1885, I came to save Greece

Andreas Kolacis, Prime Minister Deriplis's most trusted secretary, was carrying his briefcase and walking briskly through the labyrinthine alleys of Athens.

The stone-paved road was uneven, the walls of the houses on both sides were mottled, and the air was filled with the unpleasant smell of cheap olive oil mixed with sewer gas.

He hates this kind of place.

But he was even more afraid of the eyes that might be watching him from behind.

Instead of taking the familiar carriage, he chose to walk along these dirty shortcuts, which he considered the wisest choice. He even changed into an inconspicuous gray coat, trying to blend into the hurried crowd at dusk.

He clutched his briefcase tightly under his arm; the letter inside represented his only hope and the Prime Minister's only chance to turn the tide.

Once the letter is safely delivered to the French ambassador, that arrogant crown prince will learn what true international politics is and what the thunderous wrath of the French Republic is!

Andreas subconsciously pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and quickened his pace.

He didn't notice that not far behind him, several burly men dressed in the coarse cloth clothes often worn by dockworkers had been following him at a distance. Their pace seemed casual, but the distance between them and the exchange of glances revealed a high degree of professionalism.

Ahead is a T-junction, which is also the narrowest part of this alley.

Just as Andreas was about to turn, a sudden change occurred!

"What are you looking at! You stepped on my foot!"

"Bullshit! You were the one who bumped into me!"

The "laborers" who had been following him suddenly erupted into a fierce argument. A torrent of profanity filled the air, and the two men instantly began fighting, pushing and shoving each other roughly.

The alley was already narrow, and their commotion instantly blocked the way.

Andreas frowned, cursing these vulgar lowlifes inwardly. He took a step to the side, trying to squeeze past the wall.

Just then, a burly man who had been shoved seemed to trip over his own feet, lost his balance, and crashed heavily into him!

"Be careful!"

A gasp of surprise.

Andreas had no time to react; he felt a tremendous force slam into his shoulder. He staggered backward and landed hard on his backside.

A sharp pain shot through his tailbone, making his vision go black.

What terrified him even more was that the briefcase he cherished as his life flew out of his hand!

With a "thud," the briefcase's lock was flung open, and the documents inside scattered all over the floor like snowflakes.

"My files!" Andreas cried out in alarm, frantically reaching for them.

confusion!

Utter chaos!

In that split second, no one noticed that a figure huddled in the corner of the alley moved.

He was a ragged, thin, and withered "beggar".

He leaped out of the shadows like a startled raccoon.

The movements were incredibly fast!

His hand swept across the scattered documents on the floor like a gray lightning bolt.

He precisely picked up a letter stamped with the Prime Minister's official seal with two fingers and instantly stuffed it into his pocket.

At the same time, with a flick of his other wrist, he subtly tossed a letter that looked exactly the same, in size, and even with the same wax seal, back into the pile of documents.

Collect, hide, throw away.

The whole process was smooth and seamless.

It didn't even make a single extra sound.

When Andreas recovered from the excruciating pain and struggled to lift his head, the "beggar" had already shrunk back into the corner, hugging his knees, as if nothing had happened.

"Beep—beep—"

Finally, the patrol officers in the distance, blowing their sharp whistles, slowly jogged over.

Upon seeing the uniforms, the "coolies" who were still fighting immediately exchanged glances, cursed, and scattered like birds, disappearing instantly at the other end of the alley.

"Sir, are you alright?"

The patrol officer ran over, appearing "enthusiastic" and "responsible." He helped the still-shaken Andreas to his feet while frantically picking up the documents scattered on the ground.

"These damn thugs! One day they'll all be locked up in jail!" the patrolman cursed angrily.

Andreas, still shaken, took the documents from the patrolman and quickly stuffed them back into his briefcase. He nervously checked them; the most important letter lay quietly on top, its wax seal intact.

He breathed a long sigh of relief.

Thankfully, the letter is still there.

"Thank you, officer, thank you." Andreas said hastily, not even bothering to brush the dust off his clothes. He clutched his briefcase tightly and strode away in the direction of the French Embassy without looking back.

He must complete the task as soon as possible.

The patrol officer watched his hurried departure, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips. He adjusted his hat, then turned and walked in another direction.

A few minutes later, at the end of the alley, the thin "beggar" handed a letter to a man who looked like an ordinary businessman.

The merchant took the letter, turned around, and boarded an inconspicuous carriage.

The carriage traveled through the streets as dusk deepened, and finally stopped in front of the side gate of the palace.

……

The Crown Prince's bedroom.

The candlelight flickered.

The real secret letter was laid flat on the desk in front of Constantine.

The sealing wax on the envelope had been carefully cut off.

The letter paper was of the finest French quality, with a faint scent of ink. The handwriting was in fluent and beautiful French.

But the contents of the letter were shocking.

"...Your Excellency Ambassador, in my capacity as Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Greece, I hereby issue this most poignant and tearful indictment to you and to the great French Republic..."

"...Crown Prince Constantine, incited by the Prussians, is brazenly launching a palace coup that will overturn our constitution! He has imprisoned the King, coerced the cabinet with force, and is attempting to drag Greece into a devastating war with the Ottoman Empire, completely destroying the Balkan peace established by Britain, France, and Russia..."

"...This action will not only destroy Greece, but will also severely damage France's interests in the Mediterranean. I implore, no, I beg the great French Republic to intervene justly as a protectorate, and to send your glorious fleet to the port of Piraeus to uphold Greece's hard-won democracy, freedom, and order..."

At the end of the letter was Dereplis's flamboyant signature.

Constantine read it aloud, word by word.

The palace was silent.

Alexandros and the captain of the guard stood to one side, even their breathing becoming soft. Although they didn't understand French, they could guess from the ominous aura emanating from the letter and Constantine's increasingly cold expression how malicious its contents were.

betray!

This is blatant treason!

However, when Constantine put down the letter, his face did not show the thunderous rage that everyone had expected.

A slight smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

The smile was cold, filled with undisguised satisfaction.

"Using patriotism as a pretext to commit treason."

Constantine picked up the letter and examined it closely by candlelight.

"Mr. Deripples, you have truly... given me the best gift."

He carefully refolded the letter, as if it were not a piece of evidence of a crime, but a precious trophy.

Then, he took an envelope bearing the coat of arms of the Greek royal family and carefully placed the fatal letter inside.

He intends to use this "gift" to deliver the most fatal blow to his enemy.