Trenches, Guns, and Magic

The speed at which the trench system was constructed outside Bucharest was much faster than the Romanians inside the city had imagined.

The previous afternoon, Romanian scouts, braving the risk of sniper fire to sneak to the perimeter, used binoculars from a safe distance to see the Saxons sprinkling some sort of white powder to draw lines on the open ground.

At the time, the scouts thought it was preparation for some magical ritual. One bolder scout even lay in the bushes, sketched a rough map, and brought it back.

As a result, when a new batch of scouts went to check right at dawn the next day, they were completely dumbfounded.

The area reported yesterday as having barely begun digging was now replaced by continuous, fully formed trenches. Inside the trenches, entrenching shovels flew up and down. Dirt was constantly thrown out or slammed in place into sandbags stacked outside the trenches. Firing trenches, communication trenches, and the prototypes of reserve positions were already clearly distinguishable.

This construction speed, considered utterly absurd by the Balkan nations, shocked the scouting party into immediately sending someone back to report the situation.

After the news reached Bucharest, Ferdinand I and the city defense officers looked at each other in dismay for quite a while.

"Did they bring mages over to help dig the trenches?"

One officer couldn't help but voice this guess.

In his understanding, such engineering speed could only be achieved by mages using spells like 【Transmute Rock to Mud】.

But in fact, this had absolutely nothing to do with magic.

Through long-term practice and accumulation on the Western Front since the outbreak of the war, the Saxon Imperial Army had developed an extremely comprehensive standardized system for earthworks.

The Imperial Army Earthworks Operating Manual compiled by Morin and the instruction unit was only a starting point.

Based on this, various frontline units had independently developed a large number of practical "earthwork lifehacks."

For example, using lime powder to pre-mark lines to plan the trench layout; using ropes to fix measuring depths to ensure uniform trench specifications; and even summarizing the optimal excavation techniques and rotation systems under different soil conditions.

In short, even without magical intervention, the Saxon Army was the undisputed "Earthworks Champion" of all Europa.

And this news ultimately convinced Ferdinand I and the city defense officers of one thing: the Saxons truly had no intention of attacking; they were genuinely preparing to lay siege to the city.

In the temporary war room of the Old Royal Palace, the atmosphere around the conference table subtly relaxed.

The tension on several officers' faces visibly eased; someone even leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh of relief.

A siege?

That meant time was on their side.

As long as they could hold out until the reinforcements returning from the Kingdom of Bulgaria arrived, a "blooming from the center" counterattack was not empty talk.

Except for Ferdinand I sitting at the head of the table...

This Saxon King of the Romanians showed no signs of relaxation on his face.

If two days ago he had desperately wished the Saxons' attack would be as slow as possible, now his thoughts were completely reversed... he almost hoped the Saxons outside the city would launch an attack immediately.

The reason was simple.

Those Blood Thralls, originally prepared to fight a decisive battle against the Saxons, had instead become a ticking time bomb in the absence of an enemy attack.

Blood Thralls needed blood.

Every single day.

And according to the black-robed old man, the "reserves" in the city were only enough to last two days.

Suppressing his anxiety, Ferdinand I asked if the current situation of the Saxon troops around the city had been ascertained.

The newly appointed City Defense Commander, a major general with a graying beard, shook his head.

"Your Majesty, the reconnaissance range of our scouts is very limited... The trucks heavily equipped by the Saxons make their small units ridiculously fast."

He pointed to several locations marked with red crosses on the map.

"The moment our reconnaissance teams probe just a little deeper, they get bitten by the enemy's mobile units."

Another officer added: "In just two short days, we have consecutively lost six reconnaissance squads... All were sent out and failed to return. We currently don't know if they've been captured or are dead or alive."

Ferdinand I listened to these reports with a frown.

"Who are the men being sent out?"

"Mostly mid-level NCOs and veterans with combat experience," the City Defense Commander's tone was heavy. "The city defense pressure is already immense; we can't afford to keep losing manpower like this."

After discussing for a while, the group ultimately had no choice but to abandon further deep reconnaissance of the perimeter, maintaining only long-distance surveillance of the Saxons' main positions.

After discussing several logistical allocation matters, the City Defense Commander reported another matter troubling him to Ferdinand I.

"Your Majesty, over the past two days, some... unfavorable rumors have appeared in the city."

"What rumors?"

"Among the citizens who haven't evacuated, talk has begun circulating about 'monsters roaming at night'... And after curfew last night, several patrols reported spotting unidentified personnel wandering the city streets."

The City Defense Commander continued, recalling the report he received early that morning.

"The patrols attempted to apprehend these curfew violators, but the other party ran... extremely fast, quickly disappearing into the alleys."

Ferdinand I tapped his fingers lightly on the table twice, his face impassive.

"Major General Van, what do you think?"

The City Defense Commander hesitated, then lowered his voice.

"Your Majesty, I was thinking... is it possible the Saxons have already secretly infiltrated?"

This guess immediately drew agreement from the other officers present.

"Entirely possible! From the reconnaissance aircraft and assault troops earlier, the Saxons' tactics are getting increasingly tricky!"

"If they sent small elite units to sneak into the city and cause sabotage, we're in big trouble!"

Listening to the officers' chaotic discussion, Ferdinand I actually knew better than anyone what those "unidentified personnel" really were.

But he didn't reveal the slightest hint on his face. Instead, following the City Defense Commander's speculation, he naturally picked up the thread.

"Strengthen the perimeter defenses... guard strictly against the Saxons sneaking in."

Hearing his words, the City Defense Commander immediately looked troubled.

"Your Majesty, right now we might not have enough manpower... If we strengthen the perimeter defenses, we will have to cut the manpower for night patrols within the city..."

"The city is full of civilians who couldn't evacuate."

Ferdinand I's voice was noticeably and unnaturally flat, though the officers present failed to pick up on it.

"The city defense forces should focus on guarding against external enemies."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

No one noticed that when the King said, "The city is full of civilians who couldn't evacuate," the hand gripping the armrest of his chair tightened significantly, his knuckles turning white.

After the meeting concluded, the officers left the war room one after another.

The sound of footsteps, conversation, and the squeak of pushed chairs faded away one by one.

Finally, only Ferdinand I remained, having dismissed his attendants, sitting alone at the empty long table.

His expression was first gloomy, then the corners of his mouth twitched a few times. His brow furrowed and relaxed, the muscles on his entire face shifting several times within just a dozen seconds.

Finally, this King of Romania raised his right hand and pressed it hard against his forehead.

"What... what am I doing?"

The words were squeezed through his teeth, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

What had he just done?

Ordered a reduction in night patrols within the city, guided his officers in the wrong direction...

Cleared the obstacles for the Blood Thralls to "forage."

Meanwhile, Morin was enjoying a rare half-day of relaxation.

The Kampfgruppe's field airfield had been quickly constructed.

Of course, calling it construction... was really just finding a sufficiently flat piece of land, using shovels to clear the surface of rocks and weeds, and then rolling over it a few times with radiant crystal trucks.

He finally waited for Richthofen's arrival with the three "Taube" reconnaissance aircraft relocating to the new base.

The three reconnaissance aircraft, maintaining their spacing, flew over from the north one after another. The engine noise grew louder as it approached from the distance.

The lead aircraft circled over the airfield, confirmed the runway direction, and was the first to lower its altitude. After bumping and taxiing for a distance, it stopped steadily.

The next two landed sequentially. The last one's right wheel ran over an incompletely leveled mound of dirt upon touchdown, bouncing and tilting the airframe slightly, but it still stopped safely.

The three pilots dragged their exhausted bodies to Morin and lined up. Morin smiled amiably and went up to them. He first patted each of them on the shoulder to express his condolences, then abruptly changed the subject.

"You guys take a good rest first, get something to eat, do a check on the planes..."

When Richthofen heard the word "rest," alarm bells rang in his head.

Because this scene in front of him felt all too familiar.

Sure enough, Morin's next words almost made Richthofen and the other two pilots cry.

"And then, before it gets dark, conduct an aerial reconnaissance over Bucharest."

After the pilots turned around to find the ground crew to schedule the flight plan, Morin returned to the Kampfgruppe's temporary command post.

The command post was set up about 3 kilometers behind the siege line. According to Kleist and the others, the Kampfgruppe command post should logically be located further back in a safer position.

But for Morin, being too far from the front line meant that if an unexpected situation arose that others couldn't handle, he wouldn't make it in time to deal with it.

Kleist was currently waiting for him at the entrance of the tent, holding a telegram paper.

"Colonel, the telegram from His Highness the Crown Prince just arrived."

Morin took the telegram paper, unfolded it, and looked. The content wasn't particularly long.

【To Sir Friedrich:

You must act with the utmost determination and boldness, without hesitation.

I alone will bear the responsibility for all consequences arising from your actions.

You must create the maximum possible chaos and destruction in the combat zone. This is no ordinary harassment; it is a critical strike paving the way for the decisive battle of our follow-up main forces.

The main forces of the Fifth Army Group will launch a new round of offensives in the near future. The actions of the Kampfgruppe must closely coordinate with this, striving to secure victory in one fell swoop.

Georg (full name omitted)

At Fifth Army Group Command Post】

Morin flipped the telegram paper back and forth, reading it twice.

"Making a big ruckus isn't good... I was planning to wait it out here and slaughter..."

Hearing this muttering beside him, Kleist glanced at Morin, knowing what his superior was worried about.

The original plan for the "Morin Kampfgruppe" was very clear:

Have the Kampfgruppe construct positions and fully rest. Wait for the exhausted Romanian reinforcements recalled from the Bulgarian front line to arrive at Bucharest, and then strike them head-on while waiting at ease.

This plan was relatively safe and low-risk.

But the Crown Prince clearly wanted Morin to make a bigger splash here to coordinate with the Fifth Army Group's actions. The latter was highly likely preparing to move on Belgrade.

"Make a bigger ruckus..."

Morin pondered the weight of these words, then sat down at the table and began drafting a reply.

The content of his reply wasn't long either.

First, he stated he would "act without restraint" according to the Crown Prince's request.

Then he asked for resources—requesting the Crown Prince to dispatch more reinforcing troops. After all, "even the cleverest housewife cannot cook without rice"; making a big ruckus required capital.

Finally, he briefly mentioned the matter of the L15 armored airship transporting the artillery regiment, acting as a relatively formal procedure for what he had previously agreed upon with Andreas.

After sending the reply, Morin dealt with a pile of trivial logistical coordination matters, signed over a dozen supply requisition forms, and reviewed two battle damage replacement applications submitted by the instruction unit companies.

Having finally freed up some time, Morin was just about to take advantage of the rare downtime to flip through the spell notes in his head.

He hadn't neglected his studies in spells during this time. Every night in the "Room You Can't Leave Without Studying," he filled his spellbook, and his spellcaster level had slowly risen to Level 9, 5th-circle.

Although he currently only had one 5th-circle spell slot, he was finally a proper 5th-circle mage.

And among 5th-circle spells, there were indeed some heavyweight spells available for use.

But just as Morin found a comfortable position to lie down, ready to reconfigure his "Spell Build," Hans, the orderly on duty, lifted the tent flap.

"Colonel, Commander Weichs of the 5th Guard Reserve Cavalry Regiment has returned and says he needs to speak with you face-to-face."

Morin raised an eyebrow and sat back up from the camp bed.

"Let him in."

A moment later, a young officer in his thirties strode into the command post.

Maximilian von Weichs... His full name was actually quite long. Morin vaguely remembered his middle names included "Maria, Joseph, Karl" blah blah blah.

Current Commander of the 5th Guard Reserve Cavalry Regiment, rank of Major.

Tall, with proper features, the standard look of a Saxon officer.

But right now, his face was covered in dust, the hem of his uniform was spattered with mud, and his riding boots were coated in dirt. It was obvious he had just rushed back from executing a mission outside.

Morin looked his cavalry regiment commander up and down a few times.

He felt he had seen this name somewhere, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember exactly who he was.

Unfortunately, his knowledge of the generals of the Third Reich was truly limited, and racking his brains yielded no results.

"Major Weichs, take a seat."

Maximilian didn't sit. He stood at attention and saluted first, then got straight to the point.

"Colonel, I hope you can assign more combat missions to the cavalry regiment."

Morin hadn't expected the other party to come to him to say this. Recalling the cavalry regiment's recent actions in his head, he said: "What do you mean? Didn't you just conduct a few beautiful pursuits near Ploiești the other day? Captured a lot of Romanians. I read the battle reports."

Maximilian's face darkened considerably.

"Colonel, those targets were entirely routed soldiers who had lost their will to fight... Our cavalry had barely launched a charge before the other side couldn't wait to throw their guns on the ground and raise their hands in surrender."

His tone carried frustration.

"One company chased a group of Romanians for almost three kilometers, only to find the other party wasn't running away; they were looking for a safe place to surrender."

Hearing this, Morin couldn't hold back and let out a laugh.

"Sorry... cough cough, so your cavalry regiment hasn't had enough fighting?"

Maximilian opened his mouth, his expression twisting for a good while, but ultimately he didn't refute it.

After a few seconds of silence, this Guard cavalry regiment commander took a deep breath, no longer beating around the bush.

"Colonel, from the moment I took over the cavalry regiment until now, I have always been proud of my identity as a cavalry commander! But since leading my troops into battle... I have to admit a fact."

His hand unconsciously touched the cavalry saber at his waist.

"Traditional cavalry is no longer suited for this battlefield... or rather, we are exiting the stage."

To be honest, these words carried a lot of weight coming from a cavalry officer.

Morin put away his smile, leaned back in his chair, and looked at the other party seriously.

"Go on."

"I am very lost, Colonel."

Facing this young colonel who was a full cycle younger than him, Maximilian lowered his voice.

"Cavalry used to be the kings of the battlefield; a single charge could decide victory or defeat... but now, the massive use of machine guns, trenches, and barbed wire gives us fewer and fewer opportunities to even get close to the enemy."

He paused.

"I even have a premonition... perhaps in a few years, there won't be a cavalry branch in the entire Imperial Army anymore."

After listening, Morin wasn't in a hurry to answer.

He stood up, walked to the table, and poured two glasses of water, handing one to Maximilian and holding the other himself.

"Major Weichs, the fact that you can say these words shows you are a soldier with foresight."

Maximilian took the glass respectfully but didn't drink immediately.

"But I hope you understand that, at least for now, cavalry still has many irreplaceable characteristics..." Morin looked at the other party with the kindest gaze possible and began exercising another important duty of a commander.

"Look at this operation. Reconnaissance, pursuit, perimeter blockade—many tasks of the Kampfgruppe are done by you cavalry... Radiant crystal trucks have strong mobility, but their flexibility on complex terrain still can't compare to yours, and they make a lot more noise."

Maximilian nodded slightly, but the confusion on his face didn't fade.

Morin took a sip of water, put down the glass, and switched to a brisk tone.

"As for the future of cavalry... in my personal opinion, you can still continue to fight like cavalry; you just might need to change your 'mount'."

"Change mounts?" Maximilian was taken aback. "You mean..."

"To be honest, I'm currently trying to form a brand new type of 'Armored Cavalry'."

Recalling the half-track platforms Demag was spearheading, Morin continued:

"The Imperial military industry has actually developed a brand new, highly mobile armored unit. This also means that in the future, we will have more armored vehicles with direct combat capabilities deployed on the battlefield."

"And the people operating these things need the mobility mindset, assault awareness, and battlefield intuition of cavalry... To put it bluntly, the best armored troops are made from cavalrymen."

This last sentence was naturally nonsense made up by Morin, but he had to appease the cavalry officer under his command for now.

But hearing this, Maximilian's expression changed noticeably.

"I've been worrying about not having a suitable unit to help me run tests."

Morin spread his hands, painting the final "pie in the sky."

"If you're willing, I can petition His Highness the Crown Prince to let the 5th Guard Reserve Cavalry Regiment become the first pilot unit for 'Armored Cavalry'."

Maximilian's grip on his water glass tightened. His lips moved, and it took him a long time to squeeze out a sentence.

"...Colonel, are you telling the truth?"

"Of course it's true. But that's all for later."

Morin stood up, walked over, and patted his shoulder—this action didn't seem abrupt given the height difference between the two.

"For now, focus on fighting the current battle well... There will be many places where cavalry is needed later, I promise."

Seeming to have thought of something, Morin added:

"If you have any ideas, you can go to the Kampfgruppe's truck unit and chat with First Lieutenant Guderian... He also has many insights in this area. I believe you two will definitely have a lot to talk about."

In fact, before forming the Kampfgruppe to head to the Kingdom of Romania, Guderian, who was originally Rommel's deputy, had submitted an application hoping to transfer to the Kampfgruppe's motor unit.

After talking with the other party twice, Morin also realized that some things inside the other party might really have awakened early, so he approved his application...

After finally finishing "painting the pie" for Maximilian and sending him off, Morin slumped into his chair and let out a long breath.

"Since when did I start moonlighting as an agony aunt..."

Several hours later, just past three in the afternoon.

Richthofen, piloting his "Taube" reconnaissance aircraft, swept over fields and villages from the north of Bucharest, gradually approaching the city silhouette of the Kingdom of Romania's capital.

The afternoon sun illuminated this Balkan capital in fine detail.

Streets, buildings, squares, church spires—all lay clearly spread out beneath his wings.

Richthofen first descended to an altitude of five hundred meters, circling the city perimeter once.

Seeing no suspected threatening targets, he relaxed slightly, then continued to lower his altitude and began low-level reconnaissance.

Gently pushing the control stick forward, the nose of the reconnaissance aircraft dipped slightly, and its altitude rapidly dropped from five hundred meters to below three hundred meters.

The details of the city were fully exposed at this altitude.

Hardly any civilians could be seen on the main streets; occasionally, a few people in military uniforms ran through intersections.

On a square on the south side of the city, a large amount of stacked military supplies and tents could be seen, clearly a logistics distribution point for the defenders.

In the west of the city, there was a noticeably reinforced barricade built from overturned carriages and sandbags, behind which the silhouette of machine guns could be faintly seen.

Richthofen continued to use his knees to grip the control stick to control the aircraft's attitude, while pulling out the somewhat bulky Zeiss aerial camera and constantly taking photos of the city interior.

Civilians and patrolling soldiers in the city also noticed the airplane in the sky.

Several Romanian soldiers standing guard on rooftops raised their rifles and fired at the sky. The bullets flew past beneath the reconnaissance aircraft, missing by a wide margin and posing absolutely no threat.

Richthofen ignored these sporadic shots and continued flying along his planned route toward the city center.

Then he noticed a clock tower along his flight path.

The clock tower's location was prominent; it was one of the tallest buildings in the northern-central area of the city, and there seemed to be figures on the flat roof of the tower.

"Probably sentries too..."

Richthofen didn't pay it much mind, because up to now, all the shooting from the ground had been completely disorganized. Hitting an airplane with rifle bullets was like buying a lottery ticket anyway.

The instant the "Taube" reconnaissance aircraft swept past the clock tower.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two gunshots rang out almost simultaneously.

Immediately following, Richthofen noticed a bullet hole appear on the left wing.

"A hit?!"

Richthofen immediately yanked the control stick back hard, simultaneously kicking the right rudder to deflect the heading.

The nose of the reconnaissance aircraft rose sharply. The radiant crystal engine shrieked piercingly. In a rapid climb, the entire aircraft banked to the right, swiftly putting distance between itself and the urban area.

After re-trimming the aircraft's attitude, Richthofen steadied the control stick and felt out the handling.

Although the left wing had taken a hit, the aircraft's attitude was relatively stable without any obvious yawing; there shouldn't be any major problems.

However, this was the first time Richthofen had been hit by the enemy in the air, and from ground fire no less.

Without much hesitation, Richthofen pulled the reconnaissance aircraft to a safe altitude and then disengaged from the airspace over Bucharest.

"Hitting a moving airplane from the top of a clock tower..."

Richthofen looked back through the fierce wind at the shrinking silhouette of the city behind him, a feeling of something being not quite right churning in his heart.

"Just pure luck?"

Meanwhile, in the Kampfgruppe's temporary command post on the outskirts of Bucharest.

Upon learning that the aviation unit had begun executing its reconnaissance mission, Morin lay down on his camp bed and began staring at the information on Bucharest's urban area being continuously illuminated by the reconnaissance aircraft on the system map.

As Richthofen's reconnaissance aircraft flew over the city, the Romanian military units within the urban area were marked out one after another.

Infantry battalions, military police, police, machine gun positions, artillery, supply storage points... most were very conventional defender configurations.

Everything looked perfectly normal.

Until the moment the reconnaissance aircraft came under fire and rapidly climbed to disengage. Morin noticed a new unit card icon suddenly appear near the clock tower on the system map.

And the shape of this unit card was different from regular local unit cards. Instead, it had a special shape like the "Vukodlak" encountered when fighting the Serbians previously.

【Kingdom of Romania - Wallachian Special Unit - Blood Thrall】

Immediately following, the system's [Intelligence] and [Information] interfaces refreshed with a massive amount of new entries, like a new DLC had dropped.

Morin sat straight up from the camp bed, his entire demeanor no longer calm.

"Bro, are we starting this again?"