1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 167 The Princess's Tea Party

Athens, the royal palace's back garden.

The early summer sun filters through the lush olive foliage, casting dappled shadows on the pristine white marble path. The air is filled with the fragrance of roses and jasmine.

Crown Princess Sofia is hosting a small charity tea party.

Those invited were the most distinguished ladies of Athens, as well as the wives of foreign ministers. Dressed in the most fashionable Parisian gowns and wearing exquisite lace gloves, they discussed the weather, art, and the latest social gossip in an elegant and harmonious atmosphere.

Among the guests was a special one—Mrs. Harding, wife of Sir Charles Harding, the British Ambassador to Greece. She was holding a cup of Ceylon tea, listening with great interest as Sophia introduced a newly cultivated rose variety.

The tea party was halfway through, and the atmosphere was very pleasant.

Sofia put down her bone china teacup, which made a soft, crisp sound. She gently wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, her delicate brows furrowing slightly, a perfectly measured hint of worry on her face.

"Oh, Mrs. Harding," she sighed casually, as if suddenly remembering something troubling her, "to be honest, I'm really worried about our country's overseas investment environment lately."

The surrounding laughter and chatter subsided somewhat. Several sharp-eared ladies turned their attention over.

Lady Harding put down her teacup and asked with concern, "Oh? Your Highness, has something happened?"

Sophia's gaze swept over the crowd, her voice tinged with innocence and confusion: "I heard that a Greek gentleman, Mr. Petaras, who was representing a British company and handling business affairs in Smyrna, Ottoman Empire, was attacked last night by a group of armed thugs and nearly lost his life."

"Armed attack?" Mrs. Harding exclaimed in surprise, quickly grasping the key words. Overseas, anything involving "armed" and "British companies" was no small matter.

"Yes," Sofia's expression grew even more worried. "Fortunately, his bodyguards were very capable, otherwise he would have been lucky. But think about it, Mr. Petaras represents a legitimate British company registered in London. If even a representative of such a company cannot be guaranteed personal safety on Ottoman territory, this... this will probably seriously affect other British investors' business confidence in the Ottoman Empire, won't it?"

Her words were perfectly worded. She didn't blame anyone; she simply stated a "fact" from the perspective of "concern for the shared commercial interests of Britain and Greece."

Mrs. Harding's smile vanished, replaced by a serious expression.

Sophia then took an envelope from the maid beside her and handed it to Mrs. Harding.

"Here is an informal briefing on this matter, which was sent to me by a friend in Smyrna. The contents may not be entirely accurate, but it may give Your Excellency some insight into the situation."

Her tone was incredibly sincere, as if she were only providing a trivial piece of information.

"After all, this concerns the safety of British citizens and those of allied nations serving the Empire overseas, doesn't it?"

This "deadly whisper" exploded in Mrs. Harding's heart like a precisely targeted bomb.

That evening, at the British ambassador's residence.

Sir Charles Harding took the "informal briefing" from his wife. At first, he wore the characteristic diplomatic smirk, thinking it was just another ploy by the Greek royal family to gain a small advantage.

But as he read through the pages, the smile on his face froze completely.

The official registration documents of the Anglo-Greek joint venture, the complete confession signed by the assassin leader, the autopsy report linking the deceased to weapons of the Ottoman military...

Every word was like a heavy hammer, striking his heart hard.

"Bang!"

He slammed the report down on the desk, the expensive mahogany surface making a loud thud.

His blue eyes, which always held a scrutinizing and calculating quality, were now burning with the fury of the empire.

"On Ottoman soil, using military weapons, a systematic attack on the chief representative of the British Empire's joint venture?"

Sir Harding let out a low growl at the military officer who came running at the sound.

"This is a blatant challenge to the Empire's extraterritoriality! This is a trampling of Her Majesty Queen Victoria's dignity!"

He was furious. This matter had far exceeded a mere commercial dispute. It was a blatant provocation by a local Ottoman power against the commercial hegemony of the British Empire. If today a Turkish merchant's hiring of assassins to kill a British company representative could be tolerated, then tomorrow countless governors and pashas would dare to confiscate British assets and tear up British treaties!

The majesty of the empire cannot be shaken in the slightest!

The next morning.

Everyone in Smyrna Port witnessed a scene they would never forget.

A British armored cruiser, flying a massive Union Jack, stormed through the harbor like a steel behemoth without any prior notification, and anchored directly in the sea opposite the Governor's Mansion. Its dark cannons, like the eyes of death, were coldly aimed at the city.

Sir Charles Harding, who was granted temporary authority over Near Eastern commercial and foreign affairs by the Cabinet, personally descended the cruiser's gangway in full diplomatic attire.

He ignored the Ottoman officials who came to greet him and went straight into the governor's residence in Smyrna, where he threw a diplomatic note, worded like an ultimatum, in front of the governor.

The demands of the note were simple and blunt:

Arrest and hand over the mastermind behind this heinous attack immediately – Muradbey.

Otherwise, the Royal Navy of the British Empire will take "all necessary measures" to "protect the Empire's overseas interests and the safety of its citizens."

Facing the dark muzzles of the British cannons and Sir Harding's cold face, the Governor of Smyrna was drenched in cold sweat.

Everyone knows that Britain was the largest creditor of the Ottoman Empire, and that the Ottoman Empire had also given Britain a lot of benefits.

While this "British envoy" from Greece may not actually overturn Smyrna because of his refusal, it's best not to try it.

He bowed and scraped before the "special envoy's" questions, his mind preoccupied with only one thought.

Abandon Murad.

He did not hesitate.

Less than half an hour later, fully armed Ottoman soldiers stormed into Muradbey's mansion like wolves. They smashed open the door, dragged Murad, who was still asleep, out of bed like a dead dog, and chained him up in front of all the servants.

The final judgment has arrived.

The news was relayed back to Athens at top speed.

In the Royal Palace, in Constantine's study, he stood before a massive sand table, discussing the training program for the new army's First Model Division with Captain Joannis Metaxas.

"...Therefore, the selection of artillery positions must prioritize flanking fire coverage, rather than simply pursuing range. In future wars, the value of crossfire networks far outweighs that of single-point bombardment." Constantine said, while using a small wooden stick to adjust several red flags representing artillery batteries on the sand table.

Alexandros walked in silently. He didn't speak, but simply placed a newspaper that had just arrived from Smyrna on the corner of the desk.

The front page of the newspaper featured a somewhat blurry but extremely impactful photograph: Muradbey, his entire fortune confiscated, was being led by soldiers into a death row cell in shackles. His once arrogant face was now etched with despair and madness.

Constantine's gaze shifted from the sand table to the newspaper.

He picked up the newspaper, glanced at it, and casually put it aside, as if it contained only a trivial local news item.

His gaze returned to the sand table, and he said to Metaxas:

"Alright, Captain. That troublesome hyena has been taken care of."

"Let's continue our discussion on the next phase of infantry-artillery combined tactics."

Metaxas looked at the young crown prince before him, watching him calmly describe a dramatic transnational killing as "getting rid of a troublesome hyena."

He knew that the Crown Prince had won a war without bloodshed by using the power of the British.

And this is just the beginning.