AWB Chapter 446 William is having a blast!
Chapter 446 William is having a blast!
Enver Pasha's face was ashen, his fingers gripping the hilt of his saber tightly. Halim Pasha stared at the draft, his eyes racing with calculations.
Ten divisions! If we could truly arm ten modern divisions, plus tanks… perhaps we could stabilize the front lines, and even launch a counter-offensive. A five million pound loan… could alleviate the domestic famine. But the price would be a piece of land that the empire had already lost control of, soon to be occupied by Britain.
From a purely profit-driven perspective, this is not a loss.
But from the perspectives of national sentiment, imperial dignity, and historical responsibility… this is humiliation. It's like drinking poison to quench thirst. It's an admission that the empire has weakened to the point where it needs to exchange territory for survival.
"What if..." Halimpasha's voice was hoarse, "...what if we disagree?"
Chen Feng did not answer directly, but looked at Wilhelm II: "Your Majesty, if the Ottoman front collapses, how many troops can the Russians transfer to the Eastern Front? And how many can the British transfer to the Western Front?"
Wilhelm II's expression changed. Falkingham immediately replied, "At least thirty divisions. The Russians can spare fifteen divisions from the Caucasus, and the British can spare fifteen divisions from Mesopotamia and Palestine. If these troops were deployed to the Eastern or Western Front..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning was clear: with the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, the pressure on Germany had increased dramatically.
The Kaiser finally spoke, his voice deep and authoritative: "Pasha, I know this decision is difficult. But consider this—is it to preserve some nominally remote provinces, or to preserve the core of the Empire? Is it to uphold a hopeless sense of dignity, or to accept reality and exchange it for a possibility of survival and revival?"
He stood up, walked to the Ottoman flag, and gently stroked the crescent pattern with his finger: "My grandfather, Emperor Wilhelm I, once said: Politics is the art of possibility. Now, possibility is before you. Lanfang has provided assistance, protection, and even... a way to decently preserve the nominal sovereignty of these regions."
Enver Pasha also stood up, meeting the Kaiser's gaze: "Your Majesty, you stand here, persuading us to cede territory. But if one day someone demands that Prussia cede the Rhineland, cede Alsace, would you agree?"
A pointed question. Wilhelm II's face darkened.
But it wasn't the Kaiser who answered, but Chen Feng: "Pasha, this question is inappropriate. Germany doesn't face the risk of the Rhineland being occupied by British troops, while the Ottomans have the reality of Mesopotamia being occupied. We're not discussing territorial concessions, but rather choosing between loss and partial retention."
He paused, his tone becoming more serious: "Moreover, I must remind you all—time is running out. The British have amassed eight divisions in the Sinai Peninsula, ready to attack Gaza at any moment. The British Indian Army in Mesopotamia is only 100 kilometers from Basra. Meanwhile, the Ottoman Ninth Army has only five understrength divisions in Palestine, and the Mesopotamian Army is besieged in Kut and about to run out of supplies."
Every word was like a heavy hammer blow to the heart of the Ottoman representative.
Halim Pasha closed his eyes. Sweat streamed down his forehead, soaking the brim of his hat. After a long while, he opened his eyes and looked at Chen Feng: "Your Excellency, if... if we agree, how can Lanfang guarantee that the British won't object? How can it guarantee that these areas won't be directly occupied by Britain?"
This is exactly the problem that Chen Feng was waiting for.
"First, after the agreement is signed, Lanfang will immediately dispatch a 'security force' into the concession area to establish a de facto presence. This force will fly the Lanfang flag to clearly indicate that this is a cooperation area between the two countries."
"Secondly, the Lanfang Association formally notified the United Kingdom that these areas were under the responsibility of Lanfang for development and security, and that any military action would be considered an infringement on Lanfang's interests."
"Third," Chen Feng's gaze deepened, "I will personally communicate with the King of England to explain that this is for 'regional stability,' to prevent the complete collapse of the Middle East from triggering greater turmoil. And what Britain... least needs right now is to clash with another major power on a secondary battlefield."
He concluded, "Of course, all of this is predicated on the Ottomans demonstrating the resolve and capability to continue fighting. If the empire collapses first, then all agreements will become worthless."
Halim Pasha took a deep breath and looked at Enver. The two Ottoman supreme leaders exchanged glances, communicating silently. Enver's eyes held humiliation and resentment, while Halim's eyes reflected helplessness and the harsh reality.
Finally, Enver Pasha slumped down, covering his face with his hands. Halim Pasha turned to Chen Feng, his voice aged and weary:
"We need to... consult His Majesty the Sultan."
Chen Feng nodded: "I understand. But please do it as soon as possible. Because—"
He looked out the window, where the setting sun was beginning to sink, turning the Bosphorus Strait blood-red.
"The setting sun will not wait for those who hesitate."
The meeting was adjourned temporarily. The German and Lanfang representatives remained in the hall, while the Ottoman representative hurriedly left to report to the ailing Sultan.
Wilhelm II walked up to Chen Feng and said in a low voice, "You're a good negotiator, Your Excellency. You've given us carrots, but you've also shown us the whip."
Chen Feng bowed slightly: "Your Majesty flatters me. I was merely stating the facts. And facts are often the most convincing. Besides, isn't this exactly what Your Majesty hopes to see?"
"Heh..." William had long wanted to drag Lanfang into this. If the British attacked Lanfang's army in the Sinai Peninsula, then... But William concealed his true feelings at this moment. Returning to the most pressing question, "When can we begin training our soldiers?"
"The technical data can be shipped within a week of the agreement being signed. The training team can arrive in Germany within two weeks," Chen Feng replied. "But Your Majesty, please be prepared—new weapons require new tactics, which takes time to learn and adapt. It's impossible to change the course of the war next month."
"I understand." Wilhelm II looked westward, towards Europe, "but at least... there is hope. The German army hasn't seen real hope since Verdun."
Falkenham walked over and handed Chen Feng a document: "This is our preliminary list of technology exchanges. Krupp's carburized armor steel technology, BASF's synthetic ammonia process, Zeiss's optical sight patent... Take a look and see if it's worth it."
Chen Feng took the papers and quickly scanned them. A slight tremor ran through him—these were treasures of German industry, things that would never have left the country in peacetime. War had truly changed everything.
"Very valuable," he honestly admitted. "Lanfang is willing to exchange these for a complete data package on tank technology."
"Then it's settled." Wilhelm II extended his hand. "Germany and Lanfang, each get what they need."
Hands clasped. An empire desperately needing to break the deadlock, and a late-developing nation eager to acquire technology, reached a deal in this Ottoman palace that would change the course of the war.
Outside the window, the setting sun sank completely into the strait, and night fell on Istanbul.
In this city that has witnessed the rise and fall of the Roman, Byzantine, and Ottoman empires, another deal that will shape the world order is about to be finalized.
This time, however, there were people from the East among the participants.