1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 249 The Queen Draws Her Gun

In the southern mountains, Ottoman cavalry captain Kennan, like a ravenous wolf, led his thirty-odd remaining soldiers, wandering desperately through the forest. The shadow of defeat and the fear of the future had driven this group into a frenzy.

Just then, a "businessman" lurking in the area delivered intelligence that made him ecstatic.

A piece of intelligence from British intelligence officer Major Harrison, passed down through layers of double agents.

—Behind Larissa, there was a poorly guarded field hospital. There, piles of medicine and supplies lay, and more importantly, there was a "canary" that had flown in from Athens.

"Brothers!" Kennan roared, brandishing his saber at the pairs of green-eyed throngs of eyes. "Rob that hospital! The medicine inside will secure our wealth for the rest of our lives! And that Prussian princess will bring us a tremendous reward from the Sultan!"

The hungry wolves let out bloodthirsty howls.

Meanwhile, in the field hospital's temporary command post, the director was looking at a routine frontline report that he had just received.

"...A remnant of about thirty Ottoman soldiers has fled into the southern mountains. They are no longer a threat and will be dealt with by the nearby militia. All rear units need not panic; just remain vigilant."

The hospital director paid it no mind. He was busy flattering a countess who had just learned how to bandage wounds, praising her "Nightingale-like kindness." To prevent the gunshots and the footsteps of the patrols from "disturbing the ladies' rest," he even took it upon himself to reduce the number of sentries on the west side of the hospital.

As dusk fell, the blood-red setting sun dyed the sky crimson.

The attack began without warning.

Kennan's cavalry, like a torrent, surged into the camp from the weakest point of defense on the west side, kicking up dust and killing intent.

"Enemy attack—!"

The outer sentry's alarm rang only once before a gleaming saber sliced ​​across his throat, silencing him abruptly.

The cavalrymen galloped wildly, setting fire to the nearest tent; the dry canvas instantly burst into flames. The desperate screams of the wounded mingled with the savage laughter of the Ottomans.

The tranquil hospital was instantly transformed into a living hell.

Inside a tent serving as a makeshift operating room, Sofia was intently assisting an elderly military medic in removing shrapnel from a severely wounded soldier who had been shot in the abdomen. She held an oil lamp in one hand and used tweezers to pass cotton balls to him, her forehead covered in fine beads of sweat.

Outside the tent, a huge, chaotic roar could be heard.

The curtain was suddenly flung open, and a noblewoman stumbled in, her face deathly pale, screaming, "Turks! The Turks have broken in!"

The atmosphere in the operating room instantly froze.

The old military doctor's hand trembled, and the scalpel almost slipped from his grasp.

Sofia didn't run. Her gaze swept over the soldier lying on the operating table, barely alive from blood loss.

She grabbed a scalpel from the instrument tray beside her and, in an unusually calm tone, said to the two guards at the door and several lightly wounded soldiers who could still move, "Block the door with the hospital bed! We must protect him!"

"Bang!"

With a loud crash, a tall Ottoman soldier smashed through the makeshift roadblock made up of a few hospital beds.

He grinned, revealing teeth stained yellow by tobacco, and slashed at the nearest one-armed veteran who was standing in front of Sofia.

It was the same person who had been comforted by Sofia during the day.

The veteran roared and used his only remaining left arm to meet the incoming saber.

The blade pierced flesh, and blood spurted out.

The veteran groaned, his tall body collapsing to the ground, but he clung tightly to the enemy's leg.

"Get out of my way!" the Ottoman soldier roared, kicking the veteran aside and raising his sword again, this time aiming straight at Sofia.

Sofia did not close her eyes and scream.

In the blink of an eye as the saber fell, she dropped the scalpel. She bent down and pulled the heavy revolver that belonged to the fallen veteran from his waist.

She gripped the cold gun handle tightly with both hands, her arms trembling slightly with tension and fear. She pointed the gun at the menacing face approaching, and with all her might, pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

The deafening gunshots rang out in the cramped operating room.

The immense recoil sent a sharp pain through Sophia's shoulder. She was thrown back a step by the force, crashing heavily onto the operating table, causing a series of shattering sounds from bottles and jars.

The bullet grazed the Ottoman soldier's ear.

She missed.

But the soldier was taken aback by this sudden and fierce resistance.

In that fraction of a second of pause, another guard roared and lunged forward, smashing the butt of his rifle hard against the back of the soldier's head. The soldier didn't even utter a sound before collapsing forward.

Sofia stood there, the acrid smell of gunpowder making her cough incessantly. A drop of warm blood splattered on her cheek.

She didn't wipe it.

She simply stood there, holding the gun, her eyes cold.

Kennan, the leader of the fleeing soldiers, rushed in through the gap in the tent. He immediately saw the woman in the center of the tent, holding a revolver, her white dress splattered with blood, like a blood-stained statue.

His pupils contracted, and then his face lit up with an extremely greedy and ecstatic joy.

He roared excitedly at his men behind him in Turkish.

"Take them alive!"