1885, I came to save Greece

The royal study was deathly silent under the cover of night.

Constantine pushed the report, which was practically a death sentence, aside, but his fingers remained on the table, tapping rhythmically, tap, tap, tap.

The Skopelos family.

This first brick, about to smash the old Greek order, is heavy enough that once it falls, it will shake the entire decaying edifice.

But bricks alone are not enough.

He needs a strong, powerful hand to throw this brick.

What's needed is a sharp sword that draws blood instantly, to cut through the bricks and throw them away, catching all the dark hands reaching out from the shadows.

Andreas and his office are the "purse strings" and the engine driving national change.

But if you only have an engine, without a sturdy body and armor, it's just a pile of expensive scrap metal on the road.

This armor could only belong to the military.

An army that is absolutely loyal to him and knows how to win a real war.

"Thump, thump".

Constantine's knuckles stopped, and he tapped the heavy solid wood desk.

A moment later, Alexandros pushed open the door and entered, followed by a burly, stern-faced middle-aged officer.

Colonel Papadopoulos, the king's captain of the guard, is an old-fashioned soldier who is loyal to the royal family but whose way of thinking is still stuck in the last century.

"Your Highness." The colonel gave an impeccable military salute.

"Sit down, Colonel." Constantine gestured to the chair opposite him. "How's the army doing lately?"

Upon hearing this, Colonel Papadopoulos remained upright, but his face clearly showed some discomfort.

He seemed to be carefully choosing his words, but ultimately decided to tell the truth.

"Your Highness, there are some unpleasant rumors circulating in the officers' club."

"Tell me their exact words. Don't embellish them." Constantine's tone was flat.

"Yes." Papadopoulos took a deep breath. "The Minister of War and several generals are very dissatisfied with your establishment of the Office of Economic Advisors and your decision to completely bypass the Cabinet and the military in funding the recovery bonds."

Constantine's lips twitched, but it wasn't a smile.

"What did they say?"

"They say... the royal family is prioritizing civilian over military matters, preferring to throw money at a madman who can only do math rather than equipping the army with new Krupp artillery. Some complain that the British tea ordered by the economic advisor's office is more expensive than the shells they use for exercises. Some even gossip in their drunken state, saying that you... don't trust the military."

"Oh."

A soft hum came from Constantine's nose.

Distrust?

He didn't distrust the army, but rather this group of old fogies who boasted of their "meritorious service in helping George I rise to power." In their eyes, the throne was a "gift" to George I after they "drove" Otto I. They could collude with politicians for personal gain and launch a "military coup," so why couldn't there be a second? A third?

Without a military force that "obeys the king's command and is capable of winning battles," he and his dynasty will never be able to escape the curse of the "Praetorian Guard Succession Law." Otto I even brought a Bavarian army to conquer Greece, but he was still overthrown. The current royal guard is more like a ceremonial guard and is simply not up to par in a real fight.

Moreover, he didn't believe that those old-fashioned generals still held onto Napoleonic-era war ideas and thought that lining up to shoot someone meant victory.

Give them the money?

I fear that in the blink of an eye, they will buy a bunch of outdated rifles that are about to be phased out to arm the army at prices far above market value, and then put the extra money into their own pockets. They will also secretly reduce the number of troops in each standing army, using the country's money to support "ghost soldiers" that do not exist at all.

In times of war, they would propose conscripting more untrained farmers to "reimburse" the army's vacancies through war, ultimately having young Greeks fill the enemy's machine gun and heavy artillery fire with their own flesh and blood.

A bunch of idiots.

"Anything else?" Constantine's voice was devoid of any emotion.

Colonel Papadopoulos's expression grew even more serious, and his voice lowered slightly.

"There's one more thing, it's about that... Joannis Metaxas."

Constantine's eyes finally showed a slight change.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Since the last meeting, that young man... has been almost completely isolated by the entire artillery officer corps."

The colonel's tone carried a hint of indignation and regret.

"In the artillery battalion, no officer of his rank was willing to speak to him. Many people cursed him behind his back, calling him 'His Highness the Crown Prince's lackey,' an informer who betrayed his colleagues to climb the ranks!"

"In recent exercises, his artillery company has always 'unexpectedly' been assigned to the worst positions and the worst-maintained artillery pieces. During a live-fire exercise a few days ago, the horses assigned to transport ammunition for their company even 'coincidentally' broke free and ran away halfway there!"

The captain of the guard's voice carried a soldier's indignation.

"This is blatant harassment and humiliation! On the battlefield, this is tantamount to attempted murder of a comrade! Yet that young man remained silent, leading his soldiers to complete each mission single-handedly. Without horses, he had his soldiers carry dozens of kilograms of ammunition boxes to the front lines! Their final shooting results were even better than those who had made things difficult for him!"

Constantine listened quietly, his expression remaining perfectly still.

But in his heart, he was sneering.

Isolation? Exclusion?

Great.

This is exactly what he wanted.

A piece of rough jade, if it is always mixed with a group of stubborn stones, will only have all its edges worn away and eventually become as mediocre as the stones.

Only by picking it out of the pile of stones and using the sharpest carving knife can its true brilliance be revealed.

Only a genius who has been completely rejected by the old group will wholeheartedly and unreservedly side with the new monarch who is the only one to extend a helping hand to him.

Those fools are doing their own bidding.

Constantine's thoughts drifted back to that day in the conference room.

When he pointed out the trivial calculation error in Metaxas's near-perfect ballistics report, a gleam instantly flashed in the other man's eyes.

It was a complex radiance, a mixture of shock, shame, and extreme fervor.

It is the gaze of a scholar whose worldview is instantly shattered and then reshaped by a higher-dimensional being.

He knew that at that moment, a seed called "absolute conviction" had been deeply planted in the young officer's heart.

The suppression and exclusion over the past few weeks have been like a hammer, repeatedly severing all the roots connecting this seed to the old soil.

Although it was painful, it had no other choice.

Now, it's time to give this seed, struggling in despair, a brand new fertile ground that belongs only to it.

"The time has come."

Constantine murmured to himself.

That unpolished gem, which he had deliberately forgotten in a corner, should be brought out and given its true brilliance.

He looked up at Alexandros beside him.

There were no extra explanations or complicated descriptions.

There was only one simple command, yet it contained the power of thunder.

"Relay my orders."

Constantine's voice was crystal clear in the quiet study.

"Summon artillery lieutenant, Joannis Metaxas."

"Go to the royal study immediately and see me."

The butcher's knife is sharpened.

It's time to let it meet its future owner.