xymnovel Chapter 243 The Uninvited "Ally"
Chapter 243 The Uninvited "Ally"
Petaras's fleet disappeared into the night, like a stone thrown into the deep sea, leaving no trace.
In Athens, this pebble stirred up ripples and attracted a pack of keen-nosed hyenas.
In the city's most upscale Viennese-style café, the air was filled with the rich aroma of coffee beans and the spiciness of cigars. Alexandros Dimitriopoulos sat alone in a corner, an untouched mocha in front of him. Dressed in a well-tailored dark suit, he looked like a well-to-do businessman whiling away the afternoon.
A tall figure, carrying a strong smell of vodka mixed with leather, stopped at his table.
"Mr. Dimitriopoulos! What a coincidence! I never expected to see you here!"
Captain Vasily Orlov, the military attaché at the Russian Embassy in Athens, greeted him enthusiastically with his signature booming voice. Without a word, he pulled out the chair opposite Alexandros and sat down, his broad body almost filling the small coffee table.
"Captain Orlov." Alexandros raised his eyelids, nodded, and said nothing more.
"I heard you won a great victory at Epirus! That's truly inspiring!" Orlov slammed his hand on the table, making his coffee cup clink. "As soon as I heard the news, I went to church and lit an eternal flame for a whole day and night for our Orthodox brothers' victory!"
He leaned closer, lowering his voice, but his eagerness remained undiminished.
"Our Tsar speaks highly of Prince Constantine's bravery! He says that this is the true Orthodox warrior, the hammer sent by God to punish the infidels! We should unite and make the crescent flag disappear completely from the Balkans!"
Alexandros picked up his coffee cup, took a small sip, and remained noncommittal.
Seeing that the other party didn't respond, Orlov simply cut to the chase. "Alexandros, we're friends, so I'll be frank. We've heard about what happened on Crete. Well done! Absolutely excellent! But, just attacking Crete isn't enough! Far from enough!"
His fist was waving in the air.
"The Turks' Achilles' heel is the Dardanelles! If we control that area, the entire Ottoman Empire will suffocate! I'll give you a 'top secret' piece of information: our great Black Sea Fleet, 'coincidentally,' you know, 'coincidentally,' is preparing to conduct an unprecedented large-scale military exercise near the straits!"
He winked at Alexandros, his expression undisguised.
"If your fleet could just 'stroll' a little to the north and create some minor skirmishes... then when the cannons fire, wouldn't it be perfectly logical for our Russian fleet to enter the strait as a 'mediator'? For the glory of the Orthodox Church, Your Highness should see this great opportunity!"
Alexandros put down his coffee cup.
"Captain, I am merely His Highness's attendant, responsible for His Highness's safety. I know nothing about military affairs or diplomacy."
He stood up, took a few coins out of his pocket, and placed them on the table.
"I'll pay for the coffee. Goodbye, Captain."
He turned and left, leaving Orlov alone, staring at his cold coffee, his enthusiastic smile slowly freezing.
Meanwhile, inside the royal palace.
A carriage bearing the coat of arms of the German Empire stopped in front of Crown Princess Sofia's bedroom. The German ambassador, Baron von Schneider, gracefully alighted from the carriage, carrying a large bouquet of roses, freshly flown in from Cyphisia and still glistening with dew.
"On behalf of His Majesty Emperor Wilhelm II, I extend my sincerest greetings to you, my beloved Crown Princess." Baron Schneider gave a standard Prussian military salute and handed the bouquet to the maid beside him.
"Thank you for your concern, Baron." Sophia, dressed in an elegant light blue dress, greeted him in the drawing room. "Please have a seat."
After exchanging pleasantries, Baron Schneider got down to business, a worried expression on his face.
"Your Highness, if I may be so bold, His Majesty the Emperor is somewhat... uneasy about Prince Constantine's recent actions. We understand His Highness's enthusiasm for reclaiming lost territory, but the situation in the Balkans is like a powder keg; any spark could ignite an uncontrollable explosion."
"My husband was forced into this situation too." Sophia lowered her eyes, gently dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, her voice tinged with grievance. "The British are too arrogant. They only care about their own interests and don't care about the feelings of the Greek people at all. Connie... he was also pushed to this point by the public's demands."
"I completely understand." Baron Schneider nodded, then changed the subject, "However, speaking of the Battle of Epirus, our General Staff in Berlin gave your army's performance extremely high praise. Especially your artillery units; they brought the performance of Krupp artillery to its fullest potential. His Majesty the Emperor even personally inquired about the ballistics, barrel wear, and penetration power of the 75mm field guns against permanent fortifications in mountainous terrain..."
He talked on and on, like an enthusiastic arms salesman asking for customer feedback.
Sofia listened quietly, her mind clear.
"Baron, as you know, I am just a woman and don't understand these things about fighting and killing." She put on a weak appearance. "But I heard Connie mention it once. He said that German technology is a gift from God to the Germanic people. Every cannon shot is a tribute to truth. If it weren't for Krupp's cannons, the walls of Ioannina might still be standing today."
She cleverly avoided specific data, instead offering a compliment.
Then, she sighed "unintentionally".
"However, the fighting on Crete will likely be even more difficult than on Epirus. The terrain there is more complex, and our soldiers are more exhausted. Connie was complaining in his letter last night that the medicines and doctors at the front are running out. I really hope that there are more professional and meticulous people like the German doctors to help those wounded children."
Baron Schneider's eyes lit up.
"Medical volunteers"? What a brilliant term. It allows them to send military observers openly and legitimately, while also giving the Greek royal family a huge favor.
"Your Highness's kindness is truly moving." He immediately stood up, patted his chest again, and said, "I will immediately report your wish to Berlin. I believe His Majesty the Emperor will be very pleased to provide his brother-in-law with some 'humanitarian assistance' within his means."
Yildez Palace, Constantinople.
Sultan Abdul Hamid II's roar had lasted all day. The double defeats of Ioannina and Crete were like two slaps to the face of the empire.
The meeting before the emperor was deathly silent.
The old guard, led by Grand Vizier, turned their criticism towards Edhem Pasha at the front, accusing him of poor command and missing crucial opportunities.
Just then, a young figure stepped out from the ranks of the military officers.
His name was Ahmed Jamal Pasha, a young general known in the military for his radical ideas and tough methods.
"Your Majesty!" His voice was loud and firm, "The root of our defeat lies not in the incompetence of any one general, but in our excessive leniency towards the Greeks, towards all the rebels!"
He surveyed the bewildered old ministers around him, his eyes sharp as knives.
"Sheep's resistance is useless with whips. Only with a knife, the sharpest knife, to sever their heads and stain their pastures red with their blood, can the remaining flock learn what fear is!"
He took a step forward and knelt on one knee.
"I, Ahmed Jamal, beg Your Majesty's permission to lead a fleet to Crete! I need no reinforcements, no supplies, I need only Your Majesty's authorization! I swear to God, within three months, I will ensure that not a single word of Greek is heard on that island!"
The people inside the hall fell silent for a moment.
Athens, British Embassy.
The office of Major Lionel Harrison was eerily quiet. Informants from both the Russian and German embassies were sending almost identical intelligence.
The Russians wanted to stir up trouble, while the Germans wanted to gain advantages.
Harrison felt a sharp headache.
He had initially thought this was simply a bilateral game between Britain and Greece that he could easily control. He drew a line, and Constantine was supposed to stay put like an obedient puppy.
Now, the card table is crowded with uninvited players.
He suddenly realized that he might have underestimated the young crown prince's abilities from the very beginning. He wasn't roaring; he was blowing a whistle, a whistle that could attract all the hungry wolves.
Larissa Front Command Post.
Constantine stood before the enormous sand table. On the table lay two intelligence reports. One, from Alexandros, recorded his conversation with the Russian military attaché. The other, from Sofia, detailed her confrontation with the German ambassador and her offer of "medical volunteers."
He placed the two intelligence reports side by side, as if piecing together a complex jigsaw puzzle.
Russia's greed, Germany's shrewdness, Britain's anxiety, Ottoman's rage... the movements of every piece were clearly presented in his mind.
The card table was set up, and all the players had arrived.
The real enemy was never just the Ottoman army on the front lines.
Even more so are these well-dressed, seemingly civilized countries that talk about "friendship" and "interests" but are always ready to tear a piece of your flesh from you.
Constantine picked up the phone and connected to the Royal Intelligence Service's dedicated line.
"Alexandros, get the navy moving."