With the formation of the two major camps, the international situation became increasingly clear. On one side stood the anti-British alliance centered on the Holy Roman Empire, known as the Continental Alliance. On the other side was the anti–Holy Roman Empire bloc organized by Britain, the Pan-Oceanic Front. The attack on the Suez Canal tore away the final layer of pretense, placing the contradictions between the two camps squarely on the table. As armed clashes across various regions continued to escalate, apart from the absence of a formal declaration of war, the Holy Roman Empire and Britain had already entered a state of de facto war. Most of the core members of the Continental Alliance were concentrated in Europe. With the existing organizational framework of the European Alliance already in place, the only change was a shift in its functional role. By contrast, the British-led Pan-Oceanic Front faced far greater difficulties. When various countries initially joined the Pan-Oceanic Front, the situation was very different from what it had become. The British had merely told them that the goal was to jointly contain the Holy Roman Empire. They had not said that the enemy would be the entire European continent. As the scope of the adversary expanded, disagreements emerged within the Pan-Oceanic Front. Although confidence in the Royal Navy remained high, many participants felt deeply uncertain about the war itself. The saying “a distant relative is not as good as a close neighbor” does not apply to relations between states. For historical reasons, most countries have conflicts of interest with their neighbors, and in many cases long-standing hostility. An enemy’s enemy is not necessarily a friend, but for most of the time, it can become an ally. For example, once Chile joined the Pan-Oceanic Front, its traditional rivals Peru and Bolivia naturally leaned toward the Continental Alliance. Those countries that had not yet openly chosen sides were restrained mainly by the Royal Navy’s dominant position, which discouraged rash moves. In reality, some of them may already have been making quiet arrangements behind the scenes. Under such circumstances, participants not only had to take part in the war against the Holy Roman Empire, but also had to remain vigilant against the possibility of betrayal by neighboring states. The British government was not unaware of this problem and did consider ways to resolve it. However, once core interests were involved, there was simply no room for compromise. Taking Chile, Bolivia, and Peru as an example, persuading Bolivia and Peru to abandon their animosity would be very easy, provided that Chile was willing to relinquish the gains it had secured in the War of the Pacific. Once meat has been swallowed, expecting it to be spat back out is unrealistic. Naturally, the Chileans would never agree to such a demand, and negotiations therefore collapsed. No matter how great Britain’s prestige might be, it could never outweigh concrete interests. Even if the British government were willing to offer up colonies of the Holy Roman Empire for redistribution, it would still have been of no use. Promises alone cannot fill an empty stomach. Although the Holy Roman Empire possessed vast colonial territories, only a limited portion of them could realistically be seized. When too many participants gathered around the spoils, no one could eat their fill. The countries that joined the Pan-Oceanic Front did so in order to gain tangible benefits, not to go hungry. In order to coordinate relations among its allies and integrate the strength of the alliance, the British government worked itself to exhaustion, yet the final results were deeply disappointing. Every country had its own calculations. When the interests of the alliance came into conflict with national interests, the latter would always take precedence. The Holy Roman Empire could not force the continental powers to commit their full strength, and Britain likewise could not compel the members of the Pan-Oceanic Front to expend themselves without reservation. Before the alliance issues had even been resolved, criticism at home had already grown incessant. Armchair critics flooded the public sphere, attacking the government’s foreign policy as though the current predicament were entirely the fault of the administration in power. Tossing aside the newspaper that only stirred irritation, Campbell rubbed his temples and asked, “Has the navy still not found an opportunity?” If no breakthrough could be achieved on the political front, then one could only seek one through military means. War had always been one of the most effective tools for diverting internal contradictions. The First Sea Lord, Swinton, waved his hand and replied, “Whether it is the enemy’s Southeast Asian Fleet or their American Fleet, they are usually dispersed among various ports. Without a major event, they simply will not assemble. Unless we divide our forces and strike in multiple directions, it will be very difficult to inflict a decisive blow on the enemy’s main strength in a single action. But once we divide our forces, the Royal Navy’s advantage will no longer be assured. Even when the enemy does occasionally concentrate, it is usually in coastal waters. Given that they can withdraw into port at any moment and enjoy air support, we have refrained from acting rashly.” The strength of the Royal Navy lay in its overall coordination. In a one on one duel between individual warships, its advantage was in fact not that great. In this respect, it was the complete opposite of the army. British infantry performed well in small scale engagements, but once the battlefield expanded, their effectiveness declined rapidly. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, Asquith, said, “Since a surprise attack is not feasible, we might as well look for an opportunity to engage the enemy in a decisive battle. We still have allied forces to cooperate with us. In a short period of time, we could completely destroy the enemy’s two ocean-going fleets and ensure the security of our maritime trade routes. The pace of war is accelerating, and the time left to us is already very limited. That saint in the Vienna Palace is now putting on his final performance. If nothing unexpected happens, it will not be long before their investigation results are released, followed by a righteous declaration of war against us.” It was clear that Asquith held little affection for Franz. On reflection, this was hardly surprising. Everyone else lacked polish, yet he alone maintained a pristine image. It would have been strange if this did not invite resentment. The Foreign Secretary, Adam, said coldly, “The issue of joint operations is already being coordinated by the Foreign Office, but this will still require some time. At present, we are facing two major problems. The first is the question of command authority, and the second is the distribution of postwar interests. Our allies have very large appetites. What they are demanding is completely disproportionate to their actual strength, and they need to be made to face reality.” Ever since they realized that the enemy had shifted from the Holy Roman Empire to the entire European continent, Britain’s allies had become noticeably less enthusiastic. However, it was far easier to board the ship than to disembark from it, and reality left them no room to retreat. At this point, even if some countries wished to defect, the Holy Roman government would first have to consider the feelings of its own allies. Accepting them was simply not an option. Neutrality was even more far-fetched. Having already chosen sides, attempting to withdraw would amount to offending both camps at once, and would almost certainly invite postwar reckoning. If Britain had not still needed these countries to contribute their strength, the government would long since have stopped showing any courtesy toward such excessively demanding allies. … While the British were still busy assembling their coalition, the investigation team’s report finally appeared on Franz’s desk after a full week of work. There were no surprises. In this report of more than thirty pages, every piece of evidence presented pointed squarely at the British. After casually flipping through a few pages, Franz lost any interest in continuing. There were simply too many words. Reading it felt like a waste of time. After sweeping his gaze across those present, Franz shook his head and said, “There is far too much content. It needs to be streamlined. And the evidence is far too detailed. It reads as if the authors personally witnessed the events, which means it cannot withstand close scrutiny. Cut it down. Remove some of the details, and add more ambiguous elements. After the war, we can always supplement it with British confessions. Then it will be perfect. Once it has been handled properly, release it to the public. Demand that the British government hand over the culprits, compensate for the losses, and at the same time issue them with a final ultimatum. On second thought, let us wait a little longer. Next week is Christmas. For the sake of God, let the British enjoy their last Christmas properly.” Investigating evidence required time. In just one week, with more than half of that time spent traveling, it was questionable how deep the inquiry could really have gone. Setting that aside, the mere fact that such a thick report could be produced in so short a time was already alarming. What made it even more striking was that the report had been drafted by professionals. The members of the investigation team were criminal investigation specialists from various fields, people who were obsessed with making evidence appear flawless. In theory, the report contained complete chains of testimony and material evidence. There were even photographs of alleged clandestine meetings. Everything was airtight, leaving the British no room to deny it. Yet in Franz’s eyes, the more he looked at it, the more uncomfortable it felt. People of this era might not fully sense it, but anyone who had lived through the age of the internet knew one thing clearly: the more detailed and vivid a forgery appeared, the easier it was to dismantle. By contrast, vague and ambiguous claims were the hardest to overturn. In any case, history would be written by the victors, and such ambiguity could always be “proven” after the war. Time was the greatest force shaping a person. After living in this world for several decades, Franz had fully integrated into the spirit of the age, including one indispensable rule: showing respect to God. There was no helping it. God’s influence was simply too great. Generally speaking, refusing to show respect to God at a sensitive moment like Christmas was tantamount to setting oneself against the entire population. One only had to look at the reactions of those present to understand this. Not a single person raised an objection. Clearly, everyone was a “devout” believer in God. Chancellor Chandler said, “Very well, Your Majesty. We will proceed with handling the investigation report accordingly. As for the declaration of war, since it is to be postponed until after the holiday, should we ask the Pope to select an auspicious date?” This was not sarcasm. Europeans, when faced with major events, also believed in choosing the right day. Some of the more superstitious even sought out witches for divination. The anti-British alliance included the Papal States. With the most professional group of religious specialists at hand, it would have been wasteful not to make use of them. At first glance, this looked like feudal superstition, but in reality it was not. Before and after the outbreak of war, people were most prone to confusion and anxiety and needed spiritual reassurance. With the Pope as such a powerful figure, failing to make use of him would have been almost criminal. The fact that the Holy Roman government did not label the British as heretics already showed a certain level of restraint. Of course, even without restraint, such a move would not have been feasible. The struggle between royal authority and religious authority had always existed, and only in the past two centuries had secular power clearly prevailed over the Church. Before that, European monarchs had lived under considerable constraints. Even though he styled himself as the most devout of God’s followers, when core interests were at stake, Franz had no intention of giving the Papacy any real leverage. “Then inform the Holy See,” he said. “Set the date for the declaration of war as December 27, and have the Pope make the necessary preparations.”
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