1885, I came to save Greece

The underground wine cellar of the port building was temporarily converted into an interrogation room.

It was dark, damp, and filled with the smell of moldy oak barrels and rust.

Port Authority Director Mavromi Harris was pinned to a chair by two soldiers. His silk shirt was crumpled, and his usually meticulously combed hair was now disheveled and plastered to his forehead.

Opposite him was only a small table and a kerosene lamp.

Constantine sat in the shadows of the lamplight, as if he had become one with the darkness.

"I protest! This is illegal detention!" Mavromhalis initially maintained a semblance of high-ranking official decorum and composure. Facing the Crown Prince's scrutiny, he appeared as an unyielding and principled "senior minister."

He rolled up his sleeves, revealing arms scarred from protecting King George I, and waved them at Constantine, shouting, "I am the Port Authority Director appointed by the National Assembly! You have no right to treat me like this! I have shed blood for the country, I have contributed to the economy! I demand to see the Prime Minister! I demand to see the King!"

Constantine didn't speak, nor did he even look at him.

Seeing that Constantine remained silent, Mavromi Harris assumed that Constantine was deep in thought.

He spoke gently, using the tone of an elder being lectured after being offended by a junior: "Your Highness, perhaps this is all a misunderstanding. Although my cousin is the Prime Minister, I will not side with him if he has done anything wrong. Make a call to the King; the King knows my character."

Constantine simply nodded slightly to Professor Andreas beside him.

Andreas took a document out of his briefcase and handed it to him.

Constantine cleared his throat and slowly walked over to Mavromha Harris. He began to recite softly in a flat, academic tone.

"Mr. Mavromi Harris. The third-floor apartment at 112 Champs-Élysées, Paris, is owned by you."

Mavromie Harris's "plea for mercy" came to an abrupt end.

"An anonymous account at Barclays Bank in London, ending in 7745, has received a total of £32,000 since 1883. The most recent deposit was made last month."

Fine beads of sweat began to appear on Mavromi Harris's forehead.

Andreas adjusted his glasses and continued reading: "Miss Mathilde Dupont, 24 years old, a ballerina at the Paris Opera, currently resides in your apartment in Paris. Last week, she received a diamond necklace from you worth five hundred pounds."

"Enough! Stop reading!"

Mavromi Harris let out a piercing scream, his body trembling violently, his face ashen. His feigned toughness crumbled instantly.

He looked at the silent young man behind the light with the eyes of someone looking at a devil.

He knew these things better than his wife did! These were his deepest secrets! How did this prince know them?

At this moment, Constantine finally spoke.

His voice was soft, yet it struck Mavromi Harris's most vulnerable nerves like a cold chisel.

"Tell me everything about the Skopelos family."

"How their fleet uses privileges to falsify tonnage and evade tariffs."

"How they smuggled high-tax industrial goods into Greece disguised as low-tax agricultural products from their warehouses."

"Which officials did they bribe, and how were all those funds accounted for?"

Constantine stood up, walked over to Mavromhalis, bent down, and stared into his pupils, which were dilated with fear.

"Tell me everything, and you can take the rest of your money, retire gracefully, go to Paris, and stay with your beautiful Mademoiselle Mathilde forever."

His voice carried a devilish allure.

"Otherwise, everything you just heard will be on the front page of every newspaper in Athens first thing tomorrow morning."

"You will be taken to court, all your property will be confiscated, and you will spend the rest of your life in prison."

"And your poor lady... I think she would be more than happy to tell all of Athens about her husband's 'affairs'."

Immense fear and a sliver of hope, like two giant hands, were tearing at Mavromi Harris's psychological defenses.

He struggled for less than ten seconds.

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything!"

He sighed and slumped into the chair like a spineless mollusk.

"Since I can't hide it anymore, I'll just have to make everyone my 'atonement'."

He spilled everything he knew, revealing in detail how the Skopelos family exploited loopholes in the port system to bribe officials and conduct large-scale smuggling.

……

The command center was brightly lit late at night.

Constantine stood before the enormous map, flanked by his two key supporters—Andreas and Costas.

On the table in front of them lay a diagram of relationships drawn by Constantine himself.

On it, the names of the major oligarchic families of Greece, their core industries, political representatives, and the intricate marriage and business relationships between them were all marked with lines of various colors.

The National Bank of Strelt, the ocean-going fleet of Sigros, the mining group of Zara Costa... these are all well-known names in Greece, but they are just nodes in this vast network.

In the most prominent and central position, the name "Scopelos family" was drawn in a large circle by Constantine with a bright red pen.

"Why them?"

Kostas finally voiced his doubts. Pointing to the names Stretter and Sigros on the map, he said, "In terms of financial resources and political influence, these two are the true core pillars of the oligarchic group. The Skopelos family is at best second-rate."

Constantine smiled.

He picked up his pen and pointed to the relationship lines on the diagram.

"Kostas, that's a very good question. 'Strike the snake at its vital point, capture the kingpin first.' But have you considered that the kingpin is often the most cunning and the one who hides the deepest?"

"That's right, Stretter and Sigros are old foxes. They operate with meticulous care, have close ties with bankers in countries like Britain and France, and even have spies within the royal family. Directly targeting them would be like stirring up a hornet's nest, provoking a frenzied backlash from the entire oligarchic group and even the great powers behind them."

Constantine pressed his pen heavily onto the name "Scopelos".

"But the Skopelos family is different."

"They're nouveau riche. Relying on the wealth accumulated by the previous generation, their sons have become the most arrogant and domineering idiots in Athens!"

"Over the years, in their quest for business, they've offended almost everyone. They look down on 'country bumpkins' like Zaracosta who made their fortune through mining, and they're jealous of Sigros's monopoly in Mediterranean trade. They even had a major falling out with Strelt's bank over a small loan dispute."

Constantine's lips curled into a cold smile.

"If we attack him, Stretter and Sigros will not stand up for him; on the contrary, they will applaud him from behind and be happy to see a rival fall."

"Hitting him won't unite the oligarchs; it will only make them glad they weren't the ones who suffered!"

"He is our best breakthrough point! A fat and stupid pushover, isolated by everyone!"

These words gave Kostas and Andreas a sudden sense of enlightenment.

Constantine's strategy was far more far-reaching than they had imagined.

"Our goal has never been to investigate every single bad debt, much less to send all the oligarchs to the guillotine. That's unrealistic and would destroy Greece."

"My goal is to divide them and disintegrate them!"

Constantine's voice resonated powerfully in the quiet room.

"The Skopelos family is like a signal tower. We will use the most swift and decisive means to destroy it! Uproot it completely! With its remains, we will send the clearest and loudest signal to all smuggling groups with interests in the port of Piraeus, and indeed throughout Greece!"

"Either come to me voluntarily, pay your back taxes, spit out what you've swallowed, cooperate with me, and become part of the 'New Order'."

"Or they'll suffer the same fate as the Skopelos family!"

Professor Andreas listened to Constantine's entire plan, his body trembling slightly with excitement. His eyes were filled with fanatical admiration.

He looked at the young crown prince as if he were looking at a chess master who had laid out a profound and infallible plan. Those complicated family relationships and those hidden interests beneath the surface had all become pawns that he could manipulate at will.

"Your Highness..." Andreas's voice was hoarse with excitement, "You...you're not conducting a tax audit...you're waging...an art of war!"

Constantine put away the map, his blue eyes appearing exceptionally deep under the light.

"The war has only just begun."

He turned to look at Andreas.

"Now, Mavromi Harris has given us a lead. I need you and your team immediately to unravel the mountain of fake accounts piled up by the Skopelos family..."

"Find that perfect opening, the one that can deliver a fatal blow to them!"