The salt breeze of the Ionian Sea rolled thick with promise. Dockworkers toiled under the sun as crates were offloaded swiftly from the merchant ships—barrels marked as "wine" and "olive oil," bundles of "textiles" and "farm tools." But those who knew how to listen could hear the subtle clink of something heavier inside—rifles, sabres, and barrels of powder.
Admiral Orlov, having just arrived from Corinth, stood at the edge of the dock, his greatcoat catching the breeze as he watched the offloading in satisfaction. His smile stretched ear to ear, a rare sight from the seasoned admiral.
"Hah! The Ottomans won't even know what hit them," he chuckled, folding his hands behind his back. "The British are devilishly clever… They've slipped through the blockade disguised as trade vessels. Brilliant, really. All under the Empire's nose."
He turned to his adjutant with a nod. "Once this reaches Corinth, we prepare the grand push. The Sultan's boy won't know what storm is coming."
The crates kept coming—quietly, efficiently. War dressed as peace.
Governorate Pasha Palace – Athens
As dawn broke across the Athen Eyalet, I stood atop the governorate balcony with Cemil and Şahin beside me, overseeing the city's slow transformation.
The recent conflict had left its imprint not just on the buildings, but on the soul of the city. For weeks, Athens had been a battlefield between loyal Ottoman forces and Greek insurgents, emboldened by Count Orlov and his slender detachment of Russian regulars. Though our provincial troops resisted valiantly, the enemy's tactics had been clever—too clever. Surprise, deception, and sabotage had turned the tide in their favor. The scars remained: shattered gates, burned archives, missing altın from the treasury.
But that was yesterday. Today was for building.
"My şehzade," Cemil said, his voice crisp yet weighed with duty. He stepped forward, holding a leather-bound folio. "We have several documents that require your seal—the contracts for construction materials, transportation networks, food logistics, and assorted goods for provincial administration."
"Place them on my desk," I said, motioning to one of the attendants. The servant bowed and disappeared with the stack in hand.
Cemil approached next, folding his arms as he looked across the skyline of scaffolds and temporary barracks.
"My şehzade," he began, "while restoration continues, I've made inquiries into the state of education here. There are madrasahs, yes—but most students are forced to travel to Istanbul for advanced studies. The demand here, especially among the mixed communities, is strong. Would it not serve us better to construct a local school… perhaps modeled after the Enderun system?"
His words hung in the air for a moment. The Enderun—imperial in design, demanding in discipline, and refined over centuries in Istanbul. To bring such an institution to Athens… the thought stirred something in me.
I turned to Cemil. "You still keep the educational reform drafts, don't you?"
"Of course," he replied, patting his satchel like it contained sacred scripture. "Every idea we've ever discussed is tucked away and safe. The plans, and details. All of it."
He gave a confident thumbs-up, and I chuckled—he had a way of turning duty into charm.
"Then perhaps," I said, looking over the city once more, "Athens will be the first Eyalet to rival the capital. Sorry, Istanbul—you might have the Bosphorus, but we've got ambition."
"You mean…"
"Yes, gather the local scholars and Ulemas, we will begin our first project 'Athens First Education System'." I said.
"Right on, my şehzade" Cemil bowed and left to start doing things.
Sahin approached.
"Also my shehzade, it is important to maintain the troops and defense, since the possibilities of those Orlovs will come back again with reinforcements.
"I doubt so, since the Taganrog, they would not be able to help. And it would be fine, since Francois De Tott are constructing the fortress at Crete Islands."
"But…I'm afraid it will not be easier this time" Sahin answered.
"How so?" Cemil wondered upon.
Sahin put his one-eyed glass, "As you aware of my roles, I also put some some of our men in Corinth, and rebel-owned base on Morea, and it seems, they had received goods. Lots of it, under disguised as locals owned.
"Hmm, then it must be…."
"Yes, my shehzade…there's a possibilities that the British might indirectly involved in our mess," Şahin said, voice low.
The room fell silent.
I blinked. "You're sure?"
Şahin adjusted his one-eyed lens, the glint of afternoon light dancing across its rim. "Not entirely. Not yet. But the signs are difficult to ignore. The crates—marked as agricultural produce and cloth—were offloaded too efficiently. The handling, the markings, the seal styles… they resemble British merchant protocols."
"But the blockade—" I began.
"They didn't sail in openly," Şahin cut in. "They make used the coastal settlements, smaller vessels flagged under neutral or local traders. Some were even disguised as Aegean fishing boats. Classic covert supply route."
My mind drifted briefly to Kalamata—to the scene Şahin described. The crates stacked like ordinary trade goods, yet too carefully handled, too cleanly transferred. Orlov's grin made sense now.
"So they're not committing troops," Cemil said slowly, "but they're sending weapons?"
"Precisely," Şahin replied. "Arms, munitions, perhaps even field equipment. Enough to keep the rebels alive… but not enough to risk open war with us."
Cemil cursed under his breath.
I remained quiet, then spoke slowly. "They're hedging their bets. Letting Orlov's rebellion bleeds us while keeping their hands clean. And if the rebellion succeeds… they'll claim influence over Morea. A foothold in the Eastern Mediterranean."
"Exactly," Şahin said, his voice tight. "It's a chess move—not just against us, but against the Russians as well. Let's say we're being attacked from both sides"
I leaned back, folding my arms. "So, they feed a Russian-backed revolt, only to manipulate the outcome if it turns." I will admit that it was inddeed a classic British indeed."
"But without proof, we can't accuse them," I said. "The moment we point fingers at the British Empire, the entire diplomatic balance shifts. Istanbul will panic. Vienna might turn cold. Even the French may hesitate to support us openly."
Şahin nodded grimly. "I've already dispatched agents to trace the shipping routes. If we're lucky, we'll catch a name—a captain, a false registry, something to link back to Portsmouth or one of their outposts."
"And if we find nothing?"
"Then we prepare for the worst. Corinth won't stay quiet for long. If they're receiving supplies now, it means they're preparing a new campaign. And this time…" Şahin paused. "It might not be as contained as Athens."
I turned back to the window, watching the faint haze of city dust rise over the Acropolis ruins.
"Sahin, order Muhtasin to quickly re-establish provincial troops."
"As you command, my şehzade". Sahin bowed and exits.