1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 218 Insurance in the Mediterranean

George I's fingers gripped the armrest, his knuckles turning slightly white. He looked at his son, so familiar yet so unfamiliar, his heart pounding with conflicting emotions. Constantine's plan, every step meticulously analyzed with cold data and rigorous logic, was like a sophisticated German war machine, flawless in its execution.

But war is never just a game on a map.

"Your Highness."

A weary, aged voice broke the silence in the conference room. Prime Minister Tricoupis stood up. Unlike the excited soldiers, or the finance minister who only stared at the purse strings, his eyes held a deeper worry, an instinctive fear that a politician from a small country feels when facing a giant wave.

"Your military plan is perfect, and I have no objections." The Prime Minister first bowed to express his respect for Constantine's intellect, then changed the subject, his voice revealing deep concern.

"But what about the great powers?"

He raised his head, his cloudy gaze sweeping across the vast Mediterranean Sea on the map.

"Will the British stand by and watch us disrupt the delicate balance in the Balkans? And what will Tsarist Russia, that behemoth that prides itself on being the protector of the Orthodox Church, think? Once our fleet sets sail and our army crosses the border, telegrams from Vienna, notes from Berlin, and ultimatums from London will flood this conference room like snowflakes. At that point, we will be facing not just a weakened Ottoman Empire."

The Prime Minister's words were like a bucket of cold water poured over the hearts of the generals, whose initial sparks of hope had just ignited. They might not fear the Turkish scimitars, but they could not fear the Royal Navy's cannons. That was the sword of Damocles hanging over the heads of every Mediterranean nation.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer's brow, which had just relaxed, furrowed again. Intervention by the great powers meant a blockade, a disruption of trade—more deadly than a direct declaration of war.

The atmosphere in the meeting room turned cold again. The hope that had just been ignited by the data was now shrouded in the shadow of politics.

All eyes were once again focused on Constantine. They wanted to see how this young crown prince would handle this enormous risk, which could not be quantified by a calculator.

To everyone's surprise, Constantine showed his first and only smile of the day.

That smile was devoid of warmth, yet it was filled with a kind of confidence that seemed to penetrate everything.

He turned and looked at the huge floor-to-ceiling window of the conference room, his gaze seemingly passing over the rooftops of Athens and reaching the vast blue Aegean Sea in the distance.

"Your Excellency Prime Minister, what you are worried about is precisely the key to our victory."

He turned around, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching everyone's ears.

"Just last night, Major Lionel Harrison of the British Embassy conveyed the 'goodwill' of the Commander of the Mediterranean Fleet to me personally."

Major Harrison!

The name sent a chill down the spines of the Prime Minister and several ministers familiar with foreign affairs. It was the head of the British Secret Intelligence Service in Athens, a figure who never attended public banquets yet could influence all public decisions. The Crown Prince had actually met with him in private?

Constantine paused, his gaze sweeping over the tense faces of the crowd, quite satisfied with the effect. This dramatic reversal from despair to ecstasy was exactly what he wanted.

"The Royal Navy's Mediterranean Fleet will conduct a month-long 'neutral patrol' and live-fire exercises in waters off Crete, near the Dardanelles Strait, next month."

He emphasized the word "neutral cruise," each syllable like a bullet, precisely piercing the hearts of everyone present.

"I think," Constantine sneered, "that the Ottoman naval generals are all sensible and intelligent men, and they wouldn't be foolish enough to spoil the Royal Navy's annual exercises."

These words caused an uproar in the conference room.

"boom!"

The entire conference room erupted in chaos.

"What?"

"The British... what are they doing..."

"My God! Is this real?"

The old Secretary of War's beard trembled violently; he wasn't angry, but rather gripped by utter shock and ecstasy. The Chancellor of the Exchequer grabbed the First Secretary of the Navy's arm beside him, his nails almost digging into the latter's flesh. They both understood what this meant!

This meant that the Ottoman navy, which was still stronger than the Greek navy on paper, would be completely locked in its ports! Their army would receive no support or supplies from the sea.

This means that Greece can unleash its full potential and fully implement Constantine's surgically precise battle plan on land!

This isn't tacit approval; it's blatant favoritism! This is the British personally providing insurance for Greece!

King George I leaned forward abruptly, his eyes, usually filled with scrutiny and authority, now revealing undisguised astonishment for the first time. He looked at his son as if he were a stranger. How had he managed to get the British Empire, which had always pursued "offshore balancing" and thrived on chaos, to so clearly side with Greece?

The scales of victory are no longer tipped.

It was as if an unseen hand, with undeniable force, slammed into the Greek side!

Prime Minister Tricoupis stood there, mouth agape, unable to utter a word for a long time. He began whispering among his ministers, his worry vanishing, replaced by the fervor of a politician discovering immense potential. A war with insurance, a war guaranteed victory, could bring immeasurable political prestige and public support!

The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly shifted from cold and oppressive to incredibly warm. Everyone seemed to see the victory flag rising over the castle of Ioannina.

Constantine observed all of this with a cold eye. He knew that from this moment on, no one could stop this war. For the first time, his power would truly supersede the country's parliament and cabinet through this war.

Just then, the heavy oak door of the Imperial Conference Room was suddenly pushed open.

The chief steward stumbled in, his face drained of color, his expression one of terror as if he had seen the Ottoman army already at the gates of Athens.

He disregarded etiquette, his voice sharp and distorted, like a blunt knife slicing through the lively atmosphere of the room.

"His Majesty!!"

"Baron von Schneider, Ambassador of the Second German Empire, urgently requests an audience!"

"He...he brought a personal letter from His Majesty the Emperor, Wilhelm II!"

In an instant, all the sounds in the conference room disappeared.

The atmosphere, which had just been so heated, suddenly turned cold.

If the support of the British was a warm ocean current, then the will of the German Emperor was an iceberg from the polar regions.

If you crash into it, the ship will be destroyed and everyone on board will die.