Chapter 715: The Bet on the Map

Four people sat down. Beiteiman and Ludengdaofu sat on the left side of the long table, Xingdengbao and Tirpitz sat on the right. Weilian Ershi walked to the head seat, did not sit, but rested his hands on the table edge, watching them.

"Gentlemen," he began, his voice tinged with uncontainable excitement, "last night I received a very interesting piece of intelligence."

He lifted a document from the table and waved it.

"The Italians have sent someone again. This time it is a letter written personally by Boseli."

The conference room fell silent for a second.

Ludengdaofu was the first to speak: "Your Majesty, what are the Italians up to this time?"

Weilian Ershi smiled—a kind of smile rarely seen in the three‑year war.

"They want to come back. To rejoin the Allies."

A stir broke out in the conference room.

Beiteiman snapped his head up, a flash of light in his eyes: "Your Majesty, is this true?"

Weilian Ershi nodded, handed the letter to Beiteiman. Beiteiman took it, skimmed it quickly, then passed it to Xingdengbao. Xingdengbao read it slowly, examining each line carefully. After finishing, he looked up at Weilian Ershi, his face still showing no expression.

Ludengdaofu could wait no longer: "Your Majesty, what does the letter say?"

Weilian Ershi walked to the huge map of Europe on the wall, picked up a slender bamboo rod, and pointed it at the Italian Peninsula.

"Boseli says Italy is willing to rejoin the Allies, on the condition that we guarantee they receive, after the war, the territories Faguo ceded—Savoy, Nice and Corsica."

The rod moved toward southeastern Faguo.

"Gentlemen, do you know what this means?"

He turned, looked at the four of them, his eyes flashing.

"If Italy flips, the pressure on our Austro‑Hungarian front will vanish completely. At least twenty divisions—two hundred thousand elite troops—can be drawn from the Italian border and sent to the Faguo front."

The rod hammered onto Verdun's location.

"Two hundred thousand men, plus our existing forces on the Western Front, are enough to launch a decisive offensive. Capture Verdun, cut off the Faguo forces' supply line, and Paris will be in grave danger."

He moved the rod again toward the Franco‑Italian border.

"Moreover, Italy's flip would tie down the Yingguo‑Faguo coalition. They would have to pull troops from the Deguo front to guard the Franco‑Italian border. As one side weakens, the other strengthens; we would gain at least two months of initiative on the Western Front."

He set the rod down, walked back to his seat, hands braced on the table edge.

"Gentlemen, three years. Three years, and for the first time we see the dawn of a reversal."

The conference room was quiet for three seconds.

Then Xingdengbao spoke.

"Your Majesty, I do not trust the Italians."

Xingdengbao's voice was hoarse, yet each word rang clear as a nail driven into wood. He sat there, hands on the table, his clouded eyes fixed on Weilian Ershi.

Weilian Ershi was momentarily stunned: "Marshal, you…"

"Your Majesty," Xingdengbao interrupted, "allow me to finish."

He stood, walked to the map. The seventy‑year‑old elder still moved steadily, each step firm. He lifted the bamboo rod and pointed it at the Italian Peninsula.

"Two days ago, the Italians were at Caporetto, attacking our ally the Austro‑Hungarian Empire with thirty‑six divisions. Two days ago, our soldiers were still fighting the Italian troops hand‑to‑hand, with at least ten thousand of our men killed by them."

The rod moved northward.

"Two years ago, Italy formally declared war on Deguo, jumping from our side to the Yingguo‑Faguo side. They amassed five hundred thousand troops on our border, tying down at least fifteen divisions of ours."

The rod moved further back in time.

"Two years ago they were still our allies. When the war first broke out, they claimed the alliance treaty applied only to defensive wars, refusing to join us in attacking Faguo. Then they secretly negotiated with the Yingguo‑Faguo, took their benefits, and turned around to stab us in the back."

He set the rod down and turned to look at Weilian Ershi.

"Your Majesty, betrayal is the Italians' greatest skill. They betrayed us two years ago, again a year ago. Now they want to come back—who can guarantee they won't turn against us a third time?"

The conference room fell into dead silence.

Weilian Ershi's radiance dimmed a few points. He stood there, hands braced on the table edge, saying nothing.

Ludengdaofu stood and walked to Xingdengbao's side.

"Your Majesty, I agree with the Marshal's view. The Italians are untrustworthy," he said, pointing at Caporetto on the map. "Thirty‑six divisions, two days, caught our ally off guard. Had we not urgently shifted troops from the Eastern Front to reinforce, the Austro‑Hungarian army might have already collapsed. Now they are stalled, yet want to return—this is clearly betting on both sides. If they win, they become our allies; if they lose, they can complain to the Yingguo‑Faguo, claiming we forced them."

Beiteiman hesitated, then said, "But Your Majesty, if Italy truly returns, it would indeed be a huge improvement to our strategic situation…"

"Improvement?" Xingdengbao looked at him. "Prime Minister, do you trust the word of a traitor? When we shift twenty divisions from the Austro‑Hungarian front to Faguo, when we launch an offensive on the Western Front, when our main forces are deep in the Faguo battlefield, and the Italians turn against us again—what can we use to save ourselves then?"

Beiteiman opened his mouth but could not speak.

The conference room sank into a long silence.

The sunlight outside remained bright, but on the faces inside the conference room it was especially glaring. Weilian Ershi stood there, his fingers lightly tapping the table—once, twice, three times.

Finally, Tirpitz spoke.

"Your Majesty, may I say a few words?"

Weilian Ershi looked up at him. Tirpitz was one of his most respected senior ministers, the founder of the German Navy, his talisman in countless difficult moments.

"Marshal, please speak."

Tirpitz stood, walked to the map. He pulled a thick dossier from his pocket and placed it on the table.

"Your Majesty, this is the Lanfang military intelligence I compiled while in Dubai. You may have a look."

Ludengdaofu took the document, flipped through a few pages quickly, then looked up, a flash of surprise in his eyes.

"Fifty corps? Over a million men?"

Tirpitz nodded: "The Sakura Nation has deployed fifty corps, over a million men, in Malaya and Myanmar. Including previous losses, their actual total strength may exceed 1.2 million."

He pointed at the Malay Peninsula and Myanmar on the map.

"Singapore has already been captured, Kuala Lumpur as well, and Yangon is in fierce battle. In at most two months, the Sakura Nation can conclude its two‑front war. Then they can, together with Lanfang, form an east‑west pincer against the enemy in the Yilang direction—"

The rod struck heavily on India.

"India. The jewel on the Yingguo crown. Do you think the Yingguo can hold it?"