1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 255 I am a moderate

Constantine's aura has changed.

The strategist who had previously been calm, analytical, and meticulous in planning has vanished. In his place is a crown prince who has been blinded by victory and public opinion, appearing somewhat "young and impetuous."

"Sir Harding!" His voice was filled with grievance and agitation. "I understand the greatness of the British Empire! You are the balancers of the world, the maintainers of order! But you don't understand my situation!"

He excitedly walked to the window, pulled back the heavy velvet curtains, and pointed in the direction of Athens. Although there was no sound to be heard, his performance was incredibly lifelike.

"Listen! It's the voice of the people! It's the cry of the entire Greek nation! They've tasted, for the first time in five hundred years, the true victory over their arch-enemy! Now you want me to go back and tell those cheering crowds, to the families of the soldiers who bled and died on the front lines, 'It's all over, we gained nothing'?"

He turned around, spread his hands, and looked pained.

"They'll tear down my palace!"

He used the same excuse he used on Major Harrison—"being held hostage by public opinion"—again, only this time, his performance was more intense and exaggerated.

Sir Harding's face remained expressionless.

He elegantly picked up the black tea in front of him, stirred it gently with a teaspoon, and didn't even glance at Constantine.

The bright red tea in the cup swayed in the light and shadow filtering in from the window.

"Your Highness's domestic affairs are not within the scope of the British Empire's concern." He blew on the hot air from the rim of his cup and began slowly and deliberately. "What we are concerned with is the stability of the Mediterranean shipping routes and the integrity of the Ottoman Empire as an important buffer zone for our route to India."

His implication was clear: public opinion in Greece is worthless.

Constantine's expression froze for a moment, then he adopted an even more indignant "victim" look.

"Do we not also desire peace, Sir! We sent peace envoys before the war even began, but they were in Constantinople and couldn't even see the Sultan himself!"

"They're the Ottomans! They have absolutely no sincerity in negotiating! Are you expecting my army, after winning victory after victory on the battlefield, to surrender unconditionally to an arrogant defeated force that won't even sit down at the negotiating table? That's not fair!"

Standing behind Sir Harding, Major Lionel Harrison, the liaison officer, watched Constantine's "one-man show" with a cold eye. He leaned down and whispered in Harding's ear:

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"Sir, he's putting on an act. The intelligence we received from Athens—the high command of parliament and the military—is now under his absolute control. Every word he says is a lie."

Harding nodded slightly, indicating that he understood.

He knew, of course, that Constantine was putting on an act. How could someone who could manipulate the representatives of Germany and Russia so easily be held hostage by such an illusory notion of "public opinion"?

But despite its poor performance, it firmly occupied the moral high ground.

Britain, the great British Empire, could not openly bully a small Christian nation that was "simply seeking justice and peace" and had offered an olive branch only to be rejected.

Such things can be done in private, but bringing them into the open would damage the empire's dignity.

Constantine astutely caught Sir Harding's momentary hesitation. He immediately seized the opportunity, stepped forward, and threw out a threat coated in sugar.

"Sir, I am a moderate, a rationalist. I respect Britain's interests in the Mediterranean, and I understand the importance of maintaining the balance of power."

His voice was low and full of sincerity.

"But if you force me, and Greece, to accept a humiliating and unjust peace, then I, the 'moderate' crown prince, will likely be abandoned by the people."

"At that time, radicals like Venizelos will come to the stage. Sir, you should have studied him. His 'Greater Greek Ideal' is far more fanatical than mine. Unlike me, he doesn't know how to respect British interests."

"Is a Greece mired in endless war, or one that has completely sided with Germany or Russia, truly what the British Empire wants to see?"

This statement hit Sir Harding right where it hurt.

Constantine positioned himself as Britain's only and last "rational partner" in this chaotic game.

While openly defying the will of Britain, he was also implying that only he could guarantee that Britain's interests would not suffer further losses.

"Either accept this little problem, or you'll be in for a big one."

The meeting room reached a complete impasse.

Sir Harding’s united front has crumbled.

He found himself in an unsolvable dilemma.

Forcibly suppressing Greece? That would only push this increasingly powerful local power into the arms of Berlin and St. Petersburg, causing Britain's entire layout in the eastern Mediterranean to collapse.

To leave it unchecked? The collapse of the Ottoman Empire, a crucial buffer zone, would also harm Britain's core interests from the Suez Canal to India.

The black tea in Sir Harding's hand had gone cold.

He looked at the young man in front of him, whose handsome face held just the right amount of anxiety and earnestness.

But what he saw deep within those deep blue eyes was a cunning fox and a roaring lion.

He lost.

In this small palace, without using a single warship or cannon, he suffered a crushing defeat.

He slowly put down his teacup, the bone china clinking against the saucer with a crisp sound that broke the silence in the room.