Chapter Sixty-Four: Powerless to Change Fate

When night fell, Feng Chengqian grew restless and uneasy. Though at such times, no news is often the best news, he felt his intelligence agents dispatched to Sarajevo ought at least to send word that they were safe.

It was not yet eight o’clock, Berlin time. As Feng Chengqian prepared to join Tirpitz, who had come specifically to invite him to dinner, a communications officer hurried in, delivering a telegram that had just arrived.

Feng Chengqian scanned it briefly, and his expression darkened at once. The message was terse: Archduke Ferdinand had been assassinated; the archduke and his wife were gravely wounded, their fate uncertain.

The telegram offered no further details.

“How could this happen? Didn’t we take precautions?” Feng Chengqian sighed inwardly, and told the equally shocked Tirpitz, “We did everything we could, yet still failed to prevent the assassination. No matter what, there’s nothing more we can say now. If the archduke survives, perhaps there remains a chance to avert disaster.”

“But...”

“Let’s go have dinner. Worrying here won’t help anyone.” Tirpitz sighed as well, reread the telegram, then followed Feng Chengqian to the officers’ mess.

Clearly, neither had much appetite.

Dinner was merely an excuse to regain composure.

Now, what Feng Chengqian needed to consider was not the details of the archduke’s assassination, but the chain reaction that might ensue.

Tirpitz knew what Feng Chengqian had done, and so he understood what worried him.

“Do you think the archduke’s assassination will become the spark for war?”

Feng Chengqian nodded, pushed his plate aside, clasped his hands on the table, and said, “If the archduke dies, war will break out.”

“But…”

“You doubt it?” Feng Chengqian smiled. “I know, Archduke Ferdinand was not well liked within Austria-Hungary, especially by the emperor and the conservative ministers. Some even believed his enlightened views threatened the unity and integrity of the empire. If his policy of national autonomy were extended, Austria-Hungary would surely splinter into several small nations, and the Habsburg dynasty would end. This idea even makes me suspect the assassination might be linked to internal forces within Austria-Hungary.”

“You mean…”

Feng Chengqian gestured for patience. “But one fact is undeniable: the archduke’s assassination in Sarajevo gives Austria-Hungary an excellent pretext to annex Serbia. This is exactly what those officials and generals hungry for war—or for territory—such as Chief of the General Staff Conrad, have been eagerly awaiting. By now, they’re likely already planning military action against Serbia.”

“If that happens, Russia will inevitably be drawn in.”

Feng Chengqian nodded. “That’s precisely what worries me most. Don’t forget, His Majesty has already promised: if Russia declares war on Austria-Hungary, we will join the conflict, and then France, according to the secret military alliance, will declare war on us, and Britain will follow.”

Tirpitz considered this. “Then we must find a way to prevent war from breaking out.”

“How?” Feng Chengqian asked.

“If the archduke survives, everything is negotiable. But if he dies in Sarajevo, nothing we do can prevent what’s coming.”

“Perhaps, the archduke is already dead, and Conrad and the others are trying to persuade the emperor now.”

“Then we should go to Potsdam immediately and have His Majesty intervene—perhaps he can influence the Austrian emperor.”

“What kind of influence?” Tirpitz hesitated, unable to answer.

“Obviously, His Majesty cannot simply offer condolences. At this moment, he can only express support—supporting the emperor in taking retaliatory action,” Feng Chengqian sighed. “Having His Majesty intervene will only worsen matters, fueling Austria-Hungary’s war ambitions.”

“But…”

“Patience. Since we can’t change anything, it’s best to watch and wait, then act when the time is right to alter the situation.”

“So, all we can do now is pray the archduke survives.”

Feng Chengqian forced a smile; he did not believe prayer would bring miracles.

All signs indicated that those wishing to eliminate Archduke Ferdinand were not just Serbian nationalists, but also Austrian nobles who saw him as a threat. Without the tacit approval and support of powerful interests, those ineffectual assassins could never have posed a real danger.

The crucial question was: who was the mastermind?

Though before Tirpitz, Feng Chengqian emphasized internal factors in Austria-Hungary, he was more inclined to believe the true instigators were the war-hungry powers of Britain, France, and Russia—especially Britain, exhausted by the naval arms race and facing financial ruin.

If Britain had a hand in the Sarajevo affair, war would be unavoidable.

Of course, Britain was not alone in its eagerness for war. In many ways, there were plenty within the empire who wished for the flames of conflict to be kindled soonest. The most enthusiastic, naturally, were those who profited from war: capitalists, especially the monopolistic arms manufacturers and financiers.

Thus, Feng Chengqian realized that whatever he did would only delay the war, not prevent it.

Would delaying benefit the empire?

For the navy, certainly. Although shipbuilding slowed somewhat after Feng Chengqian left office, within two years—by 1916—the imperial navy would reach seventy percent of the Royal Navy’s total strength. After Tirpitz became commander, he formally proposed the “risk fleet” concept based on Feng Chengqian’s naval strategy, winning the full support of the crown prince and the emperor. The core was simple: once the imperial navy was strong enough, Britain would fear suffering crippling losses in war, being replaced by other maritime powers, and would not dare oppose the empire. Thus, Britain would acknowledge the empire’s maritime status and share oceanic interests, rather than attempt to crush it through a major war.

Simply put, a strong enough fleet could keep Britain out of the conflict.

Whether this theory held true, at least by 1916, the imperial navy would be able to directly challenge the Royal Navy.

By then, Britain would have to think thrice before entering the war.

Even if Britain did join, the imperial navy could match the Royal Navy thanks to advantages in ship performance, crew quality, and tactical prowess.

On the other hand, for the army, further delay brought no benefit.

Russia had not yet recovered from the Russo-Japanese War, France’s military revolution was incomplete, while the empire had already established an efficient military system, expanded its domestic rail network, and built a comprehensive strategic reserve. All the prerequisites for war set by Marshal Schlieffen had either been met or were about to be; the empire’s military advantage over France and Russia was at its zenith.

Two years’ delay would see the situation change. If Russia resolved its domestic issues and France completed its military reforms, then even if the imperial navy could defeat the Royal Navy at sea, the army might not win on the European battlefield. For the empire, defeat on land meant national ruin.

Understanding this, Feng Chengqian had to admit the emperor had likely long intended to wage a major war.

Thus, advising the emperor now was clearly unwise.

Realizing all this, Feng Chengqian could only sigh—no matter how hard he tried, war would break out, and history would not change much.

Since war was inevitable, Feng Chengqian no longer dwelled on it.

In any case, the fighting would come, and he had already done his utmost to forge a powerful navy for the empire. Whether victory would be theirs depended on fate.

As the saying goes, man proposes, heaven disposes.

In Feng Chengqian’s view, even if the empire were defeated, there would be nothing to regret—he had done all he could.

Leaving the dining hall, Feng Chengqian went to the naval command.

That night, he did not sleep, requesting his secretary to gather all the imperial navy’s warship records. Now, he had to prepare for the coming great war. First, he needed a thorough understanding of the navy’s overall strength, especially the ships built in the last two years.

Whether the imperial navy could fight, and how well, depended on these ships.

He had to admit, his efforts had not been in vain.

The current imperial navy was fundamentally different from the one Feng Chengqian had once known. Not only did it possess more capital ships, but it also had greater potential for development. Even the major vessels built in earlier years offered considerable room for improvement, which had narrowed the gap with the Royal Navy by degrees.

Thus, Feng Chengqian’s reputation as the “father of the imperial navy” was well deserved.

Besides setting out a rational development path, Feng Chengqian had made many contributions: upon returning to the navy, he began refitting early capital ships like the “Crown Prince,” enabling vessels with ten or even twenty years of service to remain active, capable of challenging newer warships and continuing to serve the empire.

With this thorough understanding, Feng Chengqian’s confidence grew.

If war broke out within the year, the imperial navy would not necessarily be at a disadvantage; it might even win some brilliant victories in the North Sea, dampening the Royal Navy’s arrogance.

But would war erupt before year’s end?

When the emperor’s chamberlain arrived, Feng Chengqian realized dawn had broken. The emperor had summoned him, clearly in connection with the Sarajevo affair.