Conquer Europe from the West

Chapter 162 Churchill frowned

It's normal that supplies from the rear will be relatively scarce.

After all, the actual front line is still about 50 kilometers away from Ostend.

For both artillery and infantry, this was a distance that would take at least a week to advance.

Even in combat, it would take at least three days to cross such a long distance.

Not to mention that the Empire has also built a defensive line of more than 500 kilometers along the entire front using modular blast walls and cement.

For the Farran people now, all they can do is watch helplessly as the Empire builds more and more semi-permanent fortifications at a rate of one kilometer per day.

but.

This applies to the Farrans.

To the people of the United Kingdom, the things the Empire did during this period seemed completely different.

At this time, in Lundern, the capital of the United Kingdom, at Downing Street.

Two young men in suits left the Prime Minister's residence carrying a stack of documents, and immediately got into a car that had been prepared beforehand.

This vehicle, bearing the colonial governor's exclusive license plate, would travel as quickly as possible to the post office and deliver the prime minister's signed order to the various colonies by telegram.

This is exactly what they have been doing for the past few months—the prime minister signs off on a demand for 2,000 tons of food, the named colonies load the food onto ships at the designated time, and it is eventually transported to the designated destination.

The second floor of 10 Downing Street.

Churchill, wearing a bathrobe and with a cigar in his mouth, gazed out the window with somewhat cloudy eyes.

The sky over Lundern was as gray as ever, but only those who had witnessed modern warfare could tell that the sky here was exactly the same as the gray skies characteristic of battlefields.

The drizzling rain in this mild winter made people more irritable. Pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages passed by on the road, and the faint smell of livestock and various perfumes seemed to have come to life, filling the streets.

Churchill, of course, couldn't smell those odors, but what he could sense was even more nauseating than those.

Asquith's daughter stood by the door of the drawing room with a young officer, and on the table in front of them was a pile of documents that had not yet been looked at.

"The Empire has completely withdrawn its troops from the Empire's territory. This news came at the end of last month, Your Excellency the Prime Minister."

Seeing that Churchill had no intention of reading the documents, the young officer, with Ms. Asquith's permission, began to report the intelligence he had to present: "In the October campaign, the Empire simultaneously defeated the Imperial First and Second Armies within fifteen days. According to our military attaché stationed in the Empire, the Empire actually committed only its Eighth Army and a small number of troops from the Ninth Army to the battlefield."

"The Empire currently has over 300,000 soldiers who have become prisoners of the Empire, and the Empire seems prepared to demand that the Empire make an unconditional surrender request, otherwise they will not allow those 300,000 soldiers to return to the Empire."

"The Tsar has not yet responded, but it is certain that the Empire seems to be preparing to amass another force for the next battle. At the same time, they have not informed the Kingdom and Farland of their next steps through diplomatic channels as we expected."

"The Ministry of Defense believes that we should maintain the current situation as much as possible, rather than heeding the Empire's demands and risking having our troops continue to fight the Empire."

"But His Majesty the King and some officers of the General Staff believe that the Empire has consumed a great deal of its resources in the previous aid to Farland, and this is an excellent opportunity. Moreover, if we want to launch an offensive, starting before Christmas would be a good choice."

After saying this, the young officer took half a step back, lowered his head, and said no more.

A long silence once again enveloped the entire living room. The firewood in the fireplace crackled as it burned, and sparks flew out, only to be stopped by a sudden burst of light, dissipating helplessly into the air and turning into tiny black dots.

Churchill paced back and forth in the drawing room, muttering incomprehensible words, but Mrs. Asquith knew he was repeating what the officer had said earlier.

She turned her gaze to the officer beside her, then back to Churchill: "MI6 is now awaiting your response. They need the Cabinet's opinion before they can continue their work."

Churchill did not answer her, but instead sat down on the sofa closest to the fireplace and casually tossed the last bit of his cigar into the fireplace.

A faint smoky aroma wafted from the fireplace, and the sparks jumped higher than before, but still couldn't break free from the confinement of that layer of light, and could only fall helplessly back to the bottom of the fireplace.

The sound of rain outside the window became clearer, and the occasional gust of wind left its mark on the outside. Some sounds even traveled down the chimney into the fireplace and eventually reached the ears of the three people present.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Churchill stopped muttering and turned to the young officer with his slightly narrowed eyes, asking, "Sir Cumming, is there anything else you wish to report?"

The officer immediately stood at attention and said, "That's all, Your Excellency the Prime Minister."

"Then let him continue gathering intelligence. Also, please tell him for me that the information we have so far is not enough to give him the confidence to break ties with the Empire."

Upon hearing this, the officer, who had previously maintained a calm expression, immediately changed his demeanor. He even forgot to salute and simply turned and left 10 Downing Street, running towards his unit.

Ms. Asquith wanted to follow, but Churchill stopped her: "Don't worry about him. Sir Cumming isn't the kind of person who would make it sound like the Kingdom has to fight the Empire to the death to maintain the Kingdom's position."

"Then he..."

Ms. Asquith glanced again in the direction of the door, but could only see the figure of a guard.

"It was probably requested by Sir Cumming's men."

Churchill lit another cigar, took a small puff, and said, "It's perfectly normal for the Imperial Society to be driven out by the Empire. Their troops are disorganized, poorly equipped, not to mention they rely heavily on cavalry..."

The scene of seeing the Imperial fleet a few months ago subconsciously flashed through his mind.

The massive warship, weighing tens of thousands of tons, pushed through the seawater, its powerful cannons raised high, and sailors stood on the ship's side, their imposing gazes fixed on the distant coast and the long line of destroyers.

"We should have sunk the Empire's flagship back then!"

These were Asquith's private words after signing a treaty with the Empire.

Churchill didn't quite agree with this statement at the time, but he now understands that the main reason the Empire was able to withstand pressure from both the Farland and the Imperial State was due to the Imperial officials and soldiers on the Frederick the Great.

If they had been able to send the emperor, his ministers, and officers to the bottom of the sea back then, the empire would surely be the kingdom's possession now...

No.

Suddenly, Churchill shook his head.

An empire can never be the sole possession of a kingdom—it never has, it never will, and it never will. The kingdom's foundation lies at sea; it's best to refrain from interfering in matters on land.

He then turned to Ms. Asquith, who was standing to one side: "How has your father been lately?"

Asquith had been suffering from some minor health problems, which had become more serious after the last meeting with the Empire.

Of course, Churchill saw it as nothing more than a psychological ailment, a natural psychological reaction that arises when older people encounter more assertive young people and are then criticized by them for their words and actions.

However, in reality, Asquith has been bedridden for a month and is only able to work with the help of two maids and several nurses.

This is not a good thing.

Not to mention his daughter.

Violet is wearing a black dress that is neither plain nor luxurious, and the wool shawl she's wearing for winter is also a very dignified style. It's an outfit that's suitable for various occasions.

That's right, in all sorts of situations.

Therefore, even without saying a word, those around Violet could guess from her attire that Asquith's current situation was not good.

as predicted.

Violet's expression changed very subtly immediately after Churchill asked the question.

Her right hand instinctively gripped the crook of her left arm. The elegant leather purse reflected the light from the lamp and fireplace, and her bright eyes had lost their former liveliness: "Father has been able to eat a little meat lately, but the doctor says he's exhausted and needs rest. However, many Liberal Party members write to him every day inquiring about his official duties..."

She didn't finish her sentence, because Violet wasn't sure if she, in her position, could criticize those gentlemen for being too dependent on others.

Churchill noticed her distress and sighed repeatedly, as if he were trying to expel all the unhappiness that had accumulated in his lungs. After a while, he beckoned to the guard standing at the door and ordered him to call his wife over.

"Tell the butler and maids to stop doing this. Get him more fruit and porridge. If that's not enough, I know a good private doctor here..."

“He can stay at your home temporarily and take care of your father until he recovers, I mean, if needed.”

Violet didn't speak, but just looked at the carpet at her feet, as if she was thinking, or as if she was accepting the kindness of her idol.

Just then, accompanied by a series of hurried footsteps, a woman in a white dress appeared in front of the reception room.

As soon as she entered the drawing room, she was startled by Churchill and Violet's appearance, but instead of yelling, she said slowly in a deeply shocked tone, "Winston! How can you stand in front of an unmarried lady dressed like this!"

"Didn't I just take a shower? Am I supposed to put on a suit with my butt wet and then keep grabbing at my shorts in front of the guests?"

Churchill had long suspected he might be criticized, but he didn't expect it to happen so quickly.

As he spoke, he stood up, hiding himself completely under his bathrobe, and pointed to the telephone beside him with his cigar-smoking finger: "Lord Asquith's health is deteriorating, and I think I should at least do something for him."

"Is this true, Violet?"

Ms. Clementine immediately forgot what she was about to say and turned to look at Violet.

"As His Excellency the Prime Minister said."

Violet knew that her brothers couldn't really help in this matter, so she could only nod: "Just now, His Excellency the Prime Minister wanted to introduce a doctor who could provide home care..."

“Baron Moran, is it?” Mrs. Clementine glanced back at Churchill, though she still wanted to say a few words to him, but she immediately turned away, took Violet’s hand, and walked toward the foyer, where there was a telephone for the Prime Minister’s family.

The meeting room returned to calm.

The guards wisely closed the door, leaving Churchill alone inside.

He didn't think about anything else, and just strolled around the reception room with his cigar in his mouth.

After some time, just as he began to feel the air becoming somewhat stuffy, the documents that had been delivered by MI6 earlier caught his attention.

But what he cared about was not intelligence concerning the Empire, France, or even the colonies.

The Empire's intelligence was actually not worth mentioning.

What truly caught his attention was a piece of intelligence concerning the Ottoman Empire and another concerning the Empire's naval forces.

"Is the Ottoman Empire preparing to form an alliance with Mediterranean countries?"

As he looked at the words on the document, Churchill frowned deeply, not even noticing the cigar ash that had burned his bathrobe, leaving black spots.

The more he looked down, the stronger his doubts became.

"The Empire is also in the alliance? What are they planning?"

"Once the alliance is formed, all countries along the Mediterranean coast will be exempt from tariffs, and duty-free shipping routes and new long-distance railway systems will be established to facilitate the transport of goods and the movement of people between the countries."

The Mediterranean Sea is a vast inland ocean surrounded by landmasses, accessible only through a strait and the Suez Canal. Its coastal countries include Farland, Thalia, the Ottoman Empire, and a host of smaller nations.

If an alliance can be formed under these circumstances, while the threat to the kingdom will not be too great, it will still be able to restrain the kingdom in some way.

This is not a good thing.

Churchill was already feeling nervous.

He began to think, to think about what exactly was going on.

But he soon discovered something even more alarming.

Because right below this document, there was an even more important document.

"It appears that the Imperial Navy has begun modernization refits, with six new warships already having completed the process?"

Churchill had a bad feeling!
(End of this chapter)