Since returning from the Balkan Peninsula, the Crown Prince, newly bestowed with the title "Georg the Conqueror," carried an aura subtly different from before.
The changes a battlefield imparts on a person are sometimes far more drastic than a decade of court life.
Thus, at tonight's banquet, Crown Prince Georg was the most conspicuous figure under the spotlight.
Whomever he spoke to, whichever direction he took a few steps toward, dozens of gazes and hushed whispers inevitably followed.
And right now, as the Crown Prince wove through the crowd with a glass of champagne, heading straight for Morin, the corner that was already drawing considerable attention instantly attracted dozens more overt and covert scrutinizing stares.
"His Highness is seeking out Colonel Morin again..."
"I'm afraid those two getting together means they're going to stir something up again..."
"Wasn't it just like this before the Balkan campaign?"
The subjects of these discussions remained completely oblivious to the murmurs.
Morin, currently discussing the mass production preparations for the "Two-Seater Armored Knight" with Leonia, caught sight of Georg approaching from the corner of his eye.
Noticing the Crown Prince's approach, he and Leonia immediately turned sideways, brought their legs together, and prepared to salute.
Simultaneously, Cecilia released Morin's arm, lifting her skirt slightly to perform a traditional court curtsy.
However, Georg raised a hand before fully approaching, halting their actions.
"Alright, alright, everyone be at ease tonight... This isn't the General Staff headquarters or the palace. There's no need to be so tense and formal~"
The Crown Prince's tone was relaxed, his expression vastly different from his usual demeanor at military conferences.
His glass was half-full with champagne; it seemed he was truly here just to unwind tonight.
Stepping between the three, the Crown Prince first nodded in greeting to Cecilia and Leonia before focusing his attention on Morin.
"I wanted to come find you earlier, Sir Friedrich, but I was cornered by a few of the elders over there and couldn't get away... Have you been chatting for a while?"
Georg looked at Morin, then at Leonia.
"I saw from over there that the expressions on your faces were serious enough to rival a war council. Don't tell me you're discussing military affairs again?"
Morin and Leonia exchanged a glance, both smiling somewhat sheepishly.
Cecilia smoothly took over the conversation. "Your Highness truly understands them... They were discussing Armored Knights and tactics the whole time. I've been standing here unable to get a word in edgewise."
"Then I must apologize, Lady Falkenstein. I meant no offense."
Leonia smiled and apologized to Cecilia, then turned to Georg. "However, the discussion with Colonel Morin just now did indeed give me some new inspiration. But since it involves issues regarding the military budget, I'm afraid I'll have to negotiate with the Air Force."
Hearing this, Georg laughed, tilting his chin slightly toward the other side of the hall.
"Well, that works out perfectly... Lieutenant General Strasser, the Air Force Minister, and the Chief of the General Staff are both here tonight. Perhaps the Grand Master can seize this opportunity to 'pry' them open~"
Combining the Crown Prince's previous words, Leonia immediately caught the underlying meaning: the Crown Prince had private matters to discuss with Morin.
"Then I shall excuse myself first."
Leonia bowed to Crown Prince Georg and added, "While Lieutenant General Strasser and the others haven't had too much to drink, I'll go have a chat with him... The matter of armored airships truly needs careful planning."
With a nod to Cecilia, she strode purposefully toward the group of Air Force officials.
Cecilia needed no prompting either. She naturally took a half-step back from Morin's side and bowed her head to Crown Prince Georg.
"Your Highness, I haven't seen the Crown Princess in a long time, and she happens to be here tonight... I will go speak with her. Please, take your time with Friedrich~"
"Cecilie mentioned a couple of days ago that she wanted to chat with you, Lady Falkenstein. Please, go ahead," Georg nodded with a smile.
Before leaving, Cecilia's finger lightly traced the back of Morin's hand. The subtle gesture was so discreet that only Morin felt it—a silent code translating to "watch your words."
After both women departed, Crown Prince Georg finished his champagne, placed the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray, and led Morin to a secluded spot on the side of the reception hall, creating a relatively private space for conversation.
Then, he addressed Morin half-jokingly, "I say, Sir Friedrich... It's good to be dedicated to military affairs, but you must relax when it's time to relax. If your head is constantly full of Armored Knights and tactics, you'll end up interested in nothing but war."
Morin replied, "Rest assured, Your Highness, my life outside my duties is quite rich."
After briefly discussing the aftermath of the Balkan campaign, Crown Prince Georg's expression sobered slightly as he got to the main point.
"Sir Friedrich, I did seek you out tonight to give you a heads-up regarding a few matters using this occasion... Just so you are mentally prepared before the official orders come down."
Morin found this amusing. While he kept a straight face, he grumbled internally: You old European nobles sure are interesting, always discussing these matters at banquets~
Nevertheless, he adopted a posture of attentive listening, knowing full well that when a superior opened with "giving you a heads-up," the ensuing news was rarely a cause for celebration.
That phrase basically meant, "You might not like this, but the decision is already made."
The Crown Prince continued, "What I am about to say might prompt some thoughts... but please believe me, this is the best possible outcome after weighing all considerations."
The smile slowly faded from Morin's face. That opening was far too ominous.
To use an inappropriate metaphor, it felt a bit like "killing the donkey after the grinding is done."
Seeing the change in Morin's expression, a hint of apology surfaced on Georg's face, but he pressed on, "I'll be direct then... After deliberation, the Army Ministry and the General Staff intend to detach a group of military core personnel from the instruction unit—"
"Including mid-level officers and frontline NCOs, to serve in other main force units of the Imperial Army."
The instant those words dropped, the first thought that popped into Morin's head was: It's here. I knew this day would come...
Although he remained standing in place, his expression virtually unchanged, his mind was racing. Because, put simply, they were going to dismantle the core personnel meticulously cultivated by the instruction unit and scatter them among other units.
Crown Prince Georg observed his reaction. Seeing Morin remain silent, he continued explaining.
"The primary objective is to rapidly convert the experiences validated by the instruction unit on the battlefield into substantive combat power across the entire Imperial Army."
"Although Imperial infantry training has comprehensively adopted the new syllabus you authored, and the basic quality of the soldiers has visibly improved... the bottleneck lies with the officers and frontline NCOs. They are the ones falling behind."
Georg paused, clasping his hands in front of him before continuing, "These mid-to-lower-level commanders in the main force units haven't actually participated in the practical application of these new tactics. They can't learn them just by reading about them on paper..."
"Therefore, drawing a group of officers and NCOs who have personally engaged in actual combat from the instruction unit and sending them directly to the main force units is the fastest solution we can think of right now."
Georg summarized.
"Once these main force units complete their combat power upgrades, we can then draw another batch of mature core personnel to fill the ranks of lower-level units... trickling down layer by layer, ultimately elevating the overall standard. This was also one of the purposes behind establishing the instruction unit."
In truth, Morin wasn't surprised by this news; rather, he had anticipated this day would come.
Rationally speaking, this decision was entirely sound in military logic. Talent capable of truly grasping and flexibly applying new tactics is always a scarce resource.
In his original world, after Captain Rohr's first "Sturmbataillon" made a name for itself in 1916, the German Army General Staff also extracted core personnel from this unit and scattered them among the various armies on the Western Front.
Combined with a training system, the German Army rapidly replicated a massive number of Stormtrooper units across the entire army. By the Spring Offensive of 1918, nearly every division in the German Army had its own assault troops.
And many of those who were dispersed from that first "Sturmbataillon" climbed to exceptionally high positions later during the Weimar Reichswehr era.
In other words...
A somewhat "improper" thought popped into Morin's head.
If this continued according to the model Georg described, then in the foreseeable future, a massive contingent of officers with an "instruction unit background" would emerge among the mid-level officer corps within the Imperial Army.
During their service in the instruction unit, these individuals were trained under the system and combat doctrines formulated by Morin. Many had fought and bled alongside him. Due to the unique ethos of the instruction unit, they shared incredibly deep bonds of camaraderie.
When a portion of these individuals gradually matured into high-ranking officers, the landscape within the Imperial Army would become a very interesting and familiar scenario to Morin.
It would split into two major factions: the "Instruction Faction" and... everyone else.
Morin didn't let this prospect inflate his ego. After all, the prerequisite was that he, too, had to climb high enough within the Imperial Army step by step.
So right now, "Boss Morin" mostly felt a sense of impending "students all over the world" pride.
But he couldn't let this thought show, even if his life depended on it.
At the very least, he couldn't stand before the Crown Prince with an expression that screamed, "Fantastic! This is an incredible boon for me!"
If he did, someone would probably slip a damning report to the Army Ministry tomorrow.
Therefore, Morin, adept at "acting" before his superiors, presented an appearance of "somewhat reluctant internally, but choosing to submit to the greater good."
"Your Highness."
Morin brought his legs together, assuming a standard military posture.
"Since the Empire's high command has made this decision, they naturally have their considerations... I unconditionally submit to the arrangement."
He paused, then added "tentatively," "I only hope that these transferred officers and NCOs... receive appropriate room for promotion. They've fought alongside the instruction unit from the very beginning; their capabilities are beyond question."
This response was airtight. It expressed concern for his subordinates without betraying any dissatisfaction with the decision itself.
Hearing this, Georg's shoulders visibly relaxed.
He had indeed been somewhat worried about how Morin would react.
After all, anyone would resent seeing an elite unit they had poured so much effort into building dismantled immediately after a victorious campaign.
But looking at it now, Morin hadn't changed much compared to before; he remained a pure Imperial Army officer.
"Rest assured, Sir Friedrich... I guarantee you, the promotion channels for these elites will face no issues. Minister Falkenhayn and I will personally oversee it."
With that, Crown Prince Georg changed the subject, his tone becoming lighter.
"Moreover, this adjustment won't just be drawing personnel from you. It will also inject a massive influx of young officers into the instruction unit."
"The instruction unit will undergo a new round of expansion, growing from its current reinforced regiment size into a heavily reinforced brigade-level unit."
Morin's eyebrows finally twitched. This news was somewhat unexpected, but the Crown Prince continued.
"Aside from troop expansion, the Army high command will also fully support your proposal to establish the 'Armored Cavalry Instruction Regiment'."
"The Army will coordinate with the Teutonic Order to transfer more Armored Knights to you, and the Air Force will cooperate by allocating long-term armored airship support to the instruction unit."
"Your status as the ace unit of the Imperial Army remains unshakable."
After finishing, Georg looked at Morin, who still appeared unfazed by favor or disgrace, and couldn't help but sigh internally.
When they first met, this young man was merely a second lieutenant fresh out of the academy. Yet the colonel standing before him now—at least on the surface—fully possessed the steady composure and depth expected of a high-ranking officer.
"Sir Friedrich, if you have any other thoughts, speak them now... The official documents haven't been issued yet; I can still tweak some details."
"I have none, Your Highness," Morin shook his head. "This arrangement is very reasonable."
Georg nodded in satisfaction. A rather subtle expression surfaced on his face before he dropped another piece of news.
"The other matter concerns you personally... Following discussions, the Army Ministry high command has essentially finalized your promotion proposal."
Morin remained silent, waiting for the other party to state the specific rank.
"Major General of the Army."
When this rank left the Crown Prince's lips, his tone was quite flat, but Morin was still slightly surprised.
A 23-year-old Major General of the Army.
Even under a system of "rapid wartime promotions," having a general's star pinned to one's epaulets at this age was unprecedented.
The only younger general Morin could think of was Huo Qubing, the God of War from the Western Han Dynasty... who was bestowed the title "Piaoyao Commandant" (a rank akin to a general in later eras) by Emperor Wu of Han at the age of 18.
If he had to find a comparison in a modern military system, it would be the Golden Genera of the Land of Light... who was appointed General of the Army of the Land of Light at the age of 27. ¹
But within the Saxon Imperial Army system, which placed extreme emphasis on seniority and rank-and-file progression, Morin's light-speed promotion could absolutely be described as "violating ancestral laws."
But Morin quickly adjusted his emotions. Or rather, he felt it wasn't excessive; he entirely deserved this general's star.
He had led the instruction unit from the Western Front to southeastern Europe, participating in over a dozen battles of varying sizes from start to finish, directly influencing the outcomes of numerous campaigns.
Coupled with his personal contributions as the Imperial Army's sole frontline spellcaster, this promotion, frankly, wasn't excessive at all.
However, even so, under the Saxon Empire's system, military merit alone wasn't enough. Just like when Morin was promoted to Major, there were numerous voices of opposition.
Although those voices subsequently "disappeared."
Without the staunch support of the royal family and the forceful push from the Army high command, those deeply entrenched "Old Junkers" had a hundred ways to drag the promotion proposal out until the end of time.
"Of course, there is resistance~ After all, for those who spent twenty or thirty years toiling in the Army just to touch a general's star, seeing a 23-year-old Major General appear in the ranks... is somewhat hard to accept."
Georg added, confirming Morin's speculation.
"However, with His Majesty personally overseeing the matter, it should pass smoothly, overriding all objections."
Morin reined in his momentary surprise, bringing his expression management back on track. He even managed a mild joke.
"It seems His Majesty and Your Highness intend to roast me over an open fire."
Georg chuckled at the remark, but the smile quickly vanished.
"Speaking of which... there was another incident when discussing your appointment."
"Oh?"
"The initial proposal put forward by some wasn't to expand the instruction unit and let you continue leading troops... but rather to have you serve as the principal of a newly established 'Imperial Special Operations Academy,' completely removing you from frontline combat units."
When Georg said this, his voice was very low, but every word was exceptionally clear.
"Completely withdraw from frontline combat units and transition to teaching."
Morin's face instantly smoothed into absolute calm.
This was certainly not good news...
A 23-year-old academy principal sounded glamorous, but in reality, it meant being severed from the front lines forever.
When the war ended, one could only imagine how far a young general with no accumulated practical combat command experience could go in the subsequent military hierarchy...
Georg caught the flash of abnormality on Morin's face and waved a hand.
"Don't overthink it... Not only did Field Marshal Moltke the Younger directly veto this proposal, but Minister Falkenhayn also transferred the senior officers who proposed it out of their original posts."
"What were Field Marshal Moltke the Younger's exact words again..."
The Crown Prince paused, recalling the memory, then continued, "Ah, right... 'Anyone who proposes returning the sharpest sword to its scabbard while the Empire is fighting a multi-front war is either incurably stupid or harbors ulterior motives!'"
Having said that, Georg tilted his head slightly, glancing toward where Moltke the Younger stood.
Morin couldn't help but follow his gaze.
On the other side of the hall, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff stood with his hands behind his back, speaking with several officers, looking as stern and rigid as ever.
"Don't be fooled by the fact that Field Marshal Moltke the Younger rarely expresses an opinion in front of you; he pays far more attention to you and the instruction unit than you imagine..."
Georg stepped up to Morin and affectionately patted his shoulder. This was a gesture he rarely made, and doing it in public clearly conveyed a stance.
"It merely involved some ideological differences among the Empire's high command. Ultimately, we adopted the plan I just described... expansion and personnel transfer, rather than removing you from the front lines."
Morin digested this information, then replied half-jokingly, "It seems someone in the Empire's high command feels my 'sword' has grown a bit too sharp and wants to fit me with a scabbard?"
Georg sighed, his expression tinged with helplessness.
"Sir Friedrich... To be frank, neither I nor my father wishes for the internal factional disputes of the Empire to spill over onto frontline generals, but some people simply cannot control their hands."
He turned to look at Morin, his tone complex.
"You performed too well in the Balkans—so well that it made certain people uncomfortable..."
Morin nodded, indicating he understood the Crown Prince's meaning, but said no more.
At least based on the outcome, the tightness of this "scabbard" was still within acceptable limits.
While drawing core personnel would weaken the instruction unit's combat effectiveness in the short term, the compensation of fresh blood and expansion was generous enough.
Nor did he intend to offer any further commentary on the Empire's internal political struggles in such a setting—even with the Crown Prince, who trusted him deeply, standing before him.
Some things simply shouldn't be said when they shouldn't be said.
And Georg had no intention of delving deeper into the topic either. He switched to a slightly lighter tone: "Alright, enough of these mood-killing matters... There's one final arrangement I need to brief you on in advance."
Morin instantly went on high alert.
He had already been hit twice tonight by Georg's "just one more thing" conversational rhythm, and now reflexively entered a defensive state.
"Once the expanded instruction unit completes its reorganization and training... it's highly likely you will need to lead them to the Eastern Front."
Compared to the previous news, this was even more surprising to Morin.
He had previously speculated that the instruction unit might return to the Western Front to join a potential counter-offensive. After all, in his view, the Eastern Front, commanded by the "Lu-Bo Duo," shouldn't face any major issues.
"Your Highness, the current situation on the Eastern Front—"
"Just check the combat briefings when it's officially finalized. We won't go into detail tonight."
Georg cut off his inquiry, donning his relaxed smile again, and raised his glass in greeting to an old noble looking their way.
"I'm just giving you a heads-up."
"...Understood."
Georg patted his shoulder again. "Alright, business is over... Let's go. We should enjoy the banquet; we didn't have this luxury in the Balkan Peninsula."
Morin followed Georg's footsteps toward the Crown Princess and Cecilia, but his mind had already drifted to the frozen wastes of the East, and several faces he had seen in the Kingdom of Araya inevitably surfaced in his memory.
Deep in thought, Moltke the Younger happened to turn half around.
The two men's eyes met for a fleeting moment through the gaps in the crowd. The Chief of the Imperial Army General Staff gave Morin a slight nod before turning back to continue his conversation with the officers beside him.
The Eastern Front... It seems this wasn't just the Crown Prince's idea.
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