Declaration of Neutrality

October 12, 1916. It had been one day since the founding of the Ras Council. Judging by the stiff backs of the Ras lords, none of them had slept well the night before. And that made sense—the rumors about today's first agenda item must have spread by last night.

I sat on the throne, slowly scanning the conference room. I'd read Thesiger's document three times the night before. Entente request for participation. Dispatch of a military technical advisory group, supply of small arms, support for League of Nations membership. And guarantees for our current borders. Obvious carrots. But I knew what lurked behind them. The Ras lords seated here had no idea that I knew.

"Today's agenda, I'm sure you've all heard about it already." I opened my mouth. "The British, French, and Italian envoys have formally requested Ethiopia's participation on the Entente side. This is the first matter we must discuss following the founding of the Ras Council."

The room fell silent for a long moment. As expected, it was broken by Ras Seyum Mangasha of Tigray.

"Your Majesty." He leaned forward. Something gleamed in his eyes—greed or ambition, hard to tell in this setting. "You said the Entente's proposal includes guarantees for our borders."

"That's right."

"In that case." Seyum took a breath. His shoulders rose slightly. "What about Eritrea?"

Ah, right on cue. I kept my expression unchanged. Seyum pressed on. "Eritrea is originally our land. Illegally occupied by Italy. If we join the Entente, Italy will need our cooperation to hold the line against Austria. Couldn't we demand Eritrea's return as a condition?"

A few Ras lords exchanged glances. For Tigray, Eritrea was more than just territory. It lay right next to Aksum, the cradle of Ethiopian civilization, under the Italian flag. Whether Seyum's gleam was pure ethnic fervor or territorial hunger, either way, it was dangerous. He gestured toward the Aussa Sultanate. "The same goes for Aussa on the Somali front. His Majesty Iyasu tried allying with those chiefs for the same reason. Joining the Entente could secure their recognition of our influence there."

I waited until he finished. Then I looked at my father. Ras Mikael sat with arms crossed, silent. His gaze fixed on Seyum was sunk very low. That look means he's already decided.

Father spoke first. "Eritrea." The word came out short and heavy. "Italy is Entente now."

Ras Seyum's eyebrow twitched. "Yes. Which means if we join the Entente, Italy becomes our ally. What's the guarantee that our ally Italy would return Eritrea?"

"But couldn't we make it a condition?"

"A condition." Something strange laced Ras Mikael's voice—not quite mockery, but far from agreement. "In war, conditions are granted by the losers. But Italy isn't losing. Even bleeding on the Isonzo River, Eritrea poses no strategic burden for them. Do you think they'd hand it over just because we join the Entente?"

As Seyum fell silent, Father continued. "Even a written promise on paper. It's only honored when you have the power to enforce it."

The room grew still. I let the silence linger a moment before speaking. "Father is right."

Seyum looked at me.

"Eritrea is land we want back. Aussa too. Those feelings aren't wrong." I paused a beat. "But the Entente isn't in a position to hand over Eritrea in return. Italy is the Entente. Britain and France have neither the pretext nor the will to force an ally's colony back. And after the war ends, even less so."

Seyum's face showed he was weighing a rebuttal. But unable to overturn Ras Mikael's logic head-on, he finally leaned back against his chair.

Then Abuna Mateos spoke, slowly but clearly. "Your Majesty."

I turned to the patriarch. He'd sat as an observer at yesterday's founding session. His presence here today meant he intended to speak.

"Europe's war is Europe's war." His voice was low and resonant, carrying the full weight of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church's leader. "Does the mud of the Somme, where Europeans slaughter each other, justify the blood of Ethiopian faithful? Must Adwa's proud warriors gasp out their lives on poison gas-choked French fronts?"

As the room hushed, Abuna continued. "This is not Ethiopia's war. Not Africa's war. Would God desire Solomon's heirs as sacrifices in the white men's war?"

Now the mood was shifting. The Ras lords' expressions changed. Seyum's eyes lowered slightly; Ras Kassa Haile uncrossed his arms. No one here was ignorant of the church's weight in Ethiopia.

I glanced at Tafari. From the moment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Abuna finished, he'd sat utterly still. His fingers twitched once slowly on his knee. He's calculating right now.

I rose from my seat. "Thank you for your words, Abuna."

The patriarch met my gaze.

"I will now summarize and consolidate the views of everyone gathered here."

I scanned the room once more. The Ras lords' faces. Eyes each scheming differently.

"I agree that participation is difficult. In Europe right now, Bulgaria—with a population of 4 million—has mobilized over 600,000 to hold the line. Reports say nearly half their entire male population has been conscripted since the war began."

I paused briefly. "Ethiopia's population is 15 million. On numbers alone, it looks like we could field a massive army."

Ras Kassa Haile tilted his head.

"But our soldiers carry outdated rifles captured at Adwa. Against the machine guns, poison gas, and field artillery on the European fronts, how many of those soldiers would survive?"

The room fell quiet.

"We won at Adwa because we were strong, yes—but also because it was fought on our land, in terrain ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we chose, against an enemy we knew. Europe's fronts are different. If Ethiopian soldiers die in that mud, their blood becomes a sacrifice I offer to the great powers."

Ras Mikael let out a low grunt of agreement.

"But if we just refuse?" asked Ras Hailu of Gojjam. "Won't the Entente turn against us? The impression lingers that we were close to the Central Powers during Iyasu's time."

"Exactly." I nodded. "Which is why it's not a refusal."

All eyes turned to me.

"It's a declaration of neutrality."

I continued. "Ethiopia sides with neither. We neither join the war nor oppose it. Per the Hague Convention's neutrality principles, no belligerent may use Ethiopian territory for the war. At the same time, we maintain diplomatic ties with both sides and build the legitimacy to claim a seat at the postwar peace table."

A shift rippled through the air. Ras Kassa Haile spoke first. "Will Britain and France accept that neutrality?"

"They will," I said. "What they need right now is for Ethiopia not to openly side with Germany like Iyasu did. Our neutrality alone lets them breathe easy on the Somalia and Sudan fronts. They don't need our soldiers dying on the Somme."

Tafari spoke for the first time. "An official declaration based on the Hague Convention gives it solid diplomatic legitimacy. The Entente would be hard-pressed to refute it outright."

His voice was low and measured. A sign he agreed with this course.

Seyum pondered briefly, then asked again. "And Eritrea?"

"That's for later," I replied. "We must think about the board after this war ends—post-1918. When the League of Nations forms, Ethiopia must have a seat there, and we can raise the Eritrea issue from that position. There's more real gain in preserving neutrality now and making our voice heard in the postwar negotiations than throwing our soldiers into the grinder today."

Ras Seyum remained silent for a long while. Then Abuna Mateos murmured softly. "Neutrality means not sending Ethiopia's sons to wars that are not God's."

The weight of those words fell differently into the room—like the pronouncement of law. The Ras lords' gazes swept each other; silent conversations passed several times. Ras Mikael nodded slowly. That single gesture from Father was like directing Wollo's troops toward a target.

Ras Kassa Haile spoke first. "I agree to the declaration of neutrality."

Next was Ras Lul Seged. Then Ras Hailu Tekle Haymanot. Nods rippled left and right like a wave.

Seyum was last. He looked at me for a moment. I could read the lingering regret for Eritrea in his eyes. But after Father and Abuna, he had no grounds to stand alone.

"I agree to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠declaration of neutrality."

I exhaled quietly. "Passed unanimously."

My voice echoed through the room. "The Ethiopian Empire will not participate in any way in the ongoing European war and hereby declares official neutrality in accordance with the Hague Convention principles. This decision is recorded as the first official resolution of the Ras Council."

The Entente envoys gathered at the hilltop British consulate. A single messenger rode up there, dust-covered, and shouted a single document before the gates.

British Consul Wilfred Thesiger took the document and stood by the window. He read it through his glasses, then sighed quietly.

"Good... very good news."

A map floated in his mind. Sudan, Somaliland, the Red Sea. If Ethiopia had jumped into the war, all those borders could have gone up in flames.

He took up his pen and drafted a dispatch to London.

French Consul Charles Brice raised his wine glass with a smile. "Gentlemen, today we averted one war."

"If they're neutral, it's not bad for us either." He gazed into the darkness outside the window. Somewhere to the north lay Italian Eritrea. "But... I don't think they've given up on the sea."

After a brief silence, the British consul said slowly, "That's why we're here."