CH 6 The Imperial Council Part 3

Looking at the pale, sweating faces of the council members, I smirked. Fear was an excellent motivator, and these men—once full of bluster and entitlement—now sat cowed before me. Silently, I thanked my father for teaching me the art of control. Knowing when to intimidate, when to punish, and when to hold back had always been his specialty. His lessons served me well now.

Clearing my throat sharply, I allowed a heavy silence to stretch over the room before I began. "Gentlemen," I said, my voice calm but with a steely edge, "I trust this council is now ready to function properly?"

The men seated around the table nodded hastily, their discomfort plain on their faces. It was almost comical—men who considered themselves powerful reduced to nervous wrecks in my presence. But my amusement was fleeting. I had no time for their cowardice; the empire stood on the brink of ruin, and decisive action was needed.

"Good," I continued, leaning forward to rest my hands on the polished wood of the council table. My gaze settled on Arun, the Head of Imperial Intelligence. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers drumming on a folder as though searching for a way to avoid my scrutiny. It didn't matter; he had nowhere to hide.

"Arun," I said, letting his name hang in the air for a moment, "how did this happen? How did the British and Chinese not only invade but seize our territories? They killed the Emperor—my predecessor—and have pushed us into this humiliating position. And what of the Chinese? They were decades behind in firearms technology. Now, they have advanced rifles and cannons. Explain this colossal intelligence failure."

Arun swallowed hard, sweat beading on his brow. His voice trembled as he began. "Your Majesty, the British and Chinese formed a secret alliance. The British provided the Chinese with advanced firearms technology, avoiding detection by directly transferring the designs. The Chinese then manufactured the weapons themselves, quickly modernizing their arsenal. Together, they launched a coordinated assault on Bengal Province."

I raised an eyebrow. "And our intelligence network? Where were they during all this?"

Arun flinched, his hands tightening around the edges of the folder. "The British took extreme measures to ensure secrecy, Your Majesty. Their movements were heavily encrypted, and their coordination with the Chinese was carried out through intermediaries. By the time we detected the buildup, it was too late."

The more he spoke, the harder it became to contain my anger. Still, I allowed him to continue. "And the Bengal invasion?" I pressed.

"They attacked swiftly and without warning," Arun admitted, his voice low. "The British fleet approached the Bengali coast under the cover of darkness. They sailed only at night, navigating with precision to avoid our naval patrols. By the time we realized what was happening, their forces were already on shore."

I turned my attention to the Grand Admiral, whose pale complexion and downcast eyes betrayed his shame. "Admiral," I said sharply, "how did your navy fail so completely? The British slipped past our patrols, landed troops, and you didn't so much as sound an alarm?"

The Grand Admiral opened his mouth to speak but faltered. After a moment, he managed to stammer, "Your Majesty, the British were exceedingly cautious. They used small, maneuverable ships and avoided major shipping lanes. By the time their fleet entered our waters, it was already too late for us to respond."

"Too late," I repeated coldly. The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "Too late for you to do your job. Too late for the Emperor. Too late for the thousands of lives lost because of your failure."

The Grand Admiral looked as though he might faint, his hands gripping the table for support. But I didn't let up. I couldn't. The empire couldn't afford any more incompetence.

Turning to the Field Marshal, I issued my next command. "You will take two field armies and reclaim every inch of territory that has fallen to the enemy. Every single British and Chinese soldier who sets foot on our land must die. Do I make myself clear?"

The Field Marshal's face went as white as parchment, and he gasped audibly. "Y-yes, Your Majesty," he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "It will be done."

"It had better be," I said curtly, leaning back in my chair. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on my shoulders, but I forced myself to remain composed. There was no room for weakness here—not from me, not from anyone.

Finally, I turned back to Arun. "Locate the King of Vietnam and his family," I ordered. "If they're still alive, I want them evacuated to safety immediately. The British and Chinese will turn their attention to Southeast Asia soon enough. We need allies."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Arun said, bowing his head.

Satisfied, I rose from my chair, signaling the end of the meeting. The council members remained frozen in their seats, their fear still palpable. Without another word, I left the chamber, the heavy doors slamming shut behind me.

In the quiet of my private office, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. The meeting had gone as expected, but the weight of the empire's precarious situation bore down on me like a millstone.

I settled into the chair behind my desk, its leather creaking softly beneath me. The surface was cluttered with documents—intelligence reports, maps, casualty lists, and supply records. Each one told the same grim story: an empire battered and bleeding, its enemies closing in from all sides.

As I sifted through the papers, my thoughts raced. The British and Chinese had caught us off guard, but I would not allow them to capitalize on their advantage. Plans began to form in my mind—contingencies, counteroffensives, and strategies to turn the tide. It would be a long, brutal fight, but I refused to let the empire fall.

One report caught my attention, its contents stirring a flicker of hope amidst the gloom. It detailed a potential alliance with the Kingdom of Burma, whose ruler shared a mutual distrust of the British. If we could secure their support, it could tip the scales in our favor. I made a note to follow up on it immediately.

Hours passed as I worked, the room growing dim as the sun dipped below the horizon. Yet I felt no urge to stop. Every minute mattered; every decision carried the weight of thousands of lives. The empire's survival depended on my ability to act swiftly and decisively.

By the time I finally set down my pen, exhaustion threatened to overtake me. But even as weariness gnawed at the edges of my mind, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The British and Chinese believed they had broken us. They would soon learn how wrong they were.

For now, there was no time for rest. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and I would meet them head-on.