industrial lord

Chapter 826 Strategic Analysis
The silence seemed to gain weight, pressing heavily on the large stone carpet woven with gold thread.

Inside the fireplace, the carefully selected firewood burned with extreme restraint, and the crackling sound of the flames licking the wood was mostly swallowed up by the solemn silence—as if even the flames knew how to read the room and dared not make a sound while the emperor was deep in thought.

Fatih sat upright in the high-backed chair, his posture as still as a sculpture.

The telegram contained a lot of information, but only two key points were emphasized:

"The actual grain production of the Duchy of Weisen is far less than its published figures."

"We urge Your Majesty to take action from the south to disrupt the Duchy of Wesen's grain procurement channels in the Inland Sea region."

Fatih finished reading the last line and stared intently at the fire in the hearth.

The flames danced in his pupils, reflecting a cold, almost metallic light.

After a long while, a smile appeared on his lips, as cold as the unmelting ice on a snow-capped mountaintop.

He handed the telegram to the woman standing quietly to the side, his movements casual and composed, as if he were handing her not a secret report that could potentially shake up the Western world, but rather an insignificant banquet invitation.

What do you think, Therma?

Therma took the telegram.

The firelight outlined her profile, no longer the same as she had been in the slave market of Wanjing City. The desert wind and the sand of the battlefield had dyed her skin a deep amber color like honey, and her thick hair was braided into dozens of thin braids, then tied into a thick braid with silver rings that hung down to her waist.

Therma's gaze was sharp as lightning, quickly scanning the lines of text.

“Young Louis…” her voice was low and clear, “…is ultimately too young.”

She raised her eyes, looked directly at the emperor, and said, "He only saw the first ripple on the surface of the water."

“Oh?” Fatih leaned back in his high-backed chair, his hands clasped together and placed lightly on his abdomen. “Tell me your thoughts.”

Therma gently placed the telegram on the velvet-covered table and began to organize her thoughts.

She never spoke hastily; every word was carefully chosen. This was a lesson she had learned through blood and fire: in the military, wrong words were more deadly than wrong swords.

“I have studied Wessen,” she said. “Over the past few years, I have gathered all the intelligence I could get about him and about the Duchy of Wessen.”

“Samples of goods brought back by merchants, accounts of what travelers have seen and heard, and even snippets of information sent back by my spies within the Rhine Alliance.”

"I have come to the conclusion that everything Frederick von Weisen did had a clear purpose."

"He will not speak without purpose, will not act on impulse, and will not leave obvious flaws for others to exploit."

Fatih narrowed his eyes slightly, recalling the first time he met Frederick, who was hiding his identity, in the arena of Wanjing City.

He certainly remembered that it was his first year on the throne, when he was ambitious and preparing to wage war against the Kingdom of Kush to prove his abilities to the imperial elders and those scheming warlords.

A young nobleman from the West, traveling around, was considered nothing more than an insignificant speck of dust at the time.

If they could have foreseen what would happen next, they certainly wouldn't have let Weisen leave alive.

But history has no ifs. Wessen left, telling Therma how to maximize the power of gunpowder before he left. On his way, he helped a woman who sold roast meat to get to Wessenburg.

“Then he went to the Kingdom of Kush,” Therma continued, her voice growing colder, “just as His Majesty launched the war.”

The air in the study seemed to have gotten a few degrees colder.

That war was a thorn in Fatih's side.

The Ghazi Empire's conquest of the Kushi Kingdom should have been a swift and decisive military campaign, but it failed at the last moment.

First, Weisen single-handedly rescued his nephew, and then Weisen left behind a secret plan to defeat the northern and southern armies of the Ghazi. These stories were adapted into songs, dramas, and poems, and even circulated within the Ghazi Empire.

“After leaving the Kingdom of Kush, Wesen did not return home immediately.” Therma’s voice pulled Fatih back from his reverie. “He went deep into the forest and stayed there for several months.”

"At the time, nobody knew why; they thought we were just sightseeing."

"But what do we see now?"

She walked to the wall and pulled back the huge map curtain that was hanging there.

It was a map encompassing the western continent, inland seas, southern continent, and parts of the eastern lands. It had a white cotton background and was marked with mountains, rivers, national borders, and trade routes in colored ink.

Some of the ink marks on the map have faded, while others have been recently added—the result of the tireless efforts of the Imperial intelligence system.

The tip of Sema's finger is on the southern shore of the Inner Sea.

“The northern coast of the forest was a wild wasteland a few years ago, with only scattered cities. And now?” Her finger traced the long coastline. “Eleven large farms, forty-five trading posts, and fourteen port towns that are beginning to take shape.”

"Steam trains departing from the Duchy of Wessen travel south, loading cargo at ports in the Kingdom of Sardinia or the Osmarca Empire, exchanging industrial goods for timber, ore, and spices. These supplies are then transported back to Wessenburg and transformed into more machines, weapons, and ships."

Her fingertips moved further south on the map.

Serma turned around, her gaze intense, and said solemnly, "So Your Majesty, when Prince Louis said that the Duchy of Wessen was not producing enough grain, I could only laugh."

"Yes, the Duchy of Wesen has limited arable land, and its wheat production simply cannot support its ever-growing population and army."

"But Wesson never put all his eggs in one basket."

"The number of farms on the southern coast of the Inner Sea could double next year, if he wanted to."

"Wesson is short of food?"

"No, what he lacks is time and tools—the time and tools to transport grain from distant granaries back to his homeland."

Fatih listened quietly, his face showing no change in expression.

But Therma noticed that the emperor's crossed hands tightened slightly, the only sign of his inner turmoil.

“So you think,” Fatih began slowly, each word carefully chosen, “that the food problem poses no threat to Wessen at all?”

“No threat at all.” Therma said firmly, “With the South Coast of the Inner Sea and the Southern Continent as our trump cards, no one can hold him by the throat when it comes to food.”

"unless……"

“Unless we can cut off maritime transport,” Fatih continued.

Then, a wry smile appeared on the emperor's face.

A genuine bitter smile, tinged with helplessness, self-deprecation, and a hint of anger.

Who would have thought?
The Ghazi Empire, a maritime power with thousands of kilometers of coastline on the eastern shore of the inland sea and a centuries-old maritime tradition, saw its naval power collapse overnight.

Fatih still remembers the report from that night.

Even today, in that place, flying sharks can still stop babies from crying at night.

That battle wiped out the navy of the Ghazi Empire.

“We don’t have the ability to blockade the sea routes.” Fatih’s voice was calm, but Therma could hear the resentment in it. “At least not now.”

"The blueprints for the new warships are still on the drawing board, the steel mill's production line has just been built, and the sailors are still training... We need time, at least two years."

Therma nodded. She understood the Empire's current predicament better than anyone else. In recent years, with internal purges, the formation of a new army, and a war with the Great Stone Empire, the Empire had no spare capacity to build up its navy.

Under such circumstances, how could they possibly provoke the formidable navy of the Duchy of Wessen just for a request from the Crown Prince of Gaul?

“But we cannot completely ignore the requests of our allies,” Fatih added. “Although Louis the Younger is young, he is the crown prince of the Gallic Kingdom.”

"His father, Louis the Elder, is in increasingly poor health, and perhaps in another year or two, he will be sitting on the throne in the palace."

"We need the Gallic ally, at least to restrain the Rhine Alliance in the western continent."

Therma pondered for a moment.

A sharp light flashed in his eyes, like the cold glint of a blade being drawn from its sheath.

“Then let’s find an excuse,” she said. “Tell Prince Louis that we are planning an operation against the Duchy of Wessen’s sea lanes, but we need time to prepare.”

"At the same time, we can inadvertently leak some intelligence to him, making him believe that the Duchy of Wessen is preparing to take action against the Kingdom of Gaul."

Fatih looked up at her and asked, "Oh? You think Wesson will make a move?"

“It’s not a belief, it’s an intuition.” Therma’s tone was very certain. “One of the reasons I’ve survived on the battlefield is that I trust my intuition.”

"The Rhine Alliance was defeated at Redwaterwheel Village. That battle interrupted the Rhine Alliance's eastward expansion and sowed the seeds of fear."

"Two years is enough time for someone like Weisen to accumulate strength and look for opportunities."

"And what about the Gallic Kingdom?"

"Old Louis first made unfounded suspicions about young Louis, and now he's paralyzed in bed."

"Young Louis is impatient and easily led by the nose."

"More importantly, the army is not in the country."

Fatih closed his eyes, a look of intense concentration on his face.

At this moment, the information in his mind was rapidly being integrated: the military deployment of the Kingdom of Gaul, the recent movements of the Rhine Alliance, the troop movements of the Duchy of Wessen, the diplomatic relations of Western countries... Countless fragments of information collided, combined, and reconstructed in his mind, piecing together a possible picture.

Time passed second by second.

One piece of firewood in the fireplace had burned out, and the servant quietly came in to add more, then bowed and withdrew.

The entire process was completely silent, as if only shadows were moving.

Therma waited patiently.

She had seen the emperor in this state before and knew that interrupting him at this moment would be the most foolish thing to do.

Fatih's thinking was not mere daydreaming, but rather a mental simulation of a game of chess without a board, where every move could determine the life or death of millions.

A full half hour later, Fatih opened his eyes.

“The hardest part of war is not how to start it,” he said slowly, his voice like a murmur or the recitation of some ancient proverb, “but how to end it.”

"The Rhine Confederation is a loose federation. The Duchy of Mainz, the Duchy of Bain, the Duchy of Wessen... each of these member states has its own agenda."

"It is almost impossible to unite them in support of a protracted war."

"So if Wesson is going to make a move, it will inevitably be a short war—quick in and quick out, ending the battle before other countries can react."

Therma nodded.

Following the emperor's deductions, she said, "The Gallic Kingdom is a large country. The only way to win in a short time is to strike its vitals precisely, create a huge psychological shock, and force them to make concessions at the negotiating table."

"So where is this 'critical point'?"

Fatih stood up, walked to the map, traced the outline of the western continent with his finger, and finally stopped at a mountainous region.

"The Kingdom of Tarragona," the emperor said.

Therma's eyes lit up.

The Kingdom of Tarragona was located in the southwest of the Kingdom of Gaul, separated from the Galloland by the treacherous Snow Cow Mountains.

The land there was barren, and the people were fierce. The Gallic Kingdom sent troops to interfere in the succession to the throne. To make a decisive move, they sent their main force, so this army was of great importance to the Gallic Kingdom.

But this is also a vulnerable army.

“There are only three main passes through the Snow Bull Mountains that can be used by a large army.” Fatih’s finger moved along the mountain line, his fingertip tracing the ridges marked with brown ink. “If the Rhine Alliance can send an elite force to seize these passes first, then the Gallic army in Tarragona will be trapped.”

"How much food do they consume every day? That poor place, Tarago, simply can't afford to feed them."

Therma continued, speaking faster: "And if this army starts plundering in order to survive, it will completely push the Tarragonas to the opposite side."

"At that time, we will be besieged from both inside and outside, either starving to death or suffering heavy casualties in the breakout battle."

"Regardless of the outcome, it will be a heavy blow to the Kingdom of Gaul—the loss of elite troops, the loss of control over Tarragona, and a complete loss of international prestige."

The more she talked, the more she felt that this was highly likely.

Every logical link was perfectly aligned, and every tactical choice was consistent with Weisen's precise, efficient, and ruthless style.

“And Your Majesty, don’t forget,” Therma added, pointing to a spot on the west side of the map, “the Duchy of Wesen now has a division of troops just west of the Kingdom of Tarragona.”

"Nominally, it's a war against infidels, but who can guarantee they won't suddenly advance eastward when war breaks out?"

Fatih's lips curled into that cold smile again.

This time, there was more appreciation in his smile—not appreciation for the enemy, but recognition of Therma's keen insight.

The study fell silent again.

But this silence is different. It is full of tension, like a fully drawn bowstring, like low pressure before a storm, like energy accumulating deep within the earth's crust before a volcanic eruption.

Serma looked at the emperor.

She knew that Fatih was making a difficult decision: whether to tell young Louis about this speculation.

Fatih closed his eyes.

This time, he only thought for five minutes.

“Tell him,” the emperor opened his eyes, his gaze unwavering, “but not all of it.”

"We only said, 'Based on intelligence analysis, the Rhine Alliance may take military action against the Kingdom of Gaul within the next six months, and we recommend strengthening border defenses.'"

"As for the specific direction and methods, let the Gauls guess for themselves."

Therma immediately understood the emperor's intention.

This fulfills the obligations of an ally without revealing too much of one's own intelligence analysis capabilities.

(End of this chapter)