Trenches, Guns, and Magic

Following Georg through the crowd, Morin's mind was already churning through all his known information regarding the Eastern Front.

To be honest, having focused most of his energy on the Balkan Peninsula over the past few months, his attention to the Eastern Front had indeed been lacking.

The intelligence he had gathered amounted to little more than fragments unlocked through the 【Intelligence】 system while occasionally browsing the Army's internal periodic combat reports.

When the "Lu-Bo Duo" led their troops to the front to rendezvous with the forces of the Western Rus Provisional National Government, the vanguard of the "White Army" had actually already pushed into Western Rus territory.

Although a group of International Brigades veterans returning from the Aragonese Civil War threw themselves into the fray—and these men were certainly fierce enough to catch the White Army off guard initially...

The problem was that no matter how strong the International Brigades were, they were just experienced veterans. On the battlefield, they bled and died like anyone else; they couldn't fight a hundred men alone.

Once the forces of Kolchak and Denikin merged, the military aid provided by the Britannians and the Gauls (who had not yet surrendered at the time) began flowing endlessly into the White Army camp. The massive disparity in troop numbers on paper finally reflected on the actual battlefield.

In particular, the Armored Knights and a batch of supernatural units of unknown origin in the White Army's hands caused the Western Rus side to suffer significant losses.

Even though Andrei and the others from the International Brigades had brought back advanced anti-armor techniques from Sevres...

Due to their failure to secure the Armored Knight units when the Great Rus Empire collapsed, the Western Rus Provisional National Government had no platforms capable of utilizing shaped-charge armor-piercing weapons.

And on the vast plains of the Eastern Front, attempting anti-armor gymnastics with mere human bodies was obviously unfeasible... Therefore, aside from two unlucky bastards who got ambushed, the White Army suffered no Armored Knight losses.

This was also why the Saxon Empire, upon freeing up its hands, immediately decided to dispatch reinforcements to the Eastern Front...

...If they didn't provide direct military assistance, the massive White Army might push all the way to Eastern Saxony.

The arrival of Hindenburg and Ludendorff with their troops indeed stabilized the situation.

Relying on the command abilities of these two and the combat proficiency of the Saxon army, they managed to win several medium-scale engagements consecutively, annihilating a significant portion of the White Army's effective strength and pushing the front line back.

But now, the Crown Prince specifically bringing it up, with Field Marshal Moltke the Younger's explicit support... indicated that the situation on the Eastern Front might not be as optimistic as the combat reports suggested.

Morin knew very well that the Empire's high command wouldn't specifically deploy an ace unit fresh from the Balkans to a front where the situation was highly favorable.

It could only mean either the "Lu-Bo Duo" were still stretched thin on manpower and needed the instruction unit as a sharp knife to tear open a breach;

Or, a threat had emerged on the Eastern Front that conventional forces couldn't resolve, requiring him, the "Mage Killer," to handle it personally.

Whichever it was, he certainly wasn't going on a vacation.

Unfortunately, no further information was available at the moment, so he could only wait for a specific briefing from the General Staff.

Despite knowing he couldn't refuse the deployment to the Eastern Front, Morin was actually looking forward to it.

After all, there were acquaintances over there who were relatively closer to him ideologically. Their brief time together in the Kingdom of Aragon had left a deep impression on him.

Moreover, since he was already here and had achieved some measure of success... he'd feel a bit regretful if he didn't stick his nose into the "Red vs. White Civil War."

But as he thought about it, Morin realized something was wrong.

He suddenly realized it was almost late July. In two months' time, the Eastern European Plain would enter the rasputitsa—the mud season.

Twice a year on the Eastern European Plain, during spring and autumn, heavy rainfall combined with the alternating freezing and thawing of the ground turned all unpaved roads into quagmires.

If the instruction unit needed at least a month to a month and a half to complete their expansion and training before shipping out, they would arrive at the Eastern Front sometime around late September or early October...

Morin's steps faltered for a moment before returning to a normal rhythm.

What did the rasputitsa on the Eastern European Plain mean? Infantry boots would be sucked into the mud every two steps. The mobility of radiant crystal trucks and half-tracks would be halved. Logistical supply lines would become incredibly long and fragile.

Let alone those Armored Knights with a combat weight of over eighteen tons...

Morin could even picture it: a towering steel giant takes two steps, its legs sinking knee-deep into the muck, struggling awkwardly.

Maybe Ludwig could even publish an autobiography then, titled Siegfried in the Mud...

This is bad. Looking at it this way, it's not a good assignment at all... I wonder if we can do some preparatory work in advance...

These thoughts flashed through Morin's mind, but Georg ahead of him turned to glance back, forcing him to suppress them for now and quicken his pace to catch up.

Crown Princess Cecilie and Cecilia were sitting by a set of sofas near the window of the reception hall, chatting idly.

Seeing the two men approach, Cecilie stood up proactively. After exchanging a look with Georg, she smiled and nodded at Morin.

"Lady Falkenstein and I haven't seen each other in so long; I'm almost reluctant to let you take her back."

The Crown Princess had always been gentle and affable, her temperament perfectly complementing Georg's.

And the latter currently didn't seem to engage in the frequent philandering of his alternate-timeline counterpart, Crown Prince Wilhelm; their marital relationship was quite harmonious.

For the next half hour or so, the four chatted about inconsequential topics.

Georg didn't bring up military affairs again, acting as if he had laid down all his burdens, occasionally recounting amusing anecdotes to liven the atmosphere.

Morin laughed politely a few times, but a portion of his attention remained tethered to his surroundings.

Because he constantly felt like someone was watching him...

After Georg and Cecilie departed, the banquet entered its more relaxed latter half.

Some guests, faces flushed with alcohol, began more private socializing, while others gathered in twos and threes in corners for hushed conversations.

Among these people, the gazes of several middle-aged men drifted intentionally or otherwise toward Morin, even showing signs of wanting to approach him.

However, because colleagues from the Army constantly sought Morin out for conversation, these individuals made no move.

When Cecilia pressed the back of his hand to indicate she was tired, Morin took the opportunity to bid the surrounding people farewell. The two left the reception hall, one behind the other.

The moment they pushed open the mansion's doors, the night breeze, carrying the scent of the garden's flora, rushed to meet them.

Morin took a deep breath, feeling as if his lungs had been flushed clean.

"Phew—"

Although the reception hall they had spent the whole night in was ornately decorated, residences of this era lacked ventilation or air purification systems. With banquet guests gathered in an enclosed hall all night, the air—mixed with the scents of perfume, tobacco, alcohol, and body odor—was indeed rather stale.

Seeing his exaggerated reaction, Cecilia covered her mouth with her hand and chuckled twice.

The two walked side by side toward where the car was parked. The garden was dimly lit at night, and they occasionally spotted silhouettes of couples heading deeper into the garden, whispering intimacies.

The occasional giggles sounded provocative in the night.

"What are they going to do?"

Morin turned his head to look at Cecilia, his face the picture of "thirst for knowledge."

"..."

Cecilia froze for a moment before a blush rapidly crept up her face.

"How should I know..."

But halfway through her sentence, she realized this guy's expression clearly showed he was teasing her on purpose. With Morin's "glorious track record," how could he not know what was happening?

"You little rascal!"

Cecilia pulled her hand free and punched Morin's arm several times. The force was neither light nor heavy, more like venting some sort of flustered annoyance.

Morin took the hits with a smile, then naturally took her hand again.

"Let's go. Luna is waiting up ahead."

Luna opened the car door from the outside. The head maid's expression remained as steady as ever. Seeing the two walk over holding hands, she merely stepped aside to clear the way without saying a word.

After the radiant crystal sedan started up again, the cabin was quiet for a while before Cecilia broke the silence.

"You seem a bit different emotionally after your chat with His Highness... Fritz, is everything alright?"

Hearing her words, Morin chose his words carefully, picking a few shareable key points to tell her.

Mainly about the instruction unit detaching core personnel and expanding. As for his promotion and the deployment to the Eastern Front—matters not yet fully finalized and somewhat sensitive—he withheld them for now.

Cecilia said nothing more, merely leaning closer to him. She knew Morin could handle military-related matters well, and there was little she could do to intervene anyway.

Soon, the only sounds left in the cabin were the faint hum of the radiant crystal engine and the rustle of tires rolling over the road.

It was nearing midnight when they returned to the estate.

Morin had planned to head straight to his room, but hadn't taken two steps before Cecilia tugged at his cuff.

"Come back to my room with me..."

"?"

"Just to make sure you don't have too much excess energy and go out philandering."

"But I'm afraid you'll be the one surrendering first~"

"...Who's afraid of whom!"

Early the next morning.

Morin woke up just as dawn was breaking.

This was a biological clock honed by a long military career. No matter how late he slept the night before, his body automatically woke him when the time came.

Beside him, Cecilia was still fast asleep, her honey and pale blonde hair spread across the pillow, her breathing even.

Last night's battle ultimately ended with Cecilia begging for mercy.

Morin turned sideways, kissed her gently on the forehead, then got up and left the bedroom as quietly as possible.

After returning to his room, quickly washing up, and changing into a clean officer's service uniform, Morin headed down the stairs to the first floor.

A young maid already waiting there handed him an oil-paper-wrapped sandwich with both hands.

"Good morning, Young Master~"

"Thank you."

Morin smiled, taking the sandwich as he walked toward the door. As he pushed it open, a staff car assigned to the instruction unit was already parked on the estate's gravel driveway, its engine idling.

Seeing him emerge, the orderly in the front passenger seat quickly hopped out and opened the rear door.

Morin paused just before getting in. He recalled the issue that had been circling in his mind during the latter half of the banquet last night.

The rasputitsa on the Eastern European Plain.

Clearly, the mobility of both the instruction unit and other forces would be severely compromised during the mud season. If they didn't solve these problems in advance, it would be too late to figure it out once they reached the Eastern Front.

He could think of a few solutions; after all, both the Soviets and the Germans had fought during the rasputitsa in WWII, summarizing plenty of experience he could draw upon.

But this needed to be initiated as soon as possible.

Morin turned his head. Luna stood at the entrance maintaining a standard standby posture, followed by two maids responsible for the estate's daily affairs.

"Ms. Luna."

"Yes, Young Master Morin."

"Contact Demag's R&D team for me. Ask if they can send someone to the instruction unit's garrison today."

Morin paused, then continued, "Tell them it's about improving the passability of half-tracks under extreme ground conditions. It's urgent."

Luna didn't ask further questions, nodding crisply.

"Understood. I will contact their person in charge within the hour."

"Thank you."

Morin got into the car. The orderly closed the door and jogged to the front seat. The staff car's radiant crystal engine revved, driving down the estate's driveway, out the gates, and merging onto the main road toward the garrison.

Morin leaned back against the seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee.

The half-track issue was only one link in the chain. The true conundrum was the mobility of Armored Knights on muddy terrain. But that couldn't be solved quickly; he had to discuss it with the Teutonic Order.

Then there was the problem of forwarding ammunition and fuel. During the rasputitsa, traditional heavy wagons and standard trucks were basically useless. They needed enough fully tracked or half-tracked vehicles to sustain the supply lines.

Beyond that, there was the specific strength of the "White Army"...

In Morin's memory, the combat effectiveness of Kolchak's forces in his original world wasn't actually that strong.

But he didn't know what "patches" this world had applied to him, or if a qualitative change had occurred after merging with Denikin, causing the "White Army's" combat effectiveness in this world to surge drastically.

Add to that the support of Armored Knights and supernatural units, and if the Western Rus Provisional National Government lacked counterbalancing forces... to be honest, Morin thought it was a miracle they had held out this long.

After all, judging from the combat effectiveness displayed by the International Brigades during the Aragonese Civil War, they were still a traditional infantry force lacking supernatural enhancements.

This also made Morin feel that the combat intensity on the Eastern Front might not be low at all, and it was highly likely to be a grueling fight due to the stacking of numerous "debuffs."

After all, once the autumn mud season passed, the invasion of "General Winter" would immediately follow.

And in the history Morin knew intimately, anyone daring to attack the Russians at this time of year ultimately reaped only defeat...

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!