1885, I came to save Greece

"Hunter cat..."

George I sat back down in his chair, ruminating on the word.

The atmosphere in the study was oppressive and suffocating. The flames in the fireplace flickered, casting the shadows of the father and son onto the wall, elongated and distorted, like two giants facing off.

Constantine knew he had to persuade his father.

To bypass the king and form an armed force on one's own is true "treason." He needs the king's authorization, even if it's just an informal, verbal acquiescence.

This is not only a matter of legal principles, but also a matter of whether he can complete this purge without shaking the foundation of the royal family.

"Father, do you think it's possible to apply for the budget and staffing for such a force through Parliament and the Cabinet?" Constantine calmly posed his first question.

King George I remained silent.

The answer is self-evident.

Zaimis and the oligarchs behind him control a majority of seats in parliament. Any proposal that attempts to weaken their power is nipped in the bud.

"They would never hand us a knife to slit their own throats," Constantine said, providing the answer for him.

He walked to the safe in the study, opened it with the key, and took out a thick ledger.

"Since they won't give it to us, we'll just pay for it ourselves."

Constantine laid the account books out in front of George I.

"This is the entire pension you and the Royal Family have allocated to me since I became an adult. Apart from necessary expenses, most of it is still here."

The ledger meticulously recorded every income and expenditure. The enormous surplus surprised even George I. He hadn't expected that his son, who had always been considered somewhat "mediocre," had secretly amassed such a considerable fortune.

But this is not enough.

Constantine produced another document.

That was a list from the German Imperial Family regarding Princess Sofia's dowry.

"In addition to real estate and jewelry, William's brother provided an extra sum of two hundred thousand pounds in cash as Sophia's dowry." Constantine's finger pointed to that astonishing figure.

"I will discuss with Sofia the use of my entire annuity, plus £100,000 from her dowry, as start-up capital for this unit and all expenses for the first year."

George I's breath hitched.

He looked up and stared intently at his son.

He used his own money and his future wife's dowry to build an army... solely to carry out his own will.

At that moment, he saw in Constantine a determination and courage that made his heart tremble.

That wasn't the impulsiveness of a young man, but a gamble made by a mature politician after careful consideration, risking everything!

Seeing the wavering in his father's eyes, Constantine knew the time had come.

He immediately pressed his advantage, giving the soon-to-be-born dark sword a legitimate veneer.

"Father, you are overthinking it. Of course we can't call it a 'guard,' much less an 'army.'"

A mysterious smile appeared on Constantine's face.

"We can give it a name that neither Zaimis nor the parliament can find any reason to object to."

"——Royal Tax Police (ΒασίλικήΑστυνομίαΦορολογίας)."

"Royal Tax Police?" George I murmured the unfamiliar term, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

"That's right." Constantine began to explain the unit's "official mission," each reason sounding plausible and unassailable.

"Its primary duty is to combat the rampant maritime smuggling and piracy, and to ensure the safety of Greek trade routes. This is in the interest of all legitimate merchants."

"The second responsibility is to protect the security of the Royal Family's territories and overseas assets. This is an internal matter of the Royal Family, and Parliament has no right to interfere."

Constantine paused deliberately at this point, then played his most crucial and fatal card.

"And its most important responsibility," he said, his voice low but each word carrying immense weight, "is to ensure that the £7.5 million in recovery bond funds we borrowed from the British are not embezzled or misused by anyone. We need to prove to our guarantors, the British Empire, that we are capable of protecting their investment!"

"Protect British investments!"

These words, like a talisman, shone with golden light!

George I's eyes lit up instantly.

He immediately understood the deeper meaning behind his son's words.

The oligarchs may disregard Greek law and bribe Greek officials, but would they dare to openly oppose the interests of the British Empire?

Once the name "Royal Tax Police" is established, especially with the British Financial Advisory Group in Athens, any attempt to obstruct this force from enforcing the law could be interpreted as a provocation against the credibility of the British Empire!

Even if Zaimis had immense influence, he wouldn't dare take this risk!

clever!

That's absolutely brilliant!

They use the title of "police" to cover up their true nature as an "army".

Using the pretext of "protecting royal assets" to circumvent parliamentary staffing restrictions.

Then use the "protecting British investment" shield to deter all potential opponents!

King George I looked at his son, his shock beyond measure.

He seemed to see a young lion sharpening its claws with wisdom and cunning far beyond its years.

After a long silence, the old king finally nodded slowly.

It was not a pleasant decision, but a difficult acquiescence made with worry and helplessness, yet one that had to be made.

"Connie, your idea is too audacious." George I did not fly into a rage, but looked deeply at his son with a complex expression. "Your annuity, your marriage, I can support them. But this 'Hunter'... it cannot belong to you, nor even to me. It must first prove that it belongs to Greece."

"I can only give you... informal authorization."

Constantine felt a chill run down his spine.

"Father, do you mean...?"

"Two months from now, a smuggling ship flying the Panamanian flag will arrive in Nafplio. On board are not only contraband but also a wanted criminal under the protection of Zaimis. The army and the police will ignore it." A cold glint flashed in the King's eyes. "I want you to use your chosen men to obtain the ship's ledgers and capture the wanted criminal without alerting any official forces. If you succeed, I will grant you authorization; if you fail, your 'Cat Hunting' team will forever remain a wildcat."

He knew he had obtained what he needed most.

A sword is about to be forged in the shadows.

Constantine understood that this sword, from the moment it was born, was destined to walk on the edge of a blade.

If it is exposed to the light of day at the wrong time and in the wrong way, it will inevitably provoke a frenzied backlash from the entire old forces, stirring up a raging storm.

He stepped out of the study, the night breeze blowing on his face, carrying a slight chill.

Outside the royal palace, there were jubilant crowds and the sleeping city of Athens.

Unbeknownst to anyone, a secret war that would determine the future of this nation had already begun.

Without the slightest hesitation, Constantine returned to his room and immediately laid out paper and pen, personally drafting an encrypted telegram.

The telegram was short, but every word was filled with an unquestionable command.

Its recipient was Joannis Metaxas, who was studying and researching at the Krupp factory in the German Empire.