The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 922 Tsar, let's serve the British Empire as slaves for another eighteen months!

Charlottenburg Palace, Berlin.

The oak-paneled study was filled with the somber scent of cigars and old papers. Emperor William removed his gold-rimmed spectacles, his fingertips tracing the parchment report presented by the General Staff. Saipan on the nautical chart was circled sharply in red pencil, like a bleeding scar—a scar of the British Empire, of course!
Bismarck stood by the window, his body, clad in a grey-blue uniform, as silent as the Prussian permafrost; Count Moltke, Chief of the General Staff, cast a sharp shadow on his aquiline nose under the bamboo-light bulb; Admiral Georg Leo von Kaprivi's gaze was deep and his face expressionless. Meanwhile, 24-year-old Prince William stood ramrod straight beside his grandfather's chair, his eyes fixed on the tonnage figures marked on the nautical chart—26 ships, 98,000 long tons of steel, buried in the Pacific Ocean.

“Five battleships, four armored cruisers…” The old emperor’s voice was aged and hoarse, with a hint of schadenfreude. “Three hundred years of British naval supremacy were blasted into a hornet’s nest by the Taiping Rebellion’s cannonballs.” He suddenly looked up, his cloudy old eyes flashing with a sharp light. “Tell me, Caprivie, are these iron coffins that sank into the Mariana Trench the Royal Navy’s sharpest sword?”

General Caprivi, who had switched allegiance to become the First Lord of the Navy, shook his head: “Your Majesty, the sunken Trafalgar-class, Vengeance-class, and Indomitable-class ships were all early remedial products of the ‘Project 140’. Their keels were laid before the project was even launched, and their armor layout was still based on outdated thinking.” He strode forward and unfurled a scroll of blueprints. “The real swords are here—the Duncan-class ships had a speed of 20 knots, and their main guns could penetrate 8 inches of steel armor from 10,000 yards away; the Old Man Star-class ships were designed specifically to hunt armored cruisers; and there were also the Royal Sovereignty-class, the Majesty-class, and the Formidable-class ships, all slow-moving battleships with strong defenses and sharp guns; and the Sovereignty-class…” He pointed heavily at the cross-section of the 16000-ton behemoth, “with four 305mm heavy guns and 234mm secondary main guns, the firepower density was 1.5 times that of the Sea Dragon-class! There are 34 such capital ships currently in service, and 12 more on the slipway!”

Prince William suddenly interrupted, his young face flushed with excitement: "But the Taiping army annihilated the British squadron with only eight battleships! Their 'gunnery witches' can locate British warships in the dark..."

"That must be because the British have neglected their training!" Emperor William coldly interrupted his grandson.

Moltke then placed a stack of frontline telegrams on the table. “This is a list of optical equipment that the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom has purchased from the German Empire through intermediaries—the Tang Empire in Central Asia—over the past few years. If they can really aim using magic, why would they buy our optical equipment? In fact, they have similar equipment themselves, just not as good as ours.”

He turned to the Emperor, his gray beard trembling violently. “Your Majesty, the Army has now seen a turning point! The 'MK.1 steam tanks' deployed by the Eastern Federation on the Colorado front have astonishing breakthrough capabilities!” He unfolded a hand-drawn sketch: a steel behemoth encased in riveted steel plates rolling over trenches at 6 miles per hour, its 37mm infantry gun spitting fire from its rotating turret. “We have secretly purchased two, and Krupp is dissecting and improving them. If we replace them with Daimler gasoline engines, increase the armor to 30mm, and significantly improve reliability, we can mass-produce 200 within 18 months—enough to tear apart the French 'Karl Mohr Line'!”

The old emperor's withered fingers tapped the table, like the muffled beat of a war drum. Bismarck finally emerged from the shadows, his iron-gray eyes sweeping over the crowd: "The British navy still has its foundation. Although the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom is aggressive, its overall strength is still weaker than Britain's. It is unlikely to gain an overwhelming advantage in the next year and a half. And these eighteen months..." A cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth, "are our golden age of serving Queen Victoria faithfully."

Prince William was taken aback: "Prime Minister, are we going to continue to tolerate the British fleet's rampage in the North Sea?"

“Tolerance?” Bismarck grabbed a copy of The Times, the front page emblazoned with the bold headline “A Disgrace to the Royal Navy.” “We must help the British wipe away their tears! Reduce the price of Alsatian iron ore by another 30%, and prioritize supplying Portsmouth shipyard with Ruhr coking coal. Let London believe that Germany is willing to be her continental shield against the Yellow Peril.” He turned to the Secretary of the Navy, “As for those five ‘Prussian-class’ ships in the Venice dockyard…”

Stoch lowered his voice: "The keel of the first ship has been laid, and the composite armor belt is thicker than that of the 'Monarch-class'. The 280mm main guns are equipped with hardened capped armor-piercing shells. However, the steam turbine technology is stuck at the bearing sealing stage, which will require at least..."

"I'll give you eighteen months." The old emperor suddenly rose, slamming his scepter heavily on the ground. "Tell the Tsar of St. Petersburg—Germany and Italy are willing to be slaves for another eighteen months! But after these five hundred and forty days and nights..." He walked to the window, where the twilight in Berlin was dotted with gaslights, like the still-burning gunfire across the land. "We want to hear the roar of the 'Prussian-class battleships' from the Adriatic Sea, and to see the carcasses of French soldiers crushed by gasoline tanks in the Vosges Mountains! I want to see the Carolingian Empire reappear in Europe in my lifetime!"

After delivering a passionate declaration, he said to Bismarck, "Go tell the Russians that we will be slaves to the British for another eighteen months, and then..." He clenched his fist tightly!
The oak door closed silently behind Bismarck, and the bronze chandelier of the Russian embassy cast his shadow long, into a gigantic, iron-gray figure. Count Ignatiev, stirring his tea with a silver spoon, watched the Iron Chancellor warily: "Your Highness's late-night visit—does it mean your country has lost faith in the British Empire, the leader of NATO?"

Bismarck smiled slightly: "I believe Britain has 18 months to prove itself worthy of the position of Western leader!"

"18 months?" The Russian ambassador narrowed his eyes—he certainly knew the significance of those 18 months!
This was a "test period" for the first white empire to assess the situation. If the British Empire could not suppress the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom after 18 months, then the German Empire would seek hegemony on the European continent.

And wasn't the Russian Empire also waiting for this day?

Although the Russian Empire, this "Third Reich of the Whites," was somewhat weak, everything would be fine once Constantinople was captured. But would Germany agree? The Russian ambassador looked at Bismarck.

The kerosene lamp on the oak table flickered slightly as Bismarck slowly unfolded a yellowed map of Europe, his fingertips pressing heavily on the location of Paris. "What His Majesty Alexander desires is Constantinople," he said in a low voice, as if his voice had been ground from rust, "while Germany desires Paris."

Count Ignatiev, the Russian ambassador, narrowed his eyes slightly. He understood the weight of those words—Constantinople, the millennium-old imperial capital spanning Eurasia, the "Third Rome" that the Tsars had dreamed of. And Paris, the last obstacle to the German Empire's complete dominance of the entire European continent, excluding Eastern Europe.

“The German army will launch a full-scale offensive against Red France in eighteen months.” Bismarck’s voice was calm and sharp, as if he were stating a military plan that had already been decided. “Our army will tear apart the Karl Mohr Line, and Russia…” He raised his head, his eyes like knives, “must declare war on the Ottoman Empire at the same time and capture Constantinople.”

Count Ignatiev paused for a moment, then slowly said, "Your Excellency the Prime Minister, you are asking Russia to face pressure from both the Ottoman Empire and Britain at the same time."

“No, we will face the pressure from Britain together,” Bismarck sneered. “However, I think Britain will be too busy taking care of itself by then.”

He pointed to the Middle East and North Africa on the map: "Once Constantinople falls, the Ottoman Empire will collapse. Asia Minor, Syria, Persia, Egypt, Yemen, Palestine... these can all become spoils of war for Russia and Germany."

“And the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom…” he paused, “they have already severely damaged the British fleet in the Pacific. If we give them another year and a half, Britain’s maritime hegemony will be completely shaken. By then, we will need a new world order.”

Count Ignatiev narrowed his eyes: "You mean... Russia, Germany, and the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom jointly govern the world?"

“Exactly.” Bismarck nodded slightly. “Germany controls Western Europe and North Africa, Russia controls Eastern Europe and the Near East, and the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom dominates the Pacific and its surrounding areas. As for Britain…” A cold smile appeared on his lips. “Let them retreat to the British Isles and be a second-rate country.”

The Russian ambassador remained silent for a long time before finally nodding slowly: "His Majesty the Tsar will consider it. But on the condition that Germany ensures that Russia's actions in Constantinople will not be interfered with by Britain."

“Of course.” Bismarck stood up and took out a draft of a secret treaty that he had prepared beforehand. “This is the promise of the German Empire—we will declare war on Red France and the Ottoman Empire together. If Britain wants to fight Russia, then let them fight Germany as well!”

Count Ignatiev took the document, quickly glanced through it, and then smiled with satisfaction: "Very good. Now, one last question—you mentioned in the draft secret agreement what you hoped the Tang Empire would do?"

A glint of light flashed in Bismarck's eyes: "Send them to make contact with the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom."

"The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom is currently wreaking havoc on the British fleet in the Pacific, but sooner or later they will realize that the real enemy is not Britain, but the future world order," he whispered. "The Tang Empire can act as an intermediary to test the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's attitude—if they are willing to accept the joint rule of Russia, Germany, and the Taiping, then the future world will no longer be dominated by Britain."

The Russian ambassador pondered for a moment, then finally nodded: "I will report to St. Petersburg."

Bismarck smiled slightly and reached out to shake his hand: "Then, eighteen months from now, the world will usher in a new era."

(End of this chapter)