Once an issue reaches Parliament, trouble is guaranteed. Everyone knew that after the sea trade routes were cut, Britain could no longer sustain the war. Yet politics had never been a matter of simple black and white. A ceasefire? No one objected to that. But how to end the war was an entirely different problem. Members of Parliament did not only represent the people. They represented the interest groups standing behind them. Unless absolutely unavoidable, no vested interest group was willing to sacrifice its own benefits. Moreover, MPs themselves were unwilling to shoulder the responsibility of surrender. That would mean the end of their political careers. Even if surrender became inevitable, they would still have to put on a show of righteous defiance, proving that they had opposed it to the very end. Every single one of them was a born actor. Endless arguing was inevitable. While Parliament was in chaos, the streets were even worse. Those who could truly accept reality and move on were a minority. Most people simply could not face the truth. Humans were inherently contradictory. On one hand, they desperately wanted the war to end. On the other, they refused to accept the cruel reality of “surrender.” Under deliberate instigation, ordinary citizens began to pin all the blame on government incompetence. If the government had not been useless, the British Empire would not have lost. If Britain had not lost, there would be no humiliation today… Verbal protests were clearly not enough to vent the public’s anger. They needed marches and demonstrations to make their voices heard. During the day, enemy aircraft could appear at any moment, making protests too dangerous. So they waited until the bombers were gone. Dusk, for example, was relatively safe. The time window was short, but that was not a problem. People simply worked “night shifts.” With flashlights in hand, they could still make their voices heard. “Defend Britain!” “Never surrender!” “Down with the traitorous government!” … The overwhelming chants swept across London, echoing through the city without pause. It was ordinary civilians who suffered the most. After all, people still had to go to work the next day. James shut the window with both hands and complained irritably, “How long are they going to keep this up? Are people not supposed to sleep anymore?” As an ordinary working man, James had no interest whatsoever in the spectacle outside. He did not understand lofty political ideals, but there was one thing he knew very well: if the war did not end soon, his family was going to starve. Ever since the outbreak of the war, prices in London had been climbing relentlessly. The only thing that remained unchanged was wages. What had once been a fairly comfortable household quickly slipped into living beyond its means, forced to rely on past savings just to scrape by. Their standard of living plummeted. Bread, milk, vegetables, beef, all of it disappeared, replaced by black bread, potatoes, and corn. After the British government imposed rationing, things grew even worse. To ensure the family had enough to eat, James had no choice but to buy supplies on the black market. There was no helping it. Bureaucrats were the same everywhere in the world. Given power, someone would always find ways to profit from it. Compared to the struggle of putting food on the table, concepts like hegemony and colonies were impossibly distant to James. Even Ireland, so close at hand, barely registered in his mind. “Stop complaining,” his wife said softly. “You cannot control them anyway. Get ready for bed. You still have work tomorrow.” Her words darkened James’s expression even further as he replied, “I’m sorry, Emma. Being with me has only made your life harder.” Emma, the mistress of the house, shook her head and said, “There’s no need to say that. You have done more than enough, James. Our hardship comes from this damned war. If it were not for the war, our life would still be happy.” As the world’s hegemon, British citizens had enjoyed more than just glory. They had also reaped very real material benefits. Compared with other countries of the same era, Britain was undeniably a developed nation. The living standards of its people ranked among the very best in the world. But all of that vanished the moment the war broke out. Now, being able to fill one’s stomach was already considered good fortune. Even families that had once been well off were struggling, while countless others were outright starving, barely clinging to life on government relief rations. James spoke wearily, both body and mind exhausted: “I do not have to go to work tomorrow. The factory has run out of raw materials. The boss is trying to find a solution, but right now the whole of England is short on materials. I am afraid I will be out of work for quite a long time.” “Out of work.” It was a heavy phrase. Especially in recent months, anyone who lost their job almost never found a new one. With imports and exports cut off, corporate orders had collapsed, and layoffs had become the norm across society. The factory James worked at produced aircraft components and barely counted as a military contractor. Not only had it avoided the worst effects of the war, it had actually boomed because of it. Unfortunately, no amount of orders could overcome one fatal problem: a lack of raw materials. Britain did not yet have a robust system of labor protections. If there were no materials to work with, capitalists would lay people off without hesitation. Strictly speaking, James had not been fired. As a junior engineer, he was still relatively valuable in wartime. Management had merely told him to stay home temporarily and wait for further notice. The problem was that this waiting came without pay. If the factory failed to secure materials and resume production, this “temporary leave” would effectively become a dismissal. Losing even one source of income was devastating for a family that had never been wealthy to begin with. If James could not find new work soon, their livelihood would collapse before long. And James’s family was still among the lucky ones. By this point in the war, more than two million households across the British Empire had gone bankrupt, surviving only on government relief rations. Under such circumstances, it was impossible for anti-war sentiment among the people not to surge. … Argue if they must, riot if they will. As Britain’s grain reserves kept shrinking, the British people simply had no real choice left. The king did not want to bear the responsibility of surrender. The government did not want to bear it. Parliament was equally unwilling to take the blame. After a fierce exchange of words and endless wrangling, the members of Parliament finally came to a solemn conclusion: the future of Britain could only be decided by the entire nation itself. And so, they unanimously agreed to put the question of war or peace to a nationwide referendum. On December 11, 1905, the British government formally proposed a one-week ceasefire to the Continental Alliance, during which a national referendum would be held to decide whether the war should continue. Reading the relayed telegram, Franz could not help but feel amused. When it came to enjoying rights, the people were nowhere to be seen. When it came to shouldering responsibility, suddenly the whole nation had to decide together. He glanced at the military map and asked calmly, “How long can the British Isles’ food reserves still hold out?” Chancellor Chandler replied, “Based on our intelligence analysis, Britain’s grain reserves will last no more than three months at best, and possibly less than one month at worst. The British government’s current reaction also confirms this. If they were not truly cornered, they would never have resorted to a nationwide referendum at this point.” The Continental Alliance had not rushed to launch a landing operation for one simple reason: the British Isles were running out of food. It was not that the British government had not wanted to stockpile more grain. The war had broken out far too suddenly, leaving no time to purchase sufficient supplies. This was not a matter of money. The problem was that there was simply nothing to buy. The Holy Roman Empire was itself the dominant force in the global grain market, controlling more than eighty percent of international agricultural trade. At the same time, it had also been Britain’s largest supplier of agricultural products. When the market’s biggest player refused to sell, the British government could only try to procure food overseas. Whether they could even buy enough was questionable, but transport capacity alone was an enormous obstacle. Submarine attacks were only a minor issue. The real problem was that most of the world’s countries had joined the blockade against Britain, effectively severing its overseas trade routes. Relying solely on the colonies was clearly insufficient, especially after both the Indochinese Peninsula and India, two major grain-producing regions, had turned into battlefields. That was a devastating blow. Since they could starve the enemy into submission, the Continental Alliance saw no need to rush a landing. With only a few months to wait, they could afford patience. Spinning the globe lightly, Franz smiled and said, “Inform the British that, out of humanitarian concern, we are willing to grant them one week to conduct their national referendum. But they will have only this one chance. If we do not get the result we want, then not a single grain of food will enter England for the next ten years.” Such was the tragedy of an island nation. With nothing more than a naval blockade, the once-mighty British Empire had been pushed to the brink of collapse. There was no need to talk about ten years. Another year or two of blockade would likely be enough to turn the British Empire into a thing of the past. … On December 12, 1905, Britain officially opened its nationwide referendum. Under an atmosphere of suffocating tension, countless British citizens left their homes and walked to polling stations to cast what was said to be a sacred vote. Unlike past elections, there were no impassioned speeches, no massive banners, no fiery slogans. There was only a simple ballot box and soldiers maintaining order. The scene was eerily quiet, as if everyone were standing in a funeral hall. Only the sound of footsteps and heartbeats could be heard. No one dared to speak loudly, as though afraid of disturbing the dead.
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