CHAPTER 380: CHAPTER 374 QUELLING THE REBELLION

When Valerovsky learned the news that his military attaché had completely disappeared, his latent sixth sense told him that the attaché who had stolen France’s "top secret" documents was very likely silenced.

As for who silenced him and where he was silenced, Valerovsky had no idea.

"Sigh! I originally wanted to take care of him myself!" Valerovsky sighed lightly and murmured a sentence softly.

According to the laws of the Second Empire, stealing "confidential" documents and selling them to another country is serious enough to warrant the death penalty.

Having a good colonel rank and not taking advantage of it, instead choosing to steal secret documents and sell them, is really like an old man taking arsenic—impatient with living.

Even though the military attaché had been declared dead in Valerovsky’s mind, the necessary formalities had to be done.

After finishing a simple breakfast, Valerovsky left the French Embassy and went to the residence of the Ottoman Empire’s Minister of Internal Affairs to seek help.

When Valerovsky arrived at the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the cumin-flavored Secretary of State responsible for receiving him enthusiastically asked what help Valerovsky needed.

After Valerovsky named that he wanted to meet with the Minister of Internal Affairs, the cumin-flavored Secretary of State rushed to the minister’s office door.

Opening the door to the minister’s office, the cumin-flavored Secretary of State saw the Minister of Internal Affairs correcting documents.

"What’s happening?" the Minister of Internal Affairs asked while flipping through the files, noticing the panicked expression of the Secretary of State in front of him.

"M... Minister!" The short-distance burst of running left the not-physically-fit Secretary of State struggling to catch his breath, he said intermittently: "The French envoy... Valer...vsky... is on the first floor, saying he has something to see you about!"

"Valerovsky Envoy? What is he doing here?" the Minister of Internal Affairs instinctively asked.

"I... I don’t know!" the Secretary of State swallowed his saliva and responded to the Minister of Internal Affairs.

"Then please let him in!" the Minister of Internal Affairs immediately instructed the Secretary of State.

After the Secretary of State left with the order, the Minister of Internal Affairs set aside his work, took out the teaware and black tea he had in his drawer, and called in a subordinate passing by the door to give an order for water.

Treating an envoy like Valerovsky from a major power must be accompanied by the highest etiquette, otherwise causing international embarrassment would mean the end of his career as Minister of Internal Affairs.

About a minute later, a subordinate filled the teapot with boiling hot water.

The Minister of Internal Affairs gently broke off a piece of tea cake made from black tea and placed it into the teapot, lightly stirring to blend the water and tea leaves.

The crystal-clear water turned red at a visible speed, and milky white steam wafted from the spout of the pot.

The minister covered the teapot, and the Secretary of State led Valerovsky into the minister’s office.

"Please sit down! Mr. Valerovsky!" the Minister of Internal Affairs invited Valerovsky in fluent French.

Valerovsky sat opposite the Minister of Internal Affairs.

Then, the Minister of Internal Affairs slowly said, "Please wait a moment for the tea to be ready!"

A few minutes later, steam was rising from the spout, and the Minister of Internal Affairs carefully poured the black tea into coffee cups, handing one to Valerovsky and keeping the other for himself.

Valerovsky picked up the coffee cup and gently blew on it, the steam floating on the surface of the black tea was instantly dispersed, and ripples spread across the tea’s surface.

After taking a light sip, Valerovsky couldn’t help but praise, "Good tea," as he savored the fragrant black tea lingering on his tongue.

The Minister of Internal Affairs pursed his lips with a reserved smile, then got to the main point by asking Valerovsky, "Mr. Envoy, I wonder what matters you need our help with!"

"It’s like this! Our embassy has a military attaché who didn’t return all night last night! I’m worried something might have happened, so I came here seeking your help!" Valerovsky said word by word to the Minister of Internal Affairs.

"Your country’s attaché disappeared in Constantinople?" The Minister of Internal Affairs involuntarily raised his voice, suddenly feeling he might be facing a hot potato.

If the attaché hasn’t died, everything is still manageable!

If the attaché has died, the Ottoman Empire will face a complicated political problem.

If the French Empire insists on pursuing the matter, then the Ottoman Empire can only apologize.

Not to mention, the Ottoman Empire is currently facing complex diplomatic issues, where even a minor misstep could lead to a huge political crisis.

"Please rest assured! I will definitely give you an explanation!" After hearing this news, the Minister of Internal Affairs, unable to care about savoring tea, hurriedly assured Valerovsky.

"Then please hurry!" Valerovsky nodded slightly, then drank the black tea in his cup in one gulp.

After Valerovsky left, the Minister of Internal Affairs, as if going mad, mobilized his subordinates to conduct a thorough search.

Under the Minister’s frantic supervision, the Ministry of Internal Affairs scrutinized every street in Constantinople over the course of an afternoon.

Finally, they found a clue in the slums, and following this lead, they discovered Constantin Klein, and coerced a confession about his connection with the military attaché.

The Minister of Internal Affairs immediately brought Constantin Klein in front of Valerovsky.

Gazing at this young man, probably around 20 years old, Valerovsky felt a surge of curiosity.

"What do you do?" Valerovsky asked Constantin Klein.

Having lost his parents and sister, Constantin Klein was like a soul-less shell. He replied in broken French, "Nothing at all!"

"If you do nothing, then where did you learn French?" Valerovsky pressed Constantin Klein again.

"Self-taught!" Constantin Klein mechanically responded.

"Self-taught?" Valerovsky scrutinized the soul-less figure before him, astonished at his learning ability.

"How did you come to know the acting military officer?" Valerovsky asked Constantin Klein.

"Acting military officer?" Constantin Klein looked at Valerovsky with confusion.

"You can’t possibly not know he’s the acting military officer!" Valerovsky said to Constantine Kleo.

"Where is he now? Where?" On hearing news connected to his parents, Constantin Klein yelled madly.

If not for the embassy servants restraining him, Constantin would have lunged at Valerovsky.

"Unfortunately! We lost contact with him starting last night!" Valerovsky spread his hands helplessly.

Upon hearing that the acting military officer was missing, despair washed over Constantin Klein. The officer’s disappearance meant that his parents and sister could never return.

"What’s your story exactly?" Valerovsky asked Constantin Klein again. Since Constantine Klein had been brought here, Valerovsky knew nothing about him.

Constantin recounted his story to Valerovsky.

Two years ago, Constantin was still a poor boy living in the slums, making use of his language talent to guide outsiders.

Back then, although he had no money, he was very happy.

Until the acting military officer arrived. During a chance encounter, the officer discovered Constantin’s language talent and needed someone with strong linguistic skills as a front.

To coerce Constantin into compliance, the acting military officer, along with others, threatened Constantin’s parents and sister, demanding that he work for them.

To save his parents, Constantin had no choice but to yield to the acting military officer.

Initially, the officer only involved him in small-scale smuggling, but as time passed, the officer’s ambitions grew.

The acting military officer began passing some trivial French documents through his hands to the black market, to profit more and more...

"Are you saying that he has already sold the intelligence to the Russian envoy?" Valerovsky inquired of Constantine.

"Yes!" Constantin recited the content of the letter verbatim.

A barely detectable smile appeared on Valerovsky’s lips, which vanished as quickly as it had surfaced.

"Mr. Constantin, your actions have seriously endangered the security of the French Empire!" Valerovsky sternly told Constantin Klein.

"I know, I’ll be headed to the gallows, right? Anyway, I should’ve been dead long ago!" Constantin Klein responded despondently.

"No, no, no! I’m asking if you’re interested in working for us!" Valerovsky saw in Constantin Klein a talent for languages and deftness, recognizing the difficulty in selling information and gaining trust from others.

If he could apply this ability to arms trade...

Upon this thought, Valerovsky decided to extend an olive branch to the person before him: "The reason you’re like this is that you didn’t have a strong force behind you. Join us now, and you will gain the most powerful shield in the world."

"I..." Constantin Klein looked at Valerovsky and smiled bitterly, "Do I have a choice to refuse?"

"Sir, you do not!" Valerovsky said confidently, "No one rejects our offer!"

"Revenge is not your only goal. I believe your parents wouldn’t want you to remain stuck in thoughts of revenge!" Valerovsky approached Constantin and said.

Constantin recalled those warm times, and the pain was gradually replaced by warmth.

"If that guy is still alive, I’ll let you finish him yourself! A traitor to France, we absolutely cannot allow those fools to exist in this world!" Valerovsky patted Constantin’s shoulder.

"Thank you!" Constantin Klein expressed his gratitude to Valerovsky.

From that day forward, one less broker existed in the world, while a merchant of death began to stir in the Near East.