger need decision-making power to kill a sheep when it comes down from the mountain?"

Yermanos thought he had won; he had turned an “opposition” into an insignificant errand boy on the committee.

But he didn't know.

He personally opened the last cage door leading to the sheepfold for the tiger.

The first target that this ravenous tiger spotted was the incredibly wealthy slaughterhouse called "St. George."