1885, I came to save Greece

The surrounding noise seemed to be shut out at this moment.

Sofia could clearly feel the warmth and strength emanating from the arm encircling her waist—solid and steady.

She could even hear his steady, strong heartbeat.

In just a moment, Constantine released his grip.

There was no hint of surprise or embarrassment on his face, but rather a helpless smile: "It seems that the Athenian way has not yet learned how to welcome a Prussian princess."

After saying that, he jumped off the carriage and, under Sophia's surprised gaze, casually rolled up the sleeves of his dress, revealing his muscular forearms.

He didn't call for the guards or utter a single complaint. He simply walked to the mud pit, bent down to look inside, and then skillfully pulled out a spare thick wooden plank from under the carriage.

He found the right angle, wedged the plank under the wheel, then walked to the horse, grabbed the reins, and gave a few steady and distinctive commands.

The horse seemed to understand his language, its muscles bulging as it suddenly exerted its strength.

After a screeching sound as the wheels rubbed against the wooden planks, they were easily pulled out of the mud pit.

The entire process was clean and efficient, full of a practical skill that was not typical of royalty.

Constantine dusted off his hands, got back into the car, and acted as if he had just dealt with a trivial matter.

Sofia looked at him with a complicated expression.

It was unimaginable in Prussia that a crown prince would personally handle such menial tasks, and with such skill. In the Berlin court, let alone a prince, even a baron whose carriage got stuck in the mud would simply sit in his carriage, frowning, and wait for his servants to take care of everything.

The carriage continued on its way, leaving the chaotic neighborhood and beginning its ascent up a winding mountain road.

The road gradually became smoother, and the surroundings became quiet.

Finally, the carriage stopped on an open platform.

Sofia stepped off the carriage, her feet landing on the solid rocks, and when she looked up, her breath caught in her throat.

They reached the summit of the Acropolis in Athens.

The setting sun was slowly sinking into the distant sea, and its last rays, like the gentlest paintbrush in God's hand, bathed the entire ruins of the Parthenon in a warm and sacred golden light.

The evening breeze blew, ruffling Sofia's golden hair and dispelling the hustle and bustle of Athens.

Standing here, overlooking the city below that is gradually lighting up with thousands of lights, an indescribable sense of grandeur and desolation wells up in my heart at the same time.

Constantine did not rush to speak.

He stood side by side with Sofia, letting the silent grandeur cleanse their souls.

After a long while, he slowly spoke, his voice deep and magnetic, blending seamlessly with the ancient temple.

Two thousand four hundred years ago, an old man named Socrates would always stand in the square at the foot of the hill and ask the young people of Athens, "What is justice?" "What is virtue?"

He did not discuss the current political predicament, explain the ruin of the palace, or defend the chaos in Athens.

He began to tell a story.

"His student Plato conceived of an ideal state ruled by 'philosopher-kings' here. He believed that only wisdom could lead the state to eternity."

"The artisans who built this temple used the most perfect golden ratio to express their worship of the goddess of wisdom, Athena. They firmly believed that mathematics and harmony are the ultimate truth of the universe."

Constantine's voice echoed before the empty temple.

His profile was sharply defined, and the light of the setting sun shone in his eyes, which held no nostalgic sadness, but only a burning passion for the future.

Before she knew it, Sophia had become completely absorbed in his narration.

She looked at him, at this man.

He was depicting a Greece she had never imagined. Not a weak nation struggling to survive between powerful nations, not a people enslaved by the Ottomans for four hundred years, but a source of the most brilliant wisdom of human civilization.

"Today, the Second Industrial Revolution is sweeping the world. Steel, steam, and electricity are reshaping everything," Constantine's voice began to rise with fervor.

"Everyone says Greece missed the train. They say we only have dilapidated temples and lazy people."

But they were all wrong.

He turned around abruptly, staring intently at Sophia.

"They only see our aging bodies, but not our immortal souls! Sophia, what I want to do is to infuse the wisdom of Socrates and the ideals of Plato into the steel and steam-powered body of modern industry!"

"When the classical spirit combines with the power of modernity, this country will no longer be Greece; it will have a greater name!"

At that moment, Sofia's heart skipped a beat uncontrollably.

She looked at his face bathed in the sunset, and at the stars in his eyes that shone brighter than the sunset and the sea.

This man was unlike any of the princes and nobles she had ever met.

While his elder brother Wilhelm II was also ambitious, his ambition was characterized by a rigidity and fanaticism typical of German society. Constantine, on the other hand, possessed an ambition that contained a profound and expansive quality rooted in ancient civilization.

He doesn't want to conquer the world; he wants to rebuild a civilization.

Sofia felt her breathing become rapid.

She was taught from a young age to be rational and restrained, but at this moment, she felt something called "passion" burning in her chest.

Constantine took a step forward and stood beside a broken column of the Parthenon.

He reached out and gently stroked the marble that had withstood more than two thousand years of wind and rain.

"Many people come here and only see ruins."

He turned around, his gaze piercing through the approaching twilight, and fixed firmly on Sophia's face.

"But what I see is the cornerstone of civilization."

"Sophia, what did you see?"

This question struck Sofia's heart like a heavy hammer.

He wasn't asking her about her impressions as a tourist. He was asking her if she understood his ambition and if she was willing to share this grand dream with him.

Sofia's heart was filled with turbulent emotions as she witnessed this grand vision and Constantine's unparalleled personal charm.

However, the Prussian rigor ingrained in her bones since childhood, like a stern and unsmiling tutor, spoke coldly at a moment when her heart was surging with emotion.

Romantic visions cannot fill an empty stomach, and grand plans cannot mend muddy roads.

She remained silent for a moment.

Then she looked up, her beautiful azure eyes strikingly clear in the twilight.

With a calm yet almost sharp tone, she pointed out the most undeniable and cruel reality.