Chapter 705: We Are Being Hit Unilaterally, Where Does Mutual Defeat Come From

Foreign Minister Edward Gray finally spoke. He had remained silent until now, holding the telegram that the Meilika ambassador had just delivered.

"Prime Minister, President Wilson has sent another telegram."

Asquith lifted his head.

"What does he say?"

Gray read the telegram, word for word:

"Meilika's government is deeply concerned about the Yazhou situation. Our country will dispatch an expeditionary force to France, the first batch of 14,000 troops has already arrived at Saint‑Nazaire Port. Meilika has no intention of opposing Lanfang and hopes both sides can resolve the dispute through peaceful negotiations."

The conference room fell into dead silence.

Then someone laughed. The laugh was cold and bitter, as if it came from hell.

It was Colonial Affairs Minister Walter Long.

"'No intention of opposing Lanfang?' he repeated. '14,000 men go to France, not a single soldier comes to Yazhou. Is this our ally?'"

Gray set the telegram down and sighed.

"Wilson is waiting. He waits for us and Lanfang to be mutually devastated, so he can step in to clean up the mess."

"Mutually devastated?" Kichinna sneered, "We are being beaten unilaterally now; where does mutual devastation come from?"

The debate continued for two hours.

Some advocated pulling more troops from Europe to reinforce Yazhou, others argued to abandon Yazhou and concentrate on preserving Africa, some suggested kneeling and begging Meilika for mercy, and others proposed secret negotiations with Lanfang. Everyone had their own idea, each claimed theirs was best, but no one could convince anyone else.

Asquith listened to the arguments, his head throbbed more and more.

He recalled three years ago, when the war first broke out. Back then everyone said it would end before Christmas. Everyone said the British Empire was invincible. Everyone said the Deguo would not last a year.

Three years have passed.

The Deguo are still fighting. Lanfang people have joined. And the British Empire is losing its colonies piece by piece.

The door was pushed open again.

This time it was not an aide but a middle‑aged man in a navy uniform. His face was pallid, he held a telegram, his hand trembling slightly.

"Prime Minister," his voice shook, "just received news. Caporetto…"

Asquith sprang to his feet.

"What happened at Caporetto?"

The naval officer swallowed.

"The Italians… launched an offensive. Thirty‑six divisions carried out a massive attack against the Deguo‑Austria alliance."

The conference room erupted in gasps.

"Offensive?" Kichinna's eyes lit up, "The Italians finally acted? Good! Excellent! As long as the Italians hold back the Deguo‑Austria forces, we can… in France…"

"But—" the naval officer cut him off, his voice even more shaky, "but the Italians lost. Lost. Thirty‑six divisions were crushed in two days. The Deguo‑Austria forces are advancing into Italy. Prisoners… prisoners exceed two hundred thousand."

The conference room fell into dead silence.

Two hundred thousand prisoners.

Two days.

Thirty‑six divisions were crushed in two days.

Asquith slowly sat down, hands covering his face.

"God," he murmured, "what have we done to deserve such punishment?"

At two p. m., the meeting was still ongoing.

The debate had shifted from "what to do" to "who is responsible." The navy blamed the army for failing to hold the colonies, the army blamed the navy for not daring to go to sea, the Colonial Affairs Department blamed the Foreign Ministry for not securing Meilika's support in time, and the Foreign Ministry blamed the Colonial Affairs Department for over‑exploiting the colonies, causing the locals to defect.

The noise became unmanageable.

The door was thrown open violently.

Everyone turned their heads at once, then all stood up together.

George V strode into the conference room.

He was not in civilian clothes but wore a navy admiral's uniform, his chest covered with medals. His face lacked its usual gentleness, showing an indescribable anger and fatigue. He walked to the head of the long table and stopped in front of the chair beside the main seat— a chair prepared especially for him, rarely used.

Everyone remained standing; no one dared to sit.

George V scanned the room, his gaze sweeping over each face. That look sent a chill through those present—it was the hunter's gaze at prey, the king's gaze assessing his ministers.

"Everyone sit," he finally said, his voice low, but each word struck like a nail into wood.

The others sat, but no one dared to speak first.

George V picked up the stack of telegrams on the table, reading them one by one. Singapore—set aside. Burma—set aside. Yilang—set aside. Caporetto—set aside. The Jellico fleet report—set aside. Meilika's telegram—set aside.

He stared for a long time; the room was so quiet one could hear the wall clock's tick‑tock.

Finally, he set down the last telegram and lifted his head.

"Who can tell me," his voice was calm, but that calm was more terrifying than a roar, "what have we lost these past days?"

No one answered.

He stood, walked to the massive world map on the wall, and pointed to Singapore's location.

"Singapore. The Gibraltar of the East. We have managed it for a hundred years. Four days, gone."

He moved his finger to Burma.

"Burma. Rice, oil, rubber. We fed half of India with it. A few days, gone."

He moved his finger to Yilang.

"Yilang. Oil. Our fleet can only move because of it. Two days, gone."

He turned, looking at the silent ministers.

"Four days. Two hundred years of the British Empire's foundation, in four days we lost a third."

He walked back to his seat but did not sit, instead standing behind the chair, hands braced against its back.

"Who among you can tell me what will be thrown next? India? Egypt? Or Canada?"

Ji Qin Na finally spoke, his voice hoarse.

"Your Majesty, we will do everything in our power to keep Egypt. As long as the Suez Canal remains, our contact with India will not be severed."

"Do everything in your power?" George V looked at him. "Mr. Army Minister, your doing everything in your power means letting thirty thousand soldiers surrender in Malaya? letting the garrison in Burma flee in batches? letting Yilang's oil fields be handed over intact to Lanfang people?"

Ji Qin Na lowered his head, unable to speak.

George V turned to Navy Minister Jie Li Ke.

"Mr. Jie Li Ke, your cousin, Admiral Jie Li Ke, what is he doing now?"

Jie Li Ke bowed his head, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

"In... in Mumbai."

"In Mumbai, what for?"

"In... in recuperation."

"Recuperation," George V repeated, then suddenly laughed. That laugh chilled the spines of those present. "He sent twelve capital ships against two training ships, fought three hours without winning, and even let them take photos. Now four capital ships block the entrance, and he is recuperating in the harbor."

He walked back to the map, pointing at Mumbai's location.

"Mr. Jie Li Ke, do you know what the situation in Mumbai is now?"