World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"He's stalling," Asquith muttered to himself.

Sir Grey, the Foreign Secretary sitting opposite him, nodded: "Clearly, Wilson wants to hear what Chen Feng has to say. Even if there's only a one percent chance of peace, he'll try."

"But we have no time." Asquith threw the telegram on the table. "The situation on the Western Front is deteriorating every day. French morale is on the verge of collapse, and the Russians have practically withdrawn from the war. If Mirika doesn't join the fight, the Germans will be able to concentrate all their forces and break through on the Western Front next spring. By then..."

He didn't finish his sentence. But Gray understood—by then, Britain might have to consider negotiations, and the terms would certainly not be favorable.

"What proposal will Chen Feng put forward?" Gray asked.

"It's nothing more than some kind of peace initiative. Calling for a ceasefire, a return to the negotiating table, the establishment of an international commission, and so on," Asquith sneered. "Sounds appealing, but it depends on the Germans being willing to relinquish the territories they've swallowed—Belgium, northern France, Poland, Serbia. Will they be willing?"

"So Chen Feng's plan is doomed to fail?"

"Not necessarily." Asquith stood up and walked to the fireplace. The fire was burning brightly, but he still felt cold. "Chen Feng is a realist. He probably won't make unrealistic demands like 'restoring the pre-war borders,' but rather propose some kind of... exchange of interests. For example, Germany retaining some occupied territories but compensating Britain and France for their losses; or Germany relinquishing its overseas colonies in exchange for technology exports and market access."

Gray looked at the Prime Minister in surprise: "These ideas... are very creative. But will the German Emperor accept them? What he wants is victory, hegemony."

"What if we lose?" Asquith turned around. "If Micah joins the war, Germany will surely lose. Wilhelm II might be overthrown, the Hohenzollern dynasty might end, and Germany might be dismembered. In contrast, Chen Feng's plan at least allows Germany to exist as a complete nation. If you were the German Emperor, what would you choose?"

The study fell silent. The firewood in the fireplace crackled, and the clock on the wall ticked.

"So Chen Feng might actually be able to bring about peace," Gray said slowly.

"That's exactly what we fear most." Asquith's tone turned stern. "If peace is achieved now, Germany will retain most of its gains, and the balance of power in Europe will be permanently broken. France will decline, Britain will lose its foothold on the continent, and Germany... will become the undisputed hegemon of Europe. Twenty years, maybe ten, they will come back, and next time, we may not have Merika to turn to."

He walked back to his desk and pulled out a document marked "Top Secret".

"The War Department's assessment: If an armistice were to be held now, Germany would control 40 percent of Europe's industrial capacity, 50 percent of its coal, and 60 percent of its steel. Their army would be the best in the world, and their navy would be rapidly catching up. And what about Britain and France? Northern France would be in ruins, and Britain would be heavily indebted. In five years, Germany would be able to recover; in ten years, they would be able to challenge our maritime supremacy."

Gray's face turned pale. "Then what should we do? Disrupt the meeting? But Hawaii is under Miraika's control, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"We can influence public opinion." A cold glint flashed in Asquith's eyes. "We can convince the people of Micah that any peace with Germany is 'Munich-style appeasement,' which will only embolden the dictator. We can convince Wilson that if he accepts the peace plan, history will see him as a coward, not a hero." (A bit of a time-travel reference, hahaha)

"How exactly do we do it?"

"Continue to release evidence of 'German atrocities.' Testimony from Belgian civilians, photos of gas victims, interviews with survivors of sunken merchant ships... all media, all channels, 24/7. Make peace sound like a compromise with evil, like a betrayal of the dead."

Asquith walked to the window. Outside was a London winter night, thick fog blanketing the city, the streetlights appearing as blurry halos. The city had endured two and a half years of war, food shortages, blackouts, and young people constantly disappearing from the streets. But he knew that if he gave up now, all the sacrifices would be in vain.

"Furthermore," he added, "we need to reach out to our allies at Merica—the bankers, industrialists, and media moguls. Let them speak out: peace means debt default, market collapse, and the complete loss of Merica's investments in Europe. Economic reasons are often more persuasive than moral ones."

Gray quickly took notes. As Foreign Secretary, he instinctively abhorred this blatant manipulation, but he also knew that this was war, and war had no clean methods.

"Prime Minister, what if... what if all these efforts fail? What if Wilson still decides to postpone entry into the war and try to make peace?"

Asquith remained silent for a long time. The thick fog outside the window, like some kind of ominous premonition, enveloped the city and the country.

"Then we'll need a backup plan." His voice was soft. "Perhaps it's time to consider contacting Germany separately. While we still have leverage, we should try to secure the best possible terms. But this should be a last resort, understand?"

"clear."

After Gray left, Asquith stood alone in his study. He took a photograph from a drawer—a group photo of the entire cabinet in August 1914, just as the war had broken out. At that time, their expressions were serious but resolute, believing that the war would end before Christmas. Now, half of the people in the photo were gone—some had resigned, some had died of illness, and some had been ousted in political struggles.

The war continues, devouring everything.

The phone rang. Asquith answered it.

"Prime Minister, the Navy reports that our reconnaissance ships have spotted the Lanfang Fleet in the Indian Ocean. They are transiting the Sunda Strait and entering the Pacific Ocean. They are moving at high speed and their course is clear."

"Continue monitoring. But do not provoke or intercept."

"clear."

Hanging up the phone, Asquith looked at the world map on the wall. A small red pin represented the Lanfang Fleet, sailing from Asia towards the Americas. And ahead of it lay a crucial meeting that would determine the course of the war.

He suddenly recalled the Chinese military strategy he had read in his youth: "To subdue the enemy without fighting is the supreme excellence."

Chen Feng is trying this path. But Asquith knows that some wars cannot be resolved through negotiation. Because the root of the conflict is not interests, not territory, but the fundamental opposition between two civilizations and two world orders.

Either the German-led order prevails, or the Anglo-American-led order prevails. There is no middle ground.

That's why, even though it's exhausting, painful, and costly, this war must be fought to the very end.

The fire in the fireplace gradually died down. Asquith didn't add any more wood, letting it go out. The room darkened, with only the faint light from the fog lamp outside the window.

In the darkness, he whispered, "God bless England."

But God seems to have left this war behind.