Chapter 341: Who Is the Sheep? Who Is the Tiger?

London, Navy Department Operations Room, 3:00 p. m. on June 2.

The atmosphere in the room is so heavy it seems about to drip water. In front of the massive North Sea map on the wall, six senior officers and staff stand around, each staring at the tiny magnets that mark fleet positions.

The red magnets representing the Yingguo fleet are split into two groups: one in the northern North Sea, labeled "Bei Di Fleet"; the other farther south, labeled "Jieli Ke Main Force". The blue magnets representing the Deguo fleet are also split into two groups: one near the Danish Strait, labeled "Xi Pe Er Reconnaissance Fleet"; the other just departed from William Port, labeled "She Er Main Force", its position still uncertain.

"Latest intelligence," Major General Huo Er, Director of Naval Intelligence, points at the map, "Our submarine, fifty nautical miles west of Helgoran Bay, has detected signs of a large fleet departing. At least twenty large vessels, heading northwest at 16 knots."

"It's She Er's main force," First Sea Minister Major General Si Tu Di judges, "They finally emerged from the cave."

"What about the Bei Di side?" someone asks.

"The Bei Di Fleet is pursuing Xi Pe Er," a staff officer reports. "The latest telegram shows both sides have already exchanged fire in the Danish Strait, but only long‑range artillery, no substantive contact. Now Xi Pe Er is retreating southeast, and Bei Di is in hot pursuit."

General Jieli Ke stands before the map, hands clasped behind his back, expression calm, but a sharp glint in his eyes. He has stood like that for half an hour, motionless, like a statue.

"Distance," he finally says, voice calm, "the Distance between the Bei Di Fleet and the Xi Pe Er Fleet?"

"About twenty nautical miles, General," the staff replies, "Bei Di's speed is 22 knots, Xi Pe Er's also 22 knots. Both have maintained this Distance for three hours now."

"Too obvious," Si Tu Di frowns, "Xi Pe Er is deliberately keeping the Distance. He's luring Bei Di."

"We know, and Bei Di knows," Jieli Ke says, "but Bei Di will still chase. Because he wants to fight, he needs a victory."

He walks to the chart table, picks up a compass and ruler, and begins calculating.

"If Xi Pe Er continues retreating southeast, and Bei Di keeps pursuing… after six hours they will reach here." He marks a spot with his pencil, "Duoge Tan Southeast, latitude 56° N, longitude 5° E."

"That is…" Major General Huo Er leans in, "central North Sea. About the same Distance from us and them."

"An ideal ambush point," Jieli Ke puts down his pencil, "She Er's main fleet, its target is there. They intend to lie in wait, let Bei Di come in, then suddenly appear and catch him off guard."

The room falls silent. Everyone realizes the danger of the plan—if Bei Di truly pursues into the ambush zone, his fleet could suffer heavy losses.

"We should order Bei Di to cease pursuit," a staff officer suggests.

"No," Jieli Ke shakes his head, "that would play right into the Deguo's hands. They want us cautious, want us to retreat. We cannot give them that signal."

He turns to face everyone: "Send a message to Bei Di: continue the pursuit, but stay alert. Once signs of the Deguo main fleet are detected, turn immediately and close in on the main fleet."

"What if we encounter the Deguo main fleet?" Si Tu Di asks.

"Then we fight," Jieli Ke says calmly, "that is why we set sail. At sea, we will battle the Deguo open‑sea fleet."

His gaze sweeps over everyone: "Gentlemen, we have waited two years for this day. The Deguo have been hiding in ports, we could do nothing about them. Now they come out, this is both opportunity and challenge."

He walks to the map, finger tracing the routes of the two red fleets: "Bei Di is bait, also a fist. I am the net, also the hammer. Let's see if the Deguo dare to crash into it."

The order is dispatched. The communications officer darts in and out, bringing the latest telegram and taking away the new directive.

The clock on the wall ticks, time slipping second by second.

4:00 p. m., new intelligence arrives.

"Deguo submarine activity has increased," Major General Huo Er reports, "In central and northern North Sea, at least eight Deguo submarines have been detected. They may be preparing for the decisive battle."

"Strengthen anti‑submarine patrols," Jieli Ke orders, "All destroyers stay alert. We cannot be surprised by submarines before the decisive battle."

5:00 p. m., weather report.

"In the central North Sea, light fog will develop over the next six hours, visibility moderate‑low. Wind force level three, wave height one and a half meters."

"Unfavorable to both us and the Deguo," Si Tu Di says, "but perhaps more favorable to us. Our artillery training is superior; in poor visibility our advantage grows."

6:00 p. m., Bei Di's latest telegram.

"Maintain contact with Deguo vessels. The opponent seems intent on slowing down, luring me in. Requesting orders."

Jieli Ke ponders for a few seconds, then dictates a reply: "Continue the pursuit, but be ready to turn at any moment. You are about eighty nautical miles from the main fleet; at full speed you can rendezvous in three hours. Watch for submarines."

The telegram is sent. Jieli Ke walks to the window, watching London's dusk outside.

The setting sun paints the sky a golden‑red, clouds like burning flames. Beautiful, but with a certain bleakness.

"General," Si Tu Di steps beside him, "Do you think… at this time tomorrow, the battle will begin?"

"Perhaps even earlier," Jieli Ke says, "perhaps tonight. Naval battles never follow the plan."

He turns, looking at the magnets on the map. Red, blue, moving across the North Sea board, inch by inch drawing nearer, inch by inch toward collision.

"Frederick," he suddenly says, "do you remember what our first lesson was at the Naval Academy when we were young?"

Si Tu Di thinks for a moment: "I think it was… 'The sea is Yingguo's best defence'."

"Correct," Jieli Ke nods, "Nelson said Yingguo's security rests on the sea. For a hundred years that phrase hasn't changed. Now it's our turn to defend that security."

His voice is soft yet firm: "At any cost."

Outside the window, London's lights gradually come on. The fate of this city, the fate of the Empire, now hangs over the North Sea, hangs on the warships cutting through the waves, hangs on the sailors about to face artillery fire.

And in this room, a few people with pencils, rulers, and telegrams decide it all.

War is sometimes so abstract, yet so concrete.

Berlin, Navy Department Building.

Marshal Tirpitz sits at his desk, a fresh North Sea situation map spread before him. Yet he does not look at the map; he looks at a report just delivered—a domestic economic outlook assessment.

The report's contents are terrible.

Because of Yingguo's naval blockade, Deguo's imported supplies have dropped by 60%. Food stocks can only last three months, industrial raw materials are severely scarce, especially rubber, copper and oil.

Even worse, public morale is slipping. Over two years of war, rationing has tightened, casualty lists from the front grow longer. Though victories on the Eastern Front gave a brief boost, it was fleeting. Bread does not increase because of victory, coal does not warm because of victory.