Trenches, Guns, and Magic

Chapter 379: The Hard-to-Hold-Back Empire

Captain Mayr and the others from the Ministry of War’s Propaganda Department ultimately left clutching that notebook as if they had found a precious treasure.

The ideas Morin had just eloquently proposed were highly novel to these propaganda officers.

Moreover, they found that Morin had practically written the entire script for them. They only needed to tweak the details and dialogue themselves before putting it to use.

This also made these propaganda officers look at Morin with even more admiration.

Morin naturally wouldn’t tell them that the recruitment ad he saw in the other world was essentially just a script too.

The soldiers in it didn’t even have magazines inserted in their rifles, just acting pretentiously there. freewebnσvel.cøm

But even so, the effect of that "recruitment ad" was extremely good, short but deeply memorable...

After bidding farewell to these officers, Morin originally wanted to find Minister of War Falkenhayn to "build relationships."

But upon arriving at the door of his office, he learned that the Minister of War seemed to have gone to seek an audience with the Emperor this afternoon, so he had to drop the idea.

"It seems everyone is very busy..."

Morin shrugged helplessly. Waiting until Manstein finished handling the cumbersome logistics procedures, the two drove back to the Army General Staff.

There was still some time before the evening dinner party, so Morin was arranged to wait in a lounge next to the Chief of the General Staff’s office.

The room was very quiet, with only the wall clock making a monotonous "tick-tock" sound.

Morin poured himself a glass of water, leaned back on the soft leather sofa, and his thoughts gradually drifted away with the monotonous sound.

During this time, he had been fighting life-and-death battles on the front line, and even while hospitalized with injuries, he was pondering new weapons and tactics. He rarely had time to calm down and think about other things like he was doing now.

Although Moltke the Younger, this Chief of the Imperial Army General Staff, could only be said to have an average reputation in the other world.

But getting along with him so far, Morin found that this person was relatively easy to talk to after getting slightly more familiar.

And perhaps it was because the "Schlieffen Plan" was successfully implemented, the pressure on Moltke the Younger was much less.

Emperor Albert II did not frantically scold Moltke the Younger every day and put pressure on him like Wilhelm II in the other world.

This also meant that the complex-natured and sensitive Moltke the Younger was not scolded into depression by his "boss."

At least so far, Morin felt that this 68-year-old Chief of the Imperial General Staff was still considered a normal person.

Whether in terms of mental or physical state, there were no major problems, completely not looking like someone who would pass away in a year.

Since his thoughts reached here, he had to mention Albert II sitting on the throne.

Unlike Wilhelm II in the other world, whose left arm was disabled due to a medical accident at birth, resulting in a personality that became sensitive, conceited, and extremely eager to prove himself.

Albert II in this world was a physically and mentally sound person.

Without the psychological shadow brought by physical disability, and without being tortured by those near-abusive corrective devices.

So his childhood was obviously much more normal, and he did not reach the point of breaking with his extremely controlling parents.

Furthermore, although his father, August III, also married the daughter of the "Grandmother of Europe," Queen Victoria, he was not completely assimilated by his wife’s liberal ideas like Frederick III.

The reason for this, Morin believed, should be that the Britannia Empire in this world was not as full of liberalism as imagined.

Or rather, under the rule of the "Eternal Queen," it presented more of a "strongman politics" style.

Therefore, the "von Wettin" family extending to this period, from grandfather to grandson, all three generations were staunch conservatives.

Albert II also did not receive different education from both the left and right wings simultaneously, spoiling his brain like Wilhelm II in the other world... but only received the most orthodox Saxon militarized monarch education.

This led to the personality of His Majesty the Emperor of the current Saxon Empire not being so split. As a monarch, his governing ability and emotional stability were much stronger than Wilhelm II’s.

At least he wouldn’t suddenly make outrageous statements like Wilhelm II, making the people in the Imperial Foreign Office constantly clean up his mess every day.

"But this doesn’t mean this Empire is as stable as Mount Tai..."

Morin looked at the gradually darkening sky outside the window, sighing inwardly.

Because regarding the classic statement "Saxony needs its place in the sun," Albert II certainly didn’t miss it~

Although this Emperor was somewhat of a normal person, he still harbored the ambition to dominate "Weltpolitik" (World Policy) and make the Saxon Empire a global hegemon.

On this point, he and Wilhelm II were simply cut from the same cloth.

Fortunately, he was still clear-headed and knew his own weight.

So in the early days of his succession, he still let the old Chancellor Bismarck preside over the overall situation, playing an exquisite balancing act among the major powers.

But the will of heaven in the dark seemed destined to ignite the flames of war on this continent.

In the second year of Albert II’s succession, Bismarck, known as the "Iron Chancellor," died of illness.

Having lost this helmsman capable of suppressing all kinds of monsters and demons, the giant ship of the Saxon Empire inevitably sailed toward stormy waves.

Under these circumstances, Albert II could only begin to take the helm personally...

And unsurprisingly, the result was a rapid deterioration in relations with the Gallic Republic and the Holy Britannia Empire.

Under these circumstances, Albert II also once again showed his difference from Wilhelm II.

He knew very well that the Saxon Empire could not only have the Austro-Hungarian Empire, this useless ally, in Europa, and could no longer continue making enemies on all sides.

So he turned his gaze to the East, to his cousin, Tsar Nicholas II of the Great Rus Empire.

The mother of the Saxon Emperor Albert II was Victoria, Princess Royal.

And the wife of Tsar Nicholas II was the third daughter of Princess Alice of the United Kingdom. (Note: The author seems to be tweaking historical relationships here. Historically, Nicholas II’s wife, Alexandra Feodorovna, was the daughter of Princess Alice, who was Queen Victoria’s second daughter.)

So in terms of seniority, Albert II could indeed be called Nicholas II’s cousin.

In the other normal timeline, these two also had a cousin, and that was Queen Victoria’s grandson, George V, who was the King of the UK during WWI.

But in this world, Victoria became the "Eternal Queen," so naturally, her sons and grandsons had nothing to do.

Oh my, the relationships in old Europe were just so close and chaotic, WWI could also be considered a bunch of relatives fighting a civil war...

It’s just that the wheel of history in this world currently was no longer turning at its normal speed at this time.

Just as the Saxon Empire managed with great difficulty to mediate the conflict between the Great Rus Empire and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, forging a "secret offensive and defensive alliance" among the three parties...

Bad news came from the feudal imperialist circle.

The Great Rus Empire unexpectedly collapsed early.

A "February Revolution" occurring in 1911 directly ended the rule of the Romanov Dynasty.

The family of Tsar Nicholas II didn’t even wait until October; after a brief public trial, they were sent directly to the gallows.

Although it was slightly better than being escorted underground, riddled with machine gun fire, and having their bones crushed to ashes, the people were still gone.

And the various factions in Rus, which failed to reach a complete consensus, directly erupted into civil war across the vast territory...

That "Gendarme of Europa" that once made all of Europa tremble instantly turned into a puddle of mud.

This also resulted in the Saxon Empire losing an ally that, although backward, possessed immense volume.

As for the remaining Austro-Hungarian Empire...

Morin rubbed his temples. This thing hadn’t fallen apart yet purely because the external pressure was too great, and the various nationalities inside hadn’t had time to backstab each other.

It was already good enough if it didn’t drag the Saxon Empire down.

And within the Saxon Empire, the situation wasn’t much better either.

This country, which didn’t look like a monolithic block, had long been surging with undercurrents internally. Its "political spectrum" could be said to go from left to right, colorful, with each showing their special prowess.

The power of the left-wing Social Democrats was continuously growing. They banged on tables in parliament and organized strikes in factories.

They demanded more rights, demanding an end to the situation where Junker nobles controlled everything.

And acting as the centrists was the "Imperial Mage Association," which mastered extraordinary power and magitech.

Of course, the right-wing traditional Junker nobles were also indispensable.

These Junker landlords entrenched east of the Elbe River, and those nobles holding high positions in the army and the court, guarded their privileges fiercely, not yielding an inch.

In fact, the Junker nobles were also internally split into two factions.

One faction consisted of "Military Junkers" like Mackensen, Moltke the Younger, and Hindenburg. These major landowners controlled the army and theoretically should be the Emperor’s most solid backing.

The other faction was the "Court Junkers" who controlled government institutions and emerging capital. They cared more about political influence, profit margins, and markets.

Madame Cecilia and the family behind her, from a certain perspective, belonged to the "Court Junkers."

Looking at it this way, Morin’s identity was relatively complex.

He was a newly emerged military noble who appeared out of nowhere, favored by "Military Junkers" like Mackensen and Moltke the Younger, while also being appreciated by the royal family and very close to His Highness the Crown Prince.

In addition, he had a very close relationship with Cecilia, who was a "Court Junker."

Finally, he was also a spellcaster. After the incident at the Paris underground research institute, the Imperial mages, acting as the "centrists," also began to pay attention to this young lieutenant colonel.

Um, in the eyes of others in the Empire, Morin’s political spectrum should be in a "center-right" position.

But what they didn’t know was that the long-term education he received before transmigrating also gave Morin a slightly left-leaning heart.

He was ultimately torturing himself, it really was...

After the death of the Iron Chancellor Bismarck, losing the suppression of this strongman, the contradictions between these forces within the Saxon Empire began to gradually intensify.

And the method used by Emperor Albert II to divert domestic contradictions was also a very classic and effective one: "introducing external contradictions."

Colonial conflicts in North Africa, intervening in the Aragonese war of succession, and semi-publicly supporting the "International Brigades" were all ways he was releasing pressure from the "pressure cooker" that was the Saxon Empire.

Especially the move of supporting the "International Brigades" to intervene in the Aragonese civil war.

In Morin’s view, although it couldn’t be considered brilliant, it could also be said to be the highlight of some people’s lives...

It disgusted the Britannians and also built a good relationship with the newly established "Western Rus Provisional National Government"—the latter’s controlled area was also the main grain-producing area in western Rus.

This also enabled the Saxon Empire to import a large amount of grain at very favorable prices, suppressing the soaring domestic grain prices, and temporarily placating the restless lower-class populace.

The approach of supporting the "International Brigades" also made those left-wing political parties shut up temporarily.

It’s just that Albert II was, after all, not a peerless genius like Bismarck.

He couldn’t untangle the contradictions and demands of various forces like the Iron Chancellor, nor was his vision far-reaching enough to make long-term plans.

His method of introducing imported grain to regulate prices obviously touched the interests of the Junker landlord masters...

The Junker masters suddenly found that the grain hoarded in their hands could no longer fetch a high price, so naturally, they were somewhat dissatisfied with the Emperor.

As the martial backing of the Emperor, this approach that touched the "fundamental base" of the Junker masters was obviously somewhat inappropriate.

Just as this complex "political spectrum bomb" inside the Saxon Empire was about to explode, and the Emperor himself could not stop it...

Bad news came from the feudal imperialist circle again.

Archduke Ferdinand was blown up by a Fireball in Sarajevo.

Immediately after, this war that swept across the entire Europa broke out.

With the issuance of the general mobilization order, the military officially took over the country. No matter what position you held on the "political spectrum," it was useless at this moment.

Or rather, this war forcefully united all Saxons together.

And all decisions of the Imperial Parliament had to prioritize serving this war...

This was the Saxon Empire, a bomb whose explosion was delayed because of the world war.

Once external contradictions disappeared, this bomb could be detonated at any time.

Just as Morin’s mind was racing with myriad thoughts, the door to the lounge was knocked gently.

An adjutant wearing a staff uniform walked in and said politely: "Lieutenant Colonel Morin, His Excellency the Chief of the General Staff has finished dealing with official business. The car is ready downstairs."

Morin withdrew his thoughts, stood up, and straightened his uniform: "Alright, I’ll be right there."

In the car heading to the restaurant, Moltke the Younger seemed to notice Morin’s silence, but he didn’t ask much, just like an elder, earnestly exhorted a few sentences.

"When we meet Grand Admiral Tirpitz later, remember to maintain humility."

Moltke the Younger looked at the fleeting street scenes outside the window and said slowly:

"That old man is a very proud person, and also a very pure person... In his eyes, there are only two kinds of people: those who understand sea power, and those who don’t."

"If you can make him feel that you have real stuff in your belly, he will look at you in a new light; but if you are just full of empty talk, he will unceremoniously kick you out."

Morin nodded: "I understand, Your Excellency the Chief. I originally didn’t plan to point fingers at the Navy’s affairs. I’m just an Army Lieutenant Colonel..."

"No, you are not just an Army Lieutenant Colonel."

Moltke the Younger turned his head and gave Morin a deep look.

"Bringing you along tonight is not just for a meal..."

Morin’s heart stirred. It seemed that although tonight’s meal was a spur-of-the-moment decision by Moltke the Younger, it also didn’t seem simple.

The "Golden Lion" restaurant was located in a Baroque-style building in the center of Dresden.

Although the war had been ongoing for over half a year, and frontline material supplies were not as abundant as when the war just started.

But this did not affect the senior officers and dignitaries in the rear enjoying a moment of peace and luxury here.

In the eyes of those in high positions, this was also a kind of political correctness—if even the generals of the Empire couldn’t eat meat, the public’s panic would probably spiral out of control instantly.

However, compared to the Second Reich in another timeline, the situation faced by the Saxon Empire in this world was actually relatively better.

After capturing large swathes of the Gallic Republic’s territory in September last year, the Imperial authorities organized a large number of civilians to go to northern Gaul for rushed harvesting. At the same time, they emptied almost all the large warehouses in northern Gaul.

It could be said they severely recovered a wave of blood from the Gallic Republic...

Morin followed Moltke the Younger through the lobby decorated with giant crystal chandeliers. Waiters bowed respectfully, obviously no strangers to this Chief of the Army General Staff.

Walking to a private room at the end of the corridor, the waiter pushed open the heavy oak door. A warm breeze mixed with the aromas of cigars, red wine, and roast meat hit their faces.

The private room was large, with oil paintings depicting sailing ship naval battles hanging on the walls. In the middle was a long table covered with a pristine white tablecloth.

At this time, three people were already sitting at the table, all in military attire.

Sitting on the left of the main seat was exactly the Minister of War, Falkenhayn.

Holding a glass of red wine, he smiled and nodded upon seeing Morin and Moltke the Younger enter.

Opposite Falkenhayn sat an old man who appeared exceptionally burly even while seated.

He wore a deep blue Grand Admiral uniform, his chest covered in medals.

The most striking feature was his iconic, massive white beard parted in the middle, looking like an inverted fork.

Those profound eyes hidden beneath thick eyebrows flashed with sharp light, as if able to see through all disguises.

Alfred von Tirpitz, the "Father of the High Seas Fleet," the symbol of the Imperial Navy.

And sitting beside Tirpitz was a relatively younger lieutenant general.

He was thin, his eyes lively, and his collar tabs bore a unique winged emblem—that was the insignia of the Imperial Air Force.

"Apologies for keeping you all waiting," Moltke the Younger said while leading Morin inside.

"We also just arrived not long ago."

Falkenhayn said with a smile, then looked at Morin beside Moltke the Younger.

"How is it, is our ’Imperial Combat Hero’ recovering well?"

"Your Excellency the Minister, I have completely recovered." Morin stood at attention and saluted, answering neither haughtily nor humbly.

"Alright, this is a dining table, not a parade ground."

Moltke the Younger patted Morin’s shoulder, signaling him to take a seat, then looked at that heavily bearded Grand Admiral and said:

"Lieutenant Colonel Morin, I don’t think I need to introduce him much, right? This is His Excellency Grand Admiral Tirpitz."

Morin turned to Tirpitz, stood up, and gave a standard military salute again: "Your Excellency Grand Admiral, I have long looked forward to meeting you."

Tirpitz put down the cigar in his hand. Those falcon-like eyes swept over Morin, his voice low but penetrating, like a foghorn sounding over the sea:

"So this is the young man who caused a series of commotions on the Western Front? Doesn’t look like someone who would use an armored airship as a ’bayonet’; looks more like an academy cadet who just graduated..."

"You can’t judge a book by its cover, Grand Admiral."

The Air Force lieutenant general beside him interjected. His eyes were full of undisguised admiration as he looked at Morin.

"Lieutenant Colonel Morin, I am Peter Strasser, currently responsible for the affairs of the Imperial Armored Airship Force and Reconnaissance Aircraft Force."

"I have read the report on the ’Air-Land Integrated Assault’ submitted by Colonel Schneider, the captain of the L29 armored airship. Especially the concept regarding using airships for vertical strikes and aerial command... It’s simply wonderful! This completely opened up our thinking!"

Morin smiled modestly:

"That time at the Liège Fortress was an act of desperation in an emergency, General... The airship is too large a target. If there hadn’t been cloud cover that night, plus the enemy’s anti-aircraft firepower wasn’t strong, we probably wouldn’t have been able to complete the aerial assault either."

"This is the charm of tactics, utilizing all favorable conditions."

Strasser obviously cared very much about the armored airship force; once he started talking about tactics, he couldn’t stop.

"I talked with Captain Schneider. He said your calmness and control over the battlefield when commanding over Amiens was the key to success..."

"Ahem."

A heavy cough interrupted Strasser’s eloquent speech.

Tirpitz knocked on the table and looked at Strasser with some dissatisfaction:

"Strasser, if you want to talk about how to fly in the sky, you can wait until after we finish eating... Now, let us fill our stomachs first."

Strasser shut his mouth somewhat awkwardly. Obviously, in front of this Grand Admiral, the status of this Air Force Minister was still much lower.

The dinner officially began.

The dishes were sumptuous, featuring roast goose, venison, and fresh Baltic herring.

But the minds of everyone present obviously weren’t on eating—except for Morin.

After all, these were dishes he hadn’t eaten in the medical center.

After a few glasses of wine, the atmosphere warmed up a bit.

Falkenhayn cut the venison on his plate and asked seemingly casually:

"Lieutenant Colonel Morin, I heard that at the General Staff, you made a very interesting deduction about the situation in the Balkan Peninsula?"

Here it comes.

Although Morin didn’t know when Falkenhayn learned of this, he put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth:

"Yes, Your Excellency the Minister... I believe that as the fighting on the Western Front stalemates, the Britannians will definitely look for a new breakthrough point... And the Balkan Peninsula is that softest underbelly."

"Those Britannians indeed like to do this kind of sneaky stuff."

Tirpitz snorted coldly, raised his wine glass, and took a big gulp.

"They never dare to clash head-on with us frontally, only knowing how to set up blockades at sea, or bully those weak, small countries."

"It can’t be said to be sneaky, Your Excellency Grand Admiral... More accurately, to maintain their hegemony, the Britannians can sacrifice everything—including allies."

Tirpitz’s movements paused. He raised his head, those eyes hidden under thick eyebrows staring fixedly at Morin:

"Sacrifice allies? What do you mean?"

Moltke the Younger interjected timely at this moment: "Lieutenant Colonel Morin has a very bold conjecture regarding the ultimate ownership of the Gallic Navy."

"Oh?"

With the topic turning to the Navy, Tirpitz finally got interested. He put down his wine glass and looked at Morin, that mountain-like sense of oppression instantly enveloping the latter.

"Tell me, young man... Do you think those Gauls will hand over the fleet to us? Or do you think they will scuttle themselves?"

"Neither, Your Excellency Grand Admiral."

Meeting Tirpitz’s gaze, Morin said calmly: "I believe the Britannian Royal Navy is highly likely to take action themselves to destroy the Gallic Republic’s fleet."

Immediately following, Morin applied the causes and consequences of "Operation Catapult" from the other world that he knew onto the Britannia and Gaul of this world.

After he finished speaking, the people in the private room also fell silent directly.

The fork in Strasser’s hand hovered in mid-air. Falkenhayn also stopped chewing, his brows tightly furrowed.

Only Grand Admiral Tirpitz’s expression didn’t change at all, just that the light in those eyes became even sharper.

"For an Army Lieutenant Colonel to actually be able to propose such a conjecture, it’s a bit interesting..."