World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Lord Kitchener slammed his fist on the table, making his coffee cup jump. "This is a provocation! A blatant provocation! They're right under our noses—only fifty kilometers from the Sinai Line! While our soldiers are bleeding and fighting, taking land inch by inch from the Turks, these Easterners have acquired more territory than we've fought two years of hard-fought battles for with just a few sheets of paper!"

His voice echoed in the conference room, and the portrait of Queen Victoria on the wall seemed to tremble.

"Calm down, Kitchener," Prime Minister Herbert Henry Asquith finally spoke. The 64-year-old Liberal leader placed his hands on the table, his fingers slightly bent due to arthritis. "Getting angry won't solve anything. What we need are solutions, not shouting."

He turned to Smith-Cumming: "Director, what's the combat capability assessment of Lanfang's division?"

The intelligence chief opened another document: "According to reports from our observers in Dubai, the Lanfang Army has undergone a complete modernization over the past three years. Their 1st Mechanized Infantry Division is a model unit: fully motorized, equipped with semi-automatic rifles, machine guns down to the squad level, and artillery with radio-coordinated fire capabilities. More importantly—"

He paused, his tone becoming serious: "They have a secret testing ground outside Dubai. Our reconnaissance personnel have photographed objects resembling 'armored vehicles' multiple times, but the photos are blurry and their specific capabilities cannot be confirmed. However, one thing is certain: Lanfang's industrial capabilities are growing at an astonishing rate. If they can build super battleships like the Bismarck-class, then in terms of land warfare equipment..."

"Tanks." A deep voice interrupted him.

Everyone turned to look. The speaker was Sir Ernest Swinton, the Director of Ordnance—the forty-eight-year-old officer with the meticulous features of an engineer, his brow furrowed at that moment.

"Sir?" Asquith gestured for him to continue.

Swinton stood up and walked to the blackboard on the wall. He picked up the chalk and began to sketch quickly: "For the past six months, the 'Land Battleship Committee' that I lead has been developing a new type of weapon—we call it a 'tank.' The principle is to use tracks to cross trenches, armor to withstand machine gun fire, and a vehicle-mounted cannon to destroy machine gun bunkers."

He drew a diamond-shaped outline on the blackboard and labeled the dimensions: "Mark I, combat weight 28 tons, crew of eight. Armored with two 57mm cannons and four machine guns. Armor thickness 6-12mm, capable of withstanding rifle bullets and shrapnel. Maximum speed 6 km/h, off-road speed 3 km/h. The first batch of fifty vehicles has arrived in France next week and is planned for deployment in the Battle of the Somme."

He put down the chalk and turned to face the cabinet members: "This is the pride of the Empire, our hope for breaking the trench stalemate. But—"

Swinton's voice suddenly became dry: "But according to intelligence from our Berlin informants, the Germans obtained similar equipment from Lanfang. And... its performance might be even better."

"What?!" Kitchener's eyes widened.

"We don't have exact figures yet," Swinton said with a wry smile. "The Germans are very good at keeping things secret. But there are a few signs: First, Krupp's orders for special steel have increased fivefold in three months, with a requirement for 'lightweight, high-hardness armor plates'; second, MAN's truck production line has suddenly switched to producing 'special vehicle chassis'; third, and most importantly—"

He walked back to his seat and pulled a blurry photograph from his briefcase: "This was taken by our reconnaissance plane outside Port Wilhelmshaven. Although blurry, you can make out the outline of the vehicle... It's more streamlined than our Mark I, with a more compact turret and a different track design."

The photos were passed around among the people. Although the pixels were rough, the beauty of industrial design—or rather, its lethal beauty—was faintly visible.

Belfort stared at the photograph and muttered, "Chen Feng sold us the best warships, and then sold even better tanks to the Germans. What trick is he playing?"

"A balance," Sir Grey said coldly, "keeping both sides hopeful, but not enough for either to win. He keeps the war going so he can continue selling arms and resources, expanding his sphere of influence. This man... is a shrewd businessman, but even more so, a ruthless strategist."

Asquith closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. His migraine had flared up again, feeling like awls were pounding inside his skull.

"Gentlemen," he began slowly, "we now face several facts: first, the Lanfang army has already established a presence on our flank; second, they may have provided Germany with more advanced tank technology than we have; and third, they have a legal footing—that land was 'granted' to them by the Ottomans, and we have not actually... occupied it."

Kitchener panicked: "Prime Minister! Are we just going to stand by and watch?"

"No." Asquith opened his eyes, a sharp glint in his tired blue eyes. "We must protest, we must exert pressure, we must let them know the Empire's bottom line. But at the same time... we cannot let this escalate into conflict. The Western Front needs every soldier, every shell."

He looked at Gray: "Edward, send a telegram to Chen Feng in my name. The wording should be strong, but leave room for maneuver. Question them about why they violated their promise of 'not intervening in the European war,' and demand that they immediately clarify their intentions."

"What if he doesn't clarify?" Balfour asked.

"Then let the Consul General in Dubai ask him personally," Asquith said. "Gerald is an old hand; he knows how to be polite yet barbed. We need to make Chen Feng understand: the British Empire can tolerate many things, but it cannot tolerate others making arbitrary moves on our chessboard."

He paused for a moment, then added, "Also, inform General French on the Sinai front: increase vigilance, but do not provoke. If the Lanfang army crosses the concession zone boundary—even by just one meter—open fire immediately. But if they stay within the red line… treat them as a mirage in the desert."

"What about the tanks?" Swinton asked eagerly. "If the Germans really do have better ones..."

"Accelerate the development of the Mark II," Asquith ordered. "At the same time, MI6 must use all resources to find out exactly what Lanfang sold to the Germans. If necessary... we can contact people inside Lanfang to see if they are willing to sell us the same technology."

Smith-Cumming gave a wry smile: "Prime Minister, Chen Feng has extremely strict internal control. We've been building our intelligence network in Dubai for three years, and we still haven't been able to infiltrate his inner circle."

"Then let's find a way." Asquith stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "Gentlemen, we are experiencing the most difficult period in the Empire's three hundred years. A quagmire on the western front, pressure on the eastern front, a strangulation war at sea, and now the rise of the Easterners. But remember—"

His gaze swept over everyone: "—The British Empire has weathered even darker times. We survived when Napoleon's army approached the Strait of Dover, when the Spanish Armada sailed into the English Channel. This time, we will find a way out too."

After speaking, he walked out of the meeting room first. In the corridor, his secretary handed him a draft telegram. Asquith took the pen and signed his name at the end.

The telegram will travel via undersea cable, across the Mediterranean Sea, the Red Sea, and the Indian Ocean, and reach Dubai within 24 hours.

Meanwhile, the recipient is 7,000 kilometers away in the East, awaiting the first round of this game.