xymnovel Chapter 68 Whom Does Power Serve?
Chapter 68 Whom Does Power Serve?
The summons, like a death notice, was placed on King George I's desk.
Inside the royal palace, a gloomy and desolate atmosphere prevailed.
The servants and ladies-in-waiting were terrified, even walking on tiptoe, afraid of making any unnecessary noise that might disturb the furious old lion in the study.
"I told you so! I warned you! Connie, look what you've done!"
George I was trembling with rage. His usually meticulously combed hair was now a mess. His eyes were red as he pointed at the summons sealed with parliamentary wax and then at his son, who was unusually calm.
"A privately established army! A treasonous plot! That bastard Zaimis is going to send our entire Glücksburg family to the guillotine!"
The old king's roar echoed in the study, carrying a hint of barely perceptible fear.
"Now! Immediately! Disband that damned unit right now! Hand them all over! Then you go to the council yourself, kneel down and apologize to them! Beg for their forgiveness!"
"Father," Constantine's voice rang out amidst his father's roar, clear and steady, "it's too late to apologize now."
George I's roar came to an abrupt halt.
Constantine met his father's gaze; there was no fear in his eyes, only a deep, calm pool.
"If we retreat, Zaimis and those oligarchs will be like a group of sharks that have smelled blood, devouring us alive and leaving not even bones behind."
"Then what do you intend to do?!" George I roared helplessly. "Are you going to storm Parliament with your fifty men? Do you think you're Napoleon? That's suicide! Think of that unfortunate Otto. If Parliament wanted to, even with the support of the great powers and his own Bavarian army, he would still be forced to step down."
“No, we are not Otto.” Constantine shook his head. “We will not retreat, but we will not advance either.”
He walked to his father's side and gently pressed down on the old king's shoulders, which were trembling with anger.
"Father, believe me. I brought this storm upon myself, and it is only I who can end it."
He leaned down and whispered his plan of action in George I's ear, in a voice only the two of them could hear.
King George I's expression underwent a dramatic transformation in just a few seconds. From initial shock, it slowly turned into incomprehensible absurdity, and finally, into utter blankness.
He looked at his son as if he were looking at a monster he didn't recognize at all.
A complete madman who dared to gamble the entire Kingdom of Greece!
"You..." The old king opened his mouth, a dry sound coming from his throat, but he couldn't utter a single word.
He felt that his son was either an unprecedented political genius or a gambler who would lead the Glücksburg dynasty into an abyss.
But it was too late; the game had already begun, and he had no other choice.
The next day, at 9:30 a.m.
The city of Athens was deserted, with everyone's eyes focused on Syntagma Square in front of the Parliament building. The atmosphere was as tense as a string about to snap.
Fully armed police formed a dense human wall in the square, expressionlessly separating the parliament building from the angry demonstrators outside. Among the crowd were thugs hired by Zaymis chanting "Hang the dictator," as well as citizens genuinely worried about the country's future.
The parliament hall was packed to capacity.
All the members of parliament, foreign envoys, and reporters from major newspapers were present.
Prime Minister Zaymis sat in the most prominent position, while the oligarchic members of parliament behind him rubbed their hands together, their faces filled with undisguised smugness and cruelty. Not far from him, shipping magnate Sigros even made a veiled throat-slitting gesture towards the press section.
They were waiting, waiting for the moment when the prince would be judged.
It was exactly 10:00 AM.
The heavy oak doors of the Parliament building were slowly pushed open.
A beam of sunlight shone in from outside the door, casting a long path of light in the dimly lit hall, where dust tumbled and rolled.
Constantine, alone, walked in along the path of light.
There were no attendants, no guards.
He was dressed in a crisp Greek army uniform: a white blouse, dark blue trousers, a gold sash slung across his chest, and a symbolic ceremonial sword hanging at his waist.
His steps were steady, and the sound of his leather boots striking the ground seemed to resonate with everyone's heartbeats.
His tall stature, handsome face, and eyes that remained calm and undisturbed beneath the brim of his military cap instantly plunged the noisy council hall into a deathly silence.
He didn't look like a criminal about to be judged.
He was like a Caesar about to review his army.
Constantine walked to the center of the hall, took off his hat, tucked it under his arm, bowed slightly to the Speaker, and then turned to face all the members of parliament.
His gaze calmly swept over the faces that were filled with anger, schadenfreude, or worry, and finally landed precisely on Prime Minister Zaymis.
Zaimis felt a chill run down his spine under his gaze, but the lust for power quickly overwhelmed the unease. He abruptly stood up and fired the first shot of the trial.
"Your Highness Crown Prince Constantine!"
He deliberately omitted all honorifics, his voice sharp and aggressive.
"On behalf of the Parliament of the Kingdom of Greece, I formally question you! According to reliable intelligence, you have secretly formed and trained an armed force of more than fifty men outside Athens! Is this true?!"
Everyone held their breath at that moment.
Constantine showed no sign of panic. He even gave Zaimis a very slight, almost negligible smile.
"Yes."
He readily admitted that his voice was clear and resonated throughout every corner of the hall.
"I did assemble a special operations team."
boom!
The audience was shocked!
No one expected him to admit it so readily and directly!
A flicker of uncontrollable elation flashed in Zaimis's eyes. He almost burst out laughing. He admitted it! He actually admitted it! This was suicidal!
"Good! Very good!" Zaimis stepped forward, ready to press his advantage and completely cement the charge of "treason".
But Constantine never gave him that chance.
While everyone was still reeling from the shock, Constantine abruptly changed the subject!
His voice was no longer calm as before, but suddenly rose in pitch, full of passion and power, like a hurricane sweeping across the entire venue!
"But I didn't build it for myself!"
"I didn't establish it for the sake of royal power!"
His gaze was like lightning, shooting straight at Zaimis, a look that made the latter involuntarily take half a step back.
"I established it for the sake of this country's coffers! For the sake of every taxpayer's hard-earned money that has been stolen!"
He took a sudden step forward, and the metal ornaments on his marshal's uniform made a crisp clanging sound, like war drums, pounding heavily on everyone's chest!
"Its name is the 'Royal Tax Police'! Its sole purpose is to crack down on smugglers who, like parasites, drain our national treasury! Its sole mission is to recover every penny of customs revenue that rightfully belongs to the people of this country!"