xymnovel Chapter 290 Joanina's Goodwill
Chapter 290 Joanina's Goodwill
Chapter 290 Joanina's Goodwill
The sea breeze carries the scent of the land, mingled with the moisture of the lake and the fragrance of the earth.
Ioannina, the capital of Epirus, appeared in Sofia's view like an ancient jewel set on the shores of Lake Pavotis.
From the boat, the city is nestled amidst lush green mountains, dotted with Byzantine domes and Ottoman-style minarets. The scenery is picturesque, with lakes and mountains reflecting in the landscape.
But as the flagship slowly approached the dock, that idyllic pastoral scene was quickly replaced by an invisible sense of tension.
On the dock, the blue and white Greek flag fluttered atop the flagpole of the temporary administrative building, proclaiming new sovereignty. Beneath the flag stood rows of well-equipped, solemn-faced Greek soldiers.
Beyond the police cordon set up by the soldiers, the streets and docks were filled with local residents. They were dressed in traditional Ottoman attire; the men wore fez hats, and the women covered their faces with headscarves.
They didn't cheer, they didn't stir, they just stood silently in groups.
Gazing eyes pierced through the soldiers' lines of defense, descending upon the flagship bearing the royal insignia. Those gazes held no welcome, only vigilance, suspicion, and a deep-seated hostility.
They looked at these new "conquerors" as if they were looking at a group of strangers about to invade their homeland.
Sofia stood on the deck, gripping the ship's railing. The sea breeze ruffled her deep blue travel dress. She didn't avoid the gazes, but calmly looked back at the city and the people of this land.
"Your Highness, the ship has docked." A maid draped a shawl over her shoulders to keep her warm.
"Get ready to disembark." Sofia adjusted her wide-brimmed hat and started walking.
As the gangway was lowered, Pavlos, a middle-aged nobleman and the temporary administrator of Ioannina, was already waiting at the dock. Born into an ancient Athenian family, he had been sent to govern this new land, and his face radiated enthusiasm for making a name for himself.
He was dressed in a brand-new military uniform, his medals gleaming. Seeing Sofia descend the gangway, he immediately rushed to greet her, beaming, followed by a group of equally jubilant Greek officials.
"Welcome, Your Highness the Crown Princess!" Pavlos gave an exaggerated chest-touching salute, his voice booming loud enough to be heard throughout half the dock. "Your arrival is like a holy light, illuminating the sky above Ioannina! Please allow me to prepare the grandest welcome ceremony and feast for you; the roast lamb here is guaranteed to be the most delicious in all of Greece!"
He enthusiastically introduced the carriage, leading Sophia to the magnificent carriage that had been prepared.
"Your Highness, you have traveled a long way and must be tired. Please rest at the administrative residence first. You need not worry about those minor troubles in the city!"
A gleam of self-satisfaction shone on Pavlos's face. He lowered his voice, leaned closer to Sophia, and spoke with a tone full of confidence and ruthlessness.
"I have thoroughly investigated all those scum who were bribed by the Ottomans! The list is on my desk! Just give the order, and I guarantee that within three days, those ringleaders of the rebellion will be beheaded!"
Their heads will fill the walls of Joanina!
His words echoed the roar of the Athenian prime minister.
Sofia stopped in her tracks.
She turned her head and looked at the enthusiastic chief executive officer. In his blue eyes, there was no approval, only icy indifference.
"Thank you for your kindness, Commander Pavlos."
Her calm voice brought the other person's incessant chatter to an abrupt halt.
"But the banquet can be held later."
Sofia's gaze passed over Pavlos and the astonished faces of the officials behind him, and looked toward the densely packed Muslim quarter in the distance.
She issued her first order upon arriving in this land.
"Now, please make arrangements for me immediately. I need to visit the highly respected Grand Imam of the city, Elder Sheikh Ibrahim."
These words immediately chilled the atmosphere in the welcoming crowd.
Pavlos's smile froze on his face, and the color drained from his face, turning into an unbelievable pallor.
"Your Highness—what did you say?" He wondered if he had misheard.
"I said, I'm going to see Sheikh Ibrahim," Sofia repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"No! This is too dangerous!" Pavlos cried out, completely panicked, even forgetting the proper etiquette between ruler and subject. "Your Highness, those—those unruly people, their elders, are probably the mastermind behind this rebellion! How can you go to see him? That's a den of dragons and tigers!"
Sofia's eyes sharpened.
"Sir, that's exactly what I'm going to confirm."
"To determine whether he is a mastermind who must be eliminated, or a friend we can unite with."
Having said that, she ignored the stunned Pavlos and turned to her maid, ordering, "Prepare my carriage, no guards."
Sofia's carriage did not head towards the spacious and bright administrative mansion, but instead turned onto a narrow road leading to the Muslim quarter.
This is another side of Ioannina.
The streets were paved with uneven cobblestones, and the houses on both sides were packed tightly together, their walls peeling and many windows boarded up from the inside. The air was filled with a complex mix of spices, livestock, and poverty.
When the carriage entered, almost all the doors were opened.
The streets were lined with silent Muslim residents.
They outnumbered the people on the dock, and their gazes were more direct.
A barrage of gazes, like invisible probes, pierced the simply decorated royal carriage that clashed with its surroundings.
Inside the carriage were only Sofia, her two personal maids, and a nervous-looking Greek-Turkish translator.
Not a single soldier, not a single gun.
The maid's hands gripped the hem of her skirt tightly, her knuckles turning white. The translator's forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat.
Only Sofia remained seated. She lifted a corner of the carriage curtain and quietly watched the wary faces outside the window. She saw hostility in the men's eyes, fear in the women's eyes, and the curiosity in the children's eyes, untainted by hatred.
The carriage finally stopped in front of an unassuming courtyard. This was the residence of the Grand Imam Sheikh Ishaq.
There were no guards, no servants, only an elderly man with gray hair who opened the simple wooden door.
Sofia lifted her skirt and stepped down from the carriage.
She entered the simple reception room. The room was simply furnished, with only a few cushions covered with blankets and a few Islamic calligraphy works hanging on the wall.
The elderly Sheikh Ishaq sat on the cushion in the main seat. He wore a pristine white robe, and his beard was meticulously trimmed. He did not rise, but instead scrutinized the uninvited foreign noblewoman with his weathered, discerning eyes.
Sofia ignored the other person's rudeness.
She did not sit down on the guest's cushion.
Under the astonished gaze of Elder Ishaq and several other Muslim elders, Sofia placed her right hand on her chest and performed a gesture of respect known in the Muslim world.
This action caused a change in the expressions of all the Muslims in the room.
"Elder," Sophia said, her voice echoing clearly in the quiet room through the translator.
"I have come here not in the name of conquerors."
"But rather as a peace envoy."
She got straight to the point, without any pleasantries or small talk.
"In the name of my husband, Crown Prince Constantine of Greece, and even more so in the name of our shared faith in the one and only Lord, I assure you and all believers of the Lord one thing."
She emphasized the phrase "the one and only Lord," a term shared by both Christianity and Islam.
"The Greek royal family will respect your faith and protect your property. We will punish anyone who attempts to disrupt the peace, whether Christian or Muslim."
These words struck Elder Ibrahim's heart like a heavy blow.
All the questions he had prepared—questions about faith, the land, and the future—were stuck in his throat.
He lived for seventy years, met Ottoman governors, European envoys, and countless arrogant conquerors.
He had never seen any conqueror make a promise with such humility and equality, citing their shared beliefs.
Sofia didn't give him much time to process what she had said.
She performed another gesture of respect, touching her chest.
"Excuse me, Elder."
After saying that, she turned around and walked out of the reception room decisively.
She didn't even drink a sip of the tea the other person had prepared, nor did she wait for their response.
She's here to make a statement, not to negotiate.
The room was left with a group of Muslim elders looking at each other in bewilderment, deeply shocked.
After leaving the imam's residence, Sofia did not return to the carriage.
Lifting her skirt, she walked towards the poorest and most dilapidated area of the community amidst countless astonished gazes.
Behind her, Antonio's fleet had already received orders, and cartloads of flour and fabric were being transported to the entrance of the community.
Sophia walked up to the first carriage, which was piled high with sacks of flour.
She rolled up her sleeves, picked up a bag of flour that wasn't too heavy, walked over to a ragged Muslim woman holding a child, and handed the flour to her.
The woman was completely stunned.