Chapter 18: If Not Spent on Military Expenses, Is It Meant to Serve as Reparations?
Half a day later, Britannia’s Prime Minister Chambers received the envoy from André.
The envoy’s arguments were largely the same.
“The Amato people have not ceased their advance on Cyrus for a moment. Don’t forget, if our country repels Amato’s attack, we may lack the strength to pursue them, but the frustrated Amato forces will likely turn south and march straight into southern Cyrus. That region is the very core of your nation’s interests.”
Prime Minister Chambers was still hesitating.
The envoy pressed further, “What then? We all know Amato lacks rubber. Who can guarantee they won’t push further into Siam and then invade White Elephant?”
The Prime Minister’s pupils constricted sharply.
White Elephant was hailed as the jewel in Britannia’s crown—its importance to them was obvious.
Even though Britannia’s arms exports accounted for 17% of Amato’s supplies at this moment, Chambers was well aware of the gravity of the situation.
Especially after the envoy said, “His Highness promises that if Amato attacks White Elephant, we are willing to support your country with two army divisions, with your navy responsible for transporting troops and equipment. You provide the arms, we provide the manpower.”
Though the Far East of Rascia was impoverished, the people there were formidable fighters.
Britannia’s navy was reputed to be the world’s best, yet their army was notoriously poor, unable to compare in numbers to the “European steamroller.”
Moreover, the envoy presented irrefutable evidence: Prince André had taken a “family photo” of nearly a thousand prisoners captured in Lanwood, shot from various angles to prove their combat capability.
All these conditions and facts completely tipped the scale in Chambers’ mind.
Even the war-weary Britannia in Cyrus was willing to lend support, especially since André’s men came bearing a list of Asgard’s aid to negotiate with the Prime Minister, who was always eager to avoid conflict through appeasement and was more than willing to spend money, waving his hand decisively.
A new European announcement was made:
[Britannia declares a 100 million “Brit-pounds” war loan to the Grand Duchy of Berlia!]
In these times, the Brit-pound was still valuable.
One Brit-pound could be exchanged for four Arlica units, or ten Imperial Marks.
An ounce (31.1 grams) of gold could fetch 35 Arlica units.
One hundred million Brit-pounds converted into Rascia rubles—disregarding the unreliable official exchange rate—amounted to at least three billion rubles.
The annual interest rate was only ten percent!
As this news spread, nations were stunned.
Wait—wasn’t that Berlia’s stud horse the joint son-in-law of the two countries?
Even a biological son wouldn’t be treated this well.
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That’s war—before the real results come in, everyone only watches the so-called “expectations.”
Two great powers publicly supporting the Grand Duchy of Berlia, while the Rascia Emperor did nothing—wouldn’t that make him a laughingstock?
This time, Zhang Shan had truly put his own emperor in a tight spot.
Zhang Shan didn’t care. When the first batch of Odin III’s arms were airlifted in, he casually stepped on an open crate of 98k rifles at the airport and told General Mikhail, “My general! Everything you asked for, I got it for you. If you still don’t fight well after this, don’t blame me for stepping in to command.”
What a powerful reason!
In just a week, the seemingly worthless Third Prince had magically produced a large stockpile of resources.
Money? Plenty.
Weapons? Plenty.
With such a strong heir apparent, what was there left for them, the enforcers, to say?
Mikhail responded firmly, “Your Highness! Your wisdom deeply inspires the soldiers. We will fight to the death to bring victory to Your Highness.”
Zhang Shan raised one finger, “One month! I’m giving you at most one month! I’m not forcing you to die, but in the eyes of the great powers, the Amato people aren’t even worth their place at the table. If we can’t defeat Amato in three months, the whole world will think Rascia has weakened. The great powers will covet our motherland’s lands again, and even our vassal states will become unstable.”
“Your Highness! We understand!” The generals swore their oaths and left, brimming with enthusiasm.
The fully armed army was about to depart for the front lines.
In truth, airlifting so much weaponry was impossible. The first batch was intended to stabilize morale. The bulk of the supplies still had to be transported via the Berlia Grand Railway, a journey of more than ten days even if all went smoothly.
Moreover, although twenty million Imperial Marks worth of weapons seemed substantial, it was actually not much.
A 98k rifle cost about 26 Arlica units wholesale, roughly 65 Imperial Marks.
An MG-34 general-purpose machine gun cost 325 Marks.
A 105mm howitzer cost 16,400 Marks.
These were factory prices from the Asgardians.
And that didn’t even include ammunition.
If all converted to rifles and ammo, it amounted to just 250,000 rifles.
War is not simple arithmetic. Soldiers need more than just a gun—they need helmets, entrenching tools, and other tactical gear.
Once all the weapons arrived and were properly allocated, it would cost about 3.3 million Marks to fully equip a division.
This amount of arms would only outfit seven infantry divisions.
And this was just the weapons.
According to Asgardian standards, a fully equipped infantry division required at least 1,800 trucks.
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Zhang Shan lowered the standard—but even then, all the transport was horse-drawn.
One division had hundreds of heavy machine guns, over a hundred artillery pieces, plus ammunition, food, horse feed, and other supplies, requiring thousands of horses to support.
Because the horses were requisitioned without cost for now, after the war they would have to negotiate with various khanates for compensation.
Furthermore, the equipment for seven divisions would not arrive all at once. The Asgardians’ first delivery only included enough for two divisions. Production took time.
Fortunately, Zhang Shan wasn’t drawing from a single source.
His older brother Maxim’s legacy of talent and connections began to pay off.
They used their silver tongues to begin persuading the other five prince-electors besides the emperor.
“We’re not borrowing money for nothing. We have 100 million Brit-pounds and 50 million Marks as collateral.”
“After the war starts, the ruble will surely depreciate further—why not exchange some for Brit-pounds?”
“Or, sell us your outdated rifles cheaply.”
“You can phase out your old guns and use that money to buy new ones. You know we’re in urgent need.”
Thus, leveraging loans upon loans and multiplying leverage, Zhang Shan managed within two weeks to procure 150,000 rifles, 2,000 machine guns, and 1,000 artillery pieces of various kinds.
Even if some of the weapons were as old as Zhang Shan’s grandfather…
Zhang Shan was well aware he was playing with fire—this was a desperate measure.
War was a cruel business.
In peacetime, one could save money because one expected to live out their natural life.
In wartime, if you don’t spend on the military, what else is money for? Reparations?
To lose meant death for the entire family, meant losing everything.
Knowing the Far East’s infrastructure was weak, they still had to fight desperately—this was the harsh truth.
The grand duke, aware of his son’s bold actions, did not stop him, but instead asked Zhang Shan one question: “Have you thought about how you will repay the money after the war?”