"Your Majesty! Disaster! We just received news this morning that the 4th and 6th Divisions on the Nieuwpoort front have fallen into chaos. Many soldiers, and even two regimental commanders, have mutinied and refused to attack!
"A massive wave of unrest has swept through the frontline troops. Part of it is because they fell for the Demanian propaganda, but it is also due to how disastrous yesterday's offensive was.
"A colonel died in battle yesterday, and his regiment was nearly wiped out during the assault. Two other regiments also suffered horrific casualties. It is exactly those two heavily depleted regiments that are now making excuses to refuse further orders, demanding to at least be pulled back to recover."
Shortly after seven o'clock that morning, inside the Belgin King's temporary palace in Ostend, a group of civil officials and general staff officers finally succumbed to complete panic. They had no choice but to report the horrific news to Albert I.
Albert I was still eating breakfast at the time. The frustrating news ruined his appetite entirely, making even his coffee hard to swallow.
"De Brocq! Explain this to me clearly. How exactly did all this happen? Why is the army out of control again? Why can we never keep unfavorable news contained?!"
Deeply agitated, Albert I grabbed Defense Minister De Brocq and demanded answers.
De Brocq had no choice but to recount the problem in detail, adding his own analysis. Feeling just as helpless, he explained, "...So, Your Majesty, that is exactly how it is. The 16th Regiment of the Demanian 6th Army's 12th Division, currently inside the encirclement, pulled off an array of despicable tricks. Leaflets, photographs, telegrams, releasing refugees... it was an endless barrage of blows. We were simply too overwhelmed to block it all."
"They are absolute demons!" Albert felt his lips turn dry and cracked. The lingering taste of coffee in his mouth seemed to grow increasingly bitter. "Didn't you say you investigated this? That the 16th Regiment's commander, Colonel List, is just a standard, old-school officer? How could a man like that devise so many vicious schemes? And this isn't just a one-off occurrence!"
Defense Minister De Brocq flushed with shame. "I am sorry, Your Majesty. It is our incompetence! I have tried my best to investigate, but that is not the most pressing issue right now. We must prioritize our efforts on the immediate crisis at hand."Furthermore, I don't believe the problem lies with List's 16th Regiment. That unit was hurriedly dispatched to Nieuwpoort only after the floodwaters rose. Even before they arrived, the enemy was already unleashing brilliant ploys one after another. There must be someone highly capable hidden among the enemy's very first vanguard units to reach Nieuwpoort."
"Forget it. We will review these matters after the battle is over," Albert said, waving his hand in disgust. He seemed entirely deflated. He then abruptly changed the subject, turning to Lieutenant General Felix.
"My Chief of Staff! Tell me, how exactly are we supposed to handle our current military predicament?"
Lieutenant General Felix had already prepared a contingency plan before arriving. He immediately snapped to attention and saluted.
"I believe we need to pull back the heavily damaged 4th Division to take over the city defenses here in Ostend. Then, we can deploy several regiments from the main force of the 1st Division—which is currently protecting Your Majesty—and send them forward for one final, desperate breakthrough! The enemy's schemes to damage our morale are indeed potent, but they shouldn't be powerful enough to outright collapse the army.
"The 4th Division is so weary of battle because they have launched continuous, desperate assaults without breaking through, and their casualties are simply too severe. The enemy's anti-war propaganda merely gave them an excuse to back down. If the 1st Division steps up to fill the gap, there should still be a sliver of hope to turn things around."
Albert closed his eyes in sorrow. He knew from the Chief of Staff's words that this was a final death-throe struggle—a cornered beast lashing out.
He could not help but voice his concerns. "But what if the 1st Division deploys and still fails to break through Nieuwpoort? And once the 1st Division is moved away, leaving the remnants of the 4th Division to defend Ostend, is it possible that our eastern defense line will collapse first? The 2nd Baria Division of the Demanian 6th Army has been relentlessly attacking our 1st Division on the eastern side of Ostend!"
Lieutenant General Felix replied, "That is why we can only send two regiments from the 1st Division to relieve them. We must leave at least two other regiments behind: one to serve as Your Majesty's royal guard, and the other to hold the eastern defense line during the rotation.
"Nieuwpoort is less than twenty kilometers away from here. The relief operation can be completed in a single morning. Relying on a relatively elite regiment to hold off the Demanian offensive on the eastern front for just one morning should still be achievable. The 1st Division is composed entirely of your direct loyalists, Your Majesty. They will definitely fight to the death and never retreat!"
Albert scoffed coldly. "But you still haven't said what happens if they fail to do so."
The king persistently clung to the question of the "worst-case scenario." Unable to evade it, Felix had no choice but to bite the bullet.
"If it truly comes to that... we will have no choice but to rely on the Britannians to support us. Hoping for the Franks to break through the German Army's defenses on the western side of Nieuwpoort is highly unlikely. The Frankish forces move too sluggishly. By midnight tonight, they might not even be able to scrape together two fully equipped divisions in the direction of Dunkirk and De Panne.
"Furthermore, they won't fight as fiercely as we do. We are trying to break out in a matter of life and death, while they have just concluded a long-distance march, sprinting all the way here from Arras. Those Frankish soldiers are absolutely weary of war by now.
"The kingdom's last hope rests with the warships of Britannia. We should have asked them to dispatch the Channel Fleet long ago, especially their heavy gunships, to provide us with covering fire."
Hearing this, Albert couldn't help but curse Felix out once again, calling him incompetent and demanding to know why he hadn't thought of contacting their allies sooner.
But Felix felt incredibly helpless. He was merely the Chief of Staff; he couldn't directly coordinate diplomatic assistance.
Decision-making processes in this era were inherently tedious, and every nation mobilized slowly. Yesterday, he hadn't realized the battle would deteriorate this rapidly, so it naturally never occurred to him to swallow his pride and immediately seek foreign help.
Now, having been harshly chewed out by the king, he hurried off in a panic to contact foreign reinforcements.
...
That morning, the Belgins' Secret Telegram for aid was routed back and forth, first arriving at the relevant diplomatic departments of the Brit Nation across the English Channel.
Then it was forwarded to 10 Downing Street. After the Prime Minister reviewed it, it was finally passed into the hands of his trusted Naval Minister, Warton Leonard Spencer.
By the time this entire process was completed, it was already noon. Minister Warton was eating lunch, and he only saw the Secret Telegram and the Prime Minister's instructions after his meal.
"Such severely shaken morale has actually appeared among the Belgin troops inside the encirclement? The Belgins aren't going to collapse completely, are they? How did the Demanians suddenly become so strong again, to the point where a single regiment actually managed to hold off a pincer attack from three Belgin divisions and one division of Franks?"
"What? The Demanians actually utilized such despicable, shameless, and unscrupulous tactics as airdropping photos of the Belgin army blowing up the dams and releasing flooded Belgin refugees? Are these still the Demanians I know? There must be an expert guiding the enemy troops! Could it be that some Britannian traitor think tank defected to the enemy?"
As the minister who possessed the deepest understanding of the Britannia Empire's highly immoral, shit-stirring nature, Warton's first reaction upon seeing the Belgins' complaining telegram was utter disbelief that the typically single-minded Demanians actually had this kind of brainpower.
His second reaction was to wonder if a Britannian traitor had been scheming and offering advice to the enemy.
It was just like two thousand years ago when the Han Chinese first began falling for the Xiongnu's ploys; their initial reaction was to wonder if a despicable, massive Han traitor like Zhonghang Yue had emerged to offer advice to the Xiongnu Chanyu.
Diplomatic instigation and political fraud were the exclusive patents of the "glorious and great offshore balancers." Such tactics had secretly engineered the deaths of generation after generation of continental hegemonies. How could they have spread to a barbaric nation that only understood brute force?
However, now was the time to focus on solving the problem. These questions could only be set aside to be slowly dealt with in the future.
Minister Warton suppressed all of his internal displeasure and forced himself to calm down. After repeatedly reviewing the situation, he decided to place a call to the Channel Fleet's detachment headquarters in Dover:
"Put me through to General Cecil! What? He went to a meeting? I'm giving him ten minutes. Have him call me back within ten minutes! This is Warton!"
Warton hung up the phone in a huff, irritably lighting a Havana cigar. Right after he finished smoking it, the telephone rang.
"Lord Minister! I apologize, I truly was in a meeting just now," the humble voice of Vice Admiral Cecil Burney immediately came through the other end of the line.
Warton demanded, "Which warship is currently closest to the Ostend front?"
Cecil replied, "To answer Your Excellency, it is the Arethusa-class Daring. It is less than twenty nautical miles from Ostend and can arrive in an hour. This ship was sent out the day before yesterday to destroy the enemy's undersea cables near Nieuwpoort."
Warton said, "An Arethusa-class? It has a top speed of twenty-eight knots? That's not bad. At the very least, it runs fast enough and steady enough. That's the one. Have it head to Dunkirk first to resupply and remain on standby for my orders.
"I need to communicate with the Belgin royal family right now. If their king is willing, or if the situation truly deteriorates to that point, we will need the Daring to rescue the king from the encirclement. Furthermore, what is the status of the other capital ships in your Channel Fleet detachment? Can they launch a sortie at any time?"
"Er... they will need some preparation time. As you know, my capital ships are all coal-burning Pre-dreadnoughts. Replenishing fuel, stocking ammunition, and heating the boilers before a battle is quite slow. Moreover, one of the capital ships is currently undergoing maintenance," Cecil lamented helplessly.
Warton was an old navy veteran himself, so he naturally understood this and did not give his subordinate a hard time. "Then I will give you at most forty-eight hours. Ideally, within twenty-four hours, have the entire detachment ready to set sail.
"Additionally, requisition some civilian vessels with large cargo capacities. In an absolute worst-case scenario, we may have to rely on the sea route from Ostend to rescue a portion of the surrounded allied forces."
Vice Admiral Cecil was highly alarmed. "Minister! That is completely useless! Ostend is not a large port. Even with large ships, there's no way to dock them; we would still need small boats to ferry them. The possibility of rapidly withdrawing a large army by sea from there simply does not exist!"
Warton snapped, "That is none of your concern! Just requisition the civilian vessels and get the detachment ready to deploy!"
Vice Admiral Cecil replied, "Yes! Minister!"