Emergency Meeting – Britain and Italy Close Ranks
Emergency council. Britain and Italy had joined hands. I'd anticipated it, but this was the first time it had come in such a clear form, at such precise timing.
In original history, when this agreement was signed, the regent Tafari Mekonnen of Ethiopia at the time had submitted a protest to the League of Nations, pressuring both Britain and Italy simultaneously in a diplomatic battle—and it worked. Both countries backed off to some degree as a result. But that was original history, and the Ethiopia of then was not the Ethiopia of now.
I have more cards up my sleeve.
I rose from my seat and walked over to the map hanging on one wall of the study. East Africa. With Ethiopia at the center, Eritrea and Italian Somaliland gripped it like pincers from both sides—a layout clear at a glance. British Sudan wrapped around the northwest, and British Somaliland the northeast. What Italy wanted was a railroad line straight from Eritrea to Somaliland. If it cut through our Ethiopian west, that route would effectively slice Ethiopia's belly as a military supply line and the artery of colonial control. Italy's demand was to lay that track across Ethiopian soil.
The dam Britain wanted targeted the upper Blue Nile—the river originating in the Ethiopian highlands that sustained the agriculture of distant Sudan and Egypt. Britain had long desired a dam at its source, but that meant direct British control of the flow. If realized, Ethiopia would lose the freedom to use its own water as it wished.
Combined, the demands meant Britain seizing the Blue Nile in the northwest and Italy's railroad carving through the east. I slowly traced the outline of Ethiopia on the map with my finger. From a designer's eye, what Italy and Britain were attempting now wasn't war. It was seizing the terrain before war even began.
If Ethiopia rejected these two demands, the pair would gain the pretext of Ethiopia being an "unstable nation refusing cooperation." And someday, that would justify forcing it through by force. Rejection couldn't be half-hearted.
I lowered my hand from the map, walked back to the desk, and picked up a notepad. I wrote it briefly in Hangul.
Strategic Goal: Not Refusal, but Reversal.
It took less than two hours to convene the meeting. The secret conference room—not the grand imperial hall, but a smaller side chamber. The afternoon sun of Addis Ababa's dry season slanted through narrow windows, illuminating document envelopes brought by Heruy and the map I'd laid out myself side by side on the table.
Four people took their seats. Tafari Mekonnen at the first seat on the left, War Minister Fitawrari Habte Giyorgis opposite him, Foreign Affairs Director Heruy Wolde Selassie at the end. And at one corner of the table sat Envoy Yeo Un-hyung.
I scanned the room from the head seat.
"You already know why I've called this meeting today," I began. "The exchange of letters between Britain and Italy. Two demands. Official notification to us will come soon."
Heruy nodded and spread the documents on the table.
"A confirmation call from Consul Russell came this morning about the meeting schedule, and I've replied through official channels that we'll accept."
Tafari glanced at me briefly; I knew what that look asked. You know what accepting publicly means.
I met his gaze head-on and continued. "Let me summarize the situation. Italy wants concession rights for a railroad linking Eritrea and Somaliland. The route cuts through Ethiopia's western interior."
I paused there, tracing a line with my finger.
"Britain wants concession rights for a dam on the upper Blue Nile. Officially for Sudan's irrigation projects. Together, these demands leave Ethiopia pierced from western water sources to eastern belly. Logistics, water, strategic points—all dependent on outsiders."
Minister Habte grunted lowly—not opposition, but suppressed rage.
"It's barely thirty years since we drove Italy out at Adwa, and these bastards..."
His words hung heavy in the room for a moment. I felt the weight of the name "Italy" for the Adwa generation in every person here, every time.
Tafari spoke. His voice low and calm, as always.
"The demands coming together means they won't let us divide and conquer. Reject one, and the other steps in—that's the setup."
"Exactly," I picked up. "Britain floats the dam to see if we waver, and Italy slips in the railroad during the gap. They've divided roles."
Envoy Yeo quietly raised his hand.
"Your Highness."
"Yes, Envoy."
I permitted him, and he drew a document from his robes.
"I've shared the situation with the Korean Empire's Foreign Ministry. Before coming here, a cable arrived from Seoul—Marshal Park Young-ho replied personally."
I took the document and unfolded it. It was short. Pure Park Young-ho style.
Situation confirmed. 1918 agreement clauses ready for implementation. League of Nations Council speaking support available if needed. – Park Young-ho
I read the lines twice, folded it, and spoke to Yeo.
"Thank you." I turned back to the room. "We don't have much time to talk. So, we have only one path."
Heruy paused in preparing papers and looked at me. Tafari rested his fingers on his knee, unmoving.
"We reject both demands—but turn that rejection itself into our strategy."
At my answer, Tafari's fingers on his knee slowly clenched once, then released. A rare tell when unexpected info hit.
Right.
"To clarify, making rejection a strategy isn't just signaling refusal. It's exposing this agreement to the entire world."
In other words, even if you want to do dirty work, you don't want to get dirty yourself. "Britain and Italy want this pact handled in secret. They notify Ethiopia in a formal manner, hoping we'll cave under pressure or at least acquiesce."
I placed my hand on the map.
"But by agreeing to official meetings through channels, we've already signaled it can't stay secret."
Heruy's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Are you saying we petition the League of Nations, Your Highness?"
"Not just petitioning," I said. "Petitioning leaves a record, and that's important. But we can do more. Superficially, they want railroad and dam. Substantively, it's external control of Ethiopia's strategic points. If the international community grasps that true aim, those two nations must defend the pact's legitimacy."
Envoy Yeo asked lowly.
"In what language will Your Highness convey Ethiopia's position?"
I knew that question struck the core. How Ethiopia's voice sounded in the League—joined in 1923—depended on the language and logic we shaped it with.
"Two directions, simultaneously," I continued. "First, the League of Nations. We secured a clause at Versailles in 1919: 'The territorial integrity of the Ethiopian Empire is under League protection, and all unilateral military actions without Council approval are permanently prohibited.' We explain what that means right now, before the Council."
Only then did Tafari speak.
"Railroad concessions aren't military action. The treaty clause may not apply directly."
Sharp point, but one flaw.
"Correct. Railroad and dam are civilian infrastructure in name. Hard to claim direct treaty violation."
I paused a beat, then said, "But League Charter Article 10 guarantees members' territorial integrity and political independence. We force Council debate on whether a railroad from Eritrea to Somaliland piercing Ethiopian interior infringes our political independence in substance."
Heruy's gaze shifted as he spoke.
"Just getting that agenda on the Council docket forces those two to justify the pact."
"Yes. Opening that forum matters more than winning there. Ensuring the pact isn't secret—that's goal one."
Minister Habte unfolded his arms and asked.
"And the second, Your Highness?"
I placed my hands neatly on the table.
"Show strength."
"Pardon?"
"We know the calculus Britain and Italy made in signing this pact about Ethiopia. We won at Adwa, but thirty years have passed. They may think today's Ethiopia is still that era's—spears in hand, importing foreign guns."
I paused briefly, then continued.
"We must make them realize that's no longer true."
Tafari's eyes shifted ever so subtly.
"Public Mehal Sefari training demo?"
"That's one option, but not what I mean."
I pulled out a new map and spread it on the table. Centered on Addis Ababa and surroundings: arsenal sites, rail stations, Mehal Sefari garrisons marked.
"Let's inventory what we have now," I said. "Rifles: 100,000 cumulative. Light machine guns: 9,000. Schneider mountain guns: 160. Vickers heavy MGs in licensed production. Arsenal ammo output: over 1 million rounds monthly. Alessa steel mill operational. Currency stabilized by gold mine revenue."
I listed the figures one by one, quietly reading the shifting eyes in the room. Minister Habte knew the numbers, but hearing them in this context hit different.
"These figures are partly known to Britain and Italy from 1919 licensing talks. But..."
I tapped the table once, pointing to a spot northeast of Addis Ababa on the map.
"University hospital and officer academy. Harar textile factory. Alessa steel mill."
I said, "What we show is that this nation is prepared. Not just holding guns, but making them—training doctors, smelting iron, weaving cloth."
The room fell briefly silent. Tafari narrowed his eyes for the first time—a reappraisal.
"Not a typical show of force, then."
"Correct," I replied, meeting his gaze. "A show of force might give them pause short-term, but it won't deter invasion. When they see and report back to Rome, 'Ethiopia can fight' differs from 'Ethiopia stands on its own.'"