World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

It was already dark when Hindenburg left the palace.

He stood on the steps by the door, gazing at the distant sky dyed red by the setting sun. The buildings in Berlin appeared particularly solemn in the sunset; the spires of the churches, the tall government buildings, and the neat rows of apartment buildings all stood silently in the golden-red light.

Ludendorff walked over to him and stood beside him.

"Marshal, are you really going?"

Hindenburg nodded.

"His Majesty has given the order; I cannot disobey."

Ludendorff remained silent for a few seconds.

Do you think Italians are sincere?

Hindenburg did not answer immediately. He stared at the increasingly dark sky in the distance for a long time.

Then he said softly, "Ludendorff, you know, I've lived for seventy years and seen countless betrayals."

Ludendorff remained silent.

"I've seen politicians betray their ideals, generals betray their soldiers, and nations betray their allies. But I've never seen a person betray three times in two years."

He turned to look at Ludendorff.

"The Italians aren't here to form an alliance. They're here to take advantage. If we win on the Western Front, they'll side with us and get a share. If we lose, they'll side with Britain and France and kick us while we're down."

Ludendorff frowned. "Then why are you still going?"

Hindenburg gave a wry smile.

"Because His Majesty needs hope. For the first time in three years, he has seen a glimmer of hope for a turnaround. I cannot dampen his spirits at this crucial moment."

He walked down the steps and toward the car parked by the roadside.

After taking a few steps, he suddenly stopped and looked back at Ludendorff.

"Ludendorff, remember this—don't believe anything the Italians promise. Don't believe a single word they say."

Ludendorff nodded.

Hindenburg got into the car, the door closed, and the car slowly drove away from the palace.

Ludendorff stood alone on the steps, watching the car disappear into the night.

At the same time, Tirpitz sat in his study, with the thick intelligence report on Lanfang spread out in front of him.

He read it over and over again, examining each page meticulously. The numbers, the place names, the timelines—every detail in the intelligence Chen Feng had given him was crystal clear.

The Malayan campaign: 42,000 dead, expected to end on November 20.

Burma Campaign: 53,000 dead, with the entire territory expected to be captured by December 10th.

The Indian campaign is expected to begin in January next year and end in March.

The Australian campaign is expected to begin in February next year and end in May.

Tirpitz looked at those time points and silently calculated in his mind.

It is November 15th. If all goes well, India will be captured by March next year. In April, the combined forces of Lanfang and Japan will be free to act. In May, the first batch of troops will be able to board ships and set sail. In July, they will reach Europe.

Eight months.

If Germany can hold on for another eight months, things will turn around.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in."

A young man in military uniform walked in; he was his adjutant.

"Marshal, His Majesty has sent someone to see you."

Tirpitz paused for a moment: "Now?"

"Yes. The car is already waiting at the door."

Tirpitz stood up, straightened his collar, and walked out of the study.

The lights were dim in Wilhelm II’s study.

When Tirpitz entered, Wilhelm II was standing by the window, gazing at the pitch-black night outside. Hearing footsteps, he turned around and pointed to the sofa.

"Please sit down, Marshal."

Tirpitz sat down on the sofa. Wilhelm II walked over and sat down opposite him.

The two remained silent for a few seconds.

"Marshal," Wilhelm II finally spoke, "tell the truth, do you really believe that Lanfang will send troops to help us?"

Tirpitz looked at him and remained silent for a few seconds.

"Your Majesty, do you want to hear the truth?"

"I want to hear it."

Tirpitz nodded.

"Then I'll be honest—I'm not sure."

Wilhelm II was taken aback.

"Are you unsure?"

Tirpitz nodded.

"Your Majesty, Chen Feng is a clever man. Very clever. Every decision he makes is for the benefit of Lanfang. Sending troops to Europe—what good would that do for Lanfang? He must have calculated it all perfectly."

He paused, then lowered his voice.

"I spent seven days in Dubai and spoke with him three times. Each time, he spoke very eloquently. 'Germany and Lanfang are natural allies,' 'Lanfang will remember the blood shed by Germany,' 'After the war, we will rebuild Europe together'—but anyone can say nice things. I don't know what he will choose when it really comes down to making sacrifices."

Wilhelm II remained silent.

Tirpitz continued, "But I know one thing."

"What?"

"Chen Feng understood better than anyone that letting Germany fall would not benefit Lanfang. If Britain won decisively, they would regain their position as the world's superpower. At that time, all of Lanfang's achievements in Asia would be gradually eroded by the British."

He looked up at Wilhelm II.

"Therefore, Your Majesty, I am not sure if Lanfang will send troops. But I am certain that Chen Feng will do everything in his power to keep the war going. The longer it drags on, the stronger Lanfang will become. When everyone is exhausted, they will be able to clean up the mess."

Wilhelm II remained silent for a long time.

Then he asked, "So what should we do?"

Tirpitz looked at him.

"Wait. Wait until Lanfang takes India, wait until they are free to deal with it. In the meantime, stabilize Italy, stabilize Austria-Hungary, and stabilize our own front."

He stood up and walked to the window.

"Your Majesty, this war is no longer just a war between us and Britain and France. Lanfang has joined, and Meilika will soon join as well. This is a world war—a real world war. The outcome will not be decided by us, not by Britain, not even by Germany, but by those who have not yet given their all."

Wilhelm II walked over to him and stood beside him.

"You mean, Melika?"

Tirpitz nodded.

"Merica has a population of 100 million, boundless industrial capacity, and inexhaustible resources. Once they commit themselves fully, none of us can stop them."

He turned to look at Wilhelm II.

"Therefore, Your Majesty, we must buy time. We must buy time so that Lanfang can be free, so that we can fight alongside Lanfang. Only in this way will we have a chance—not to win, but to avoid defeat."

At 3 a.m., Hindenburg’s special train slowly pulled out of Berlin’s train station.

The old marshal sat by the car window, gazing at the pitch-black night outside. In the distance, the lights of Berlin grew farther and farther away, fainter and fainter, until they finally disappeared completely into the darkness.

He held a document in his hand—a power of attorney personally signed by Wilhelm II, authorizing him to represent Germany in negotiations with Italy.

The authorization letter was written simply, but every word conveyed the emperor's expectations.

"We should have frank discussions with the Italian representatives to strive for an agreement that is beneficial to Germany. If necessary, we may make concessions as appropriate."