1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 247 Sophia's Speech

Athens' annual grandest "Rose Ball" was held as scheduled at the Zappion Palace. Under the crystal chandeliers, jewels glittered and elegant attire filled the air. Nobles, sipping champagne, discussed the latest Parisian fashion and horse racing, deliberately avoiding the somber news from the front lines, attempting to use extravagance and clamor to mask the underlying tensions.

As the ball reached its climax, the band suddenly stopped playing.

Crown Princess Sofia walked onto the high platform in the center of the hall under the watchful eyes of everyone present.

She wore a pristine white dress, her long hair styled in an updo, and adorned her neck and wrists with no jewelry. Surrounded by dazzling lights and elegant attire, she appeared as serene as a statue under the moonlight, both pure and captivating.

"ladies and gentlemen."

Her voice, amplified by the loudspeaker, resonated clearly throughout the hall.

"The roses smell wonderful tonight. The music is beautiful tonight."

"But as we raise our glasses in celebration, in the mud of Thessaly, thousands of Greek men are using their chests to withstand the bayonets of the Ottomans."

The hall fell silent, and everyone stared at her.

"Their blood stained our land. Their groans, however, we could not hear in Athens."

"When our warriors are on the front lines protecting our country with their lives, we cannot, and should not, comfortably enjoy the fragrance of roses in the rear."

She paused slightly, her gaze sweeping over the various expressions on the faces below the stage.

"I hereby announce that I will form a 'Queen's Medical Team' and personally lead them to the front lines. With our hands, we will bandage wounds; with our care, we will warm those cold barracks."

"I invite every patriotic Greek woman here to join me. Use your dancing hands to change bandages; use your playing hands to feed medicine and deliver water. The nation needs you. Your husbands, brothers, and sons need you."

After the speech ended, there was a moment of deathly silence in the hall, which was then followed by a polarized reaction.

Several young noble ladies, their passion ignited by Sophia's words, excitedly shouted, "Your Highness, I join!" and immediately ripped off their cumbersome lace gloves.

But many of the ladies, especially the older ones, looked uncomfortable and whispered among themselves.

The wife of the finance minister, Lady Pavlos, a middle-aged woman with great influence in the Athenian aristocratic circles, swayed her graceful body as she walked out of the crowd.

A flawless smile graced her face, her tone both tactful and concerned: "Your Highness, your patriotism deeply moves us all. However, the front lines are ruthless, and we frail women would likely only be a burden to the soldiers. In my opinion, wouldn't it be more prudent and effective to organize a larger-scale charity fundraiser and express our support with money?"

These words immediately drew a chorus of agreement.

"Yes, Your Highness, we can sell the jewelry and donate it to the country!"

"We can organize a knitting team to knit sweaters for the soldiers!"

They cleverly separated "patriotism" from "going to the front lines," attempting to appease the Queen's call in a more comfortable way that suited their status.

Sofia looked at Mrs. Pavlos and smiled.

"Thank you for the suggestion, madam. But money cannot heal a wound; a sweater cannot replace the comfort of loved ones."

Her tone suddenly changed.

"Furthermore, my medical team is not composed of just any of you here today."

She had barely finished speaking.

The side door of the ballroom, which was usually only used by waiters, was slowly pushed open.

Stavros, leaning on his cane, walked at the front. Behind him followed dozens of women. They wore simple, faded clothes, their hair was neatly combed, their faces bore the marks of time, and they possessed a solemnity and fortitude that seemed out of place at the ball.

They are family members of members of the "Greek Workers' Welfare Association". Their husbands and sons are also on the front lines at this moment.

The music and laughter in the ballroom abruptly ceased. All the nobles' eyes were fixed on this group of uninvited guests. They looked at their rough hands and worn-out shoes, their eyes filled with astonishment and bewilderment.

Sofia lifted her skirt and walked down from the platform.

She didn't go to the wealthy women, but went straight to the group of workers' wives.

She took the hand of one of the oldest women, whose hands were covered in calluses.

"They are also members of my medical team." Sofia's voice clearly echoed throughout the room. "In Greece, when it comes to serving the country, there is no distinction between nobles and commoners. There are only mothers, wives, and daughters."

This scene struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer blow.

In a corner of the ballroom, Major Lionel Harrison, the liaison officer for the British Secret Service, downed his glass of champagne in one gulp.

He whispered to the British ambassador beside him, Sir Charles Harding: "Sir, this is no longer a show of going to the front. She is consolidating a force that transcends class, a force that will be completely and utterly loyal to the Royal Family. Constantine is fighting on the front, and she is winning hearts and minds from the rear. This couple is far more formidable than we imagine."

Sir Harding's gaze pierced through the crowd, landing on Sophia like a cold probe.

"A Joan of Arc is of no benefit to the British Empire." He held his wine glass, his voice low. "Make arrangements to contact our 'friends' in Turkey. Tell them that the Crown Princess of Greece is about to embark on her 'patriotic journey.' I don't need to see any casualties, but a well-timed 'scare' will be enough to send this pampered Prussian princess weeping back to her warm palace."

Meanwhile, on the other side...

Russian military attaché Orlov was hiding on the balcony, laughing rudely and without any attempt to hide it at his confidants.

"Hahaha! A golden opportunity! A Prussian princess has died on the Greek front! That arrogant fool William will surely vent his anger on the Greeks! When that happens, the German-Greek alliance will collapse, and what choice will these Orthodox brothers have but to kneel down and beg for the protection of our Tsar?"

On his way back to the embassy in his carriage, German Ambassador Baron von Schneider quickly drafted a secret telegram to send to Berlin.

"Her Highness the Crown Princess's journey is extremely risky, but it also provides the Empire with an excellent opportunity. I strongly suggest that, under the guise of 'humanitarian aid,' a 'medical advisory group' composed of senior imperial military doctors and security personnel be dispatched immediately to accompany her. This will not only ensure Her Highness Sophia's absolute safety, but also allow our people to observe the true combat capabilities, casualties, and logistical system of the Greek New Army up close. This is first-hand intelligence that no exercise can provide."

A few days later, outside Athens.

A peculiar convoy gathered in the morning light.

At the head of the convoy were several ornate carriages belonging to noble ladies, their faces showing a mixture of excitement and nervousness behind the windows. Behind the convoy were a dozen or so simple military trucks, with workers' wives and daughters crammed into the cargo compartments, silent and clutching their medical kits tightly.

Sofia did not ride in her royal carriage.

She was dressed in a simple nurse's gown, her hair tied back with a simple hairnet. She refused everyone's help and boarded a regular military four-wheeled carriage at the front of the procession by herself.

The citizens of Athens spontaneously took to the streets to bid them farewell.

"Long live Her Highness the Crown Princess!"

"For Greece!"

Cheers resounded through the sky, and flowers and ribbons were thrown from windows on both sides of the street.

Sofia stood on the swaying carriage, holding onto the railing, waving to the crowd.

The convoy slowly drove out of the city gate, and she glanced back one last time in the direction of the Acropolis of Athens.

She knew that from this moment on, her battlefield would no longer be the court ball or the cabinet meeting room.

Her war has begun.