"Yes, Your Highness. What do you mean—ah, the establishment of the medical department. I'll make sure it's given proper attention."
"No. This is something all of you need to recognize the seriousness of. I think it would be better to formally bring it up as an agenda item during a full council."
"Are you saying we don't understand the seriousness of the matter?"
"Ahem, Your Highness. With all due respect, FitzRoy is the overall commander of the Army. Of course, compared to the Navy, the Army may lack a bit of systematic organization, but still…"
A faint crack appeared in FitzRoy's expression, and even Parker subtly took a jab at the Army while signaling that I might have gone a bit too far.
We were, after all, in the middle of a war, and these men were the ones responsible for it.
Even if I technically held the honorary title of admiral, I wasn't actually commanding troops. A reaction like this was only natural.
Men who had spent their entire lives on the battlefield wouldn't take kindly to someone who had merely hovered around a few war zones telling them they knew nothing.
Still, if you want to provoke attention, you have to go in hard.
Especially in a war that's already as good as won—making a bit of a scene now only amplifies the impact when the results come out.
"Of course, I'm not dismissing your judgment, Field Marshall. You bear responsibility for countless soldiers' lives—I can only imagine the weight of that. But it's been quite some time since I secured a firm agreement at Gallipoli, and yet that promise still hasn't been fulfilled. I even offered to fund it myself if necessary, and still nothing has been executed. Isn't that clearly a matter of sincerity?"
"…As I mentioned earlier, there have simply been too many priorities to manage…"
"I understand. That's why I'm saying we begin now. But we can't afford delays, so I propose we convene a full session immediately—with all key personnel from headquarters present—so everyone can fully grasp the seriousness of the issue."
"…Is that really necessary…? Very well. We were going to hold a meeting soon to discuss future operations anyway. I'll set aside some time then."
No matter how unpleasant things got, I was, at least on paper, the Queen's representative—the supreme commander of the armed forces.
Even if they grumbled behind my back and called me a decorative figurehead, they still had to listen to what I had to say in public.
Besides, I had played a significant diplomatic role in this war—helping bring about the active participation of Japan and Joseon. They couldn't simply ignore me outright.
After parting ways with the two of them, I called for Florence Nightingale and John Snow.
As expected, both had already organized most of their data and were simply waiting for their moment.
The following day, I entered the joint Army–Navy command meeting with them in tow.
"We have completely secured the Black Sea," one officer reported. "Even the garrison on the Kinburn Peninsula has surrendered. There's no longer any need to worry about interference with the movement of supplies and troops."
"The landing at Kalamita Bay can also be considered a great success. Nearly all personnel and materiel have arrived. Now we must besiege Sevastopol, the key stronghold of Crimea. Once we take it, the entire Black Sea theater is effectively over."
The Army and Navy exchanged subtle barbs while proudly listing their achievements, continuing their discussion of future operations.
Though they differed in details, both sides agreed on one thing: Sevastopol had to fall.
Once the reports on recent engagements concluded, I judged the moment had come and spoke.
"I would like to commend our proud Army and Navy commanders for their valor in battle. Thanks to your excellent strategies and tactics, our forces now hold a favorable position. However, the medical staff present here believe they have a method to significantly enhance our combat effectiveness. I have granted them permission to present it before this council. I ask that you listen and judge its credibility for yourselves."
"So that's her—the Saint of the Lamp, I presume. Her effective containment of cholera certainly helped give momentum to our landing operation. It wouldn't hurt to hear her out."
Perhaps because her indirect contribution to the landing had been acknowledged, the atmosphere in the room wasn't particularly hostile.
Of course, there were still those who looked on with indifference, as if wondering whether she planned to cut down enemies with a scalpel—but none were foolish enough to voice it openly.
Florence glanced at me briefly.
I nodded, signaling she could proceed.
Taking a quiet breath, she laid her documents on the table.
"Professor John Snow and I have analyzed the causes of death among soldiers from previous campaigns up to the present. As this chart clearly shows, the majority of deaths are not from combat—but from disease."
Her signature presentation—the same one that had proven so effective during the cholera crisis.
As the officers looked at the rose-shaped chart of mortality causes, quiet sighs and clicks of the tongue spread through the room.
Even a fool could see how overwhelmingly dominant a single cause was.
"And among wounded soldiers, the mortality rate exceeds 40 percent. Sometimes higher, sometimes slightly lower, but it ultimately converges around that figure. In other words, our soldiers are losing their lives in vain—not in battle, but due to other causes."
"That may be true, but what can be done about it?"
"If it were only our army, it might be a problem—but France and Russia are likely no better."
"Yes. However, if the facility expansions I requested are properly implemented, we can dramatically reduce that mortality rate."
"…Dramatically, you say…?"
The officers reacted with skepticism, likely assuming a reduction of five percent at most.
This was where hard numbers mattered.
"Florence, when you spoke to me before, didn't you say that once all improvements are completed, the mortality rate could drop to around four to five percent within four months?"
"Yes. That level is achievable. This estimate is based on the proportion of soldiers with irrecoverable injuries, as well as comparative analysis with patients of similar conditions treated at Victoria Hospital."
Even that was a conservative estimate.
But it still meant reducing deaths to a tenth of their current level.
The room erupted in shock.
"No—wait… that would mean a tenfold reduction. Isn't that wildly unrealistic?"
"Whether it's unrealistic or not—we can verify it from this point forward. Tell me—since the cholera outbreak in London, has my medical team ever made empty claims?"
"…No, they haven't."
"Good. Then, Field Marshall FitzRoy, will you authorize Professor John Snow and Nurse Florence Nightingale to proceed as lead officers starting today? As I mentioned before, any costs exceeding the current medical and facility budgets will be covered entirely by the royal household. However, we cannot immediately recruit additional personnel, so I ask for the Army's support in the meantime."
"Very well. But if results are not forthcoming, we cannot afford to wait indefinitely."