Trenches, Guns, and Magic

"Construct positions?"

Manstein, Kleist, and the others were somewhat surprised.

"Commander, do you mean... we are going to fight a trench war with them?"

"No, not trench warfare."

Seeing that the two hadn't grasped his meaning, Morin immediately shook his head:

"It's merely 'beseiging without attacking.' You must realize, the initiative has always been on our side. If we launch a forced assault now, the initiative will slowly slip from our hands."

Speaking to this point, Morin gave Manstein a pointed look.

"Remember, losing the initiative is tantamount to handing your fate over to the enemy..."

Kleist: "Are you saying we don't need to take Bucharest immediately?"

Morin didn't answer the question directly. Instead, he brought the two to the map, gathered the other officers around, and asked: "Let me ask you... what is the primary objective of our Kampfgruppe's operation within the Kingdom of Romania?"

Kleist thought for a moment, then seemed to understand.

"To put pressure on the Romanians, forcing them to recall a portion of their main force currently in the Kingdom of Bulgaria..."

"Then do you think capturing the capital puts more pressure on the Romanians, or keeping the capital in a precarious, near-collapse state puts more pressure on them?"

Manstein's eyes lit up upon hearing Morin's words:

"I see... If we directly capture Bucharest, the Romanians might just break the jar since it's already cracked, and like the Gauls, establish a temporary capital elsewhere! But if we keep the capital in a constant state of peril, it is highly probable they will consider returning to reinforce it!"

"Exactly~ This is a form of 'maximum pressure' on the enemy!"

Morin clapped his hands together, nodding in approval, then looked at Kleist and Manstein and explained:

"The current strength of our entire Kampfgruppe is ultimately limited. Moreover, we are now an isolated force deep in the Romanian heartland; logistical supply is our top priority."

"The safest approach right now is to besiege without attacking, continuously creating pressure on the Romanians... Wait for our reinforcements to arrive, and then, at the right moment, use absolute firepower superiority to crush their will to resist in one fell swoop."

"The Kingdom of Romania is a proper nation, after all, and its landmass is significant. I was never arrogant enough to think I could conquer this country directly with just one Kampfgruppe... When His Highness the Crown Prince asked me about support and assisting units, I also said 'the more, the better'."

To be honest, Morin's decision caused the other officers in the command post to breathe a sigh of relief.

No one wanted to hot-headedly charge a heavily guarded capital when the situation was unclear.

"Additionally..."

Morin continued to add:

"Have the engineer units begin constructing a field airfield in a suitable location... Our reconnaissance aircraft in the rear should also relocate here. The L15 armored airship will soon return to resupply and transport troops, so we need other units to provide continuous aerial reconnaissance and fire support."

"Understood!"

The command post's orders were quickly issued, and the massive Kampfgruppe began moving again.

The Austro-Hungarian mountain troops began clearing out enemy remnants in the Prahova River Valley and securing this land corridor.

Meanwhile, the various units of the "Morin Kampfgruppe" advanced sequentially until they were only five kilometers from the outskirts of Bucharest.

Under the astonished gazes of the scouts dispatched from Bucharest, tens of thousands of Saxon soldiers picked up their entrenching shovels and began methodically digging their first trench line.

Simultaneously, on the temporary field maintenance platform outside Ploiești, the L15 armored airship also completed its final task for this trip.

All the supplies, as well as the three "Siegfried Mark I, Modified" Armored Knights, had been safely unloaded onto the ground.

Upon learning that the armored airship was about to return temporarily, Morin, who was inspecting the trench construction on the front line, hurried back to the airship's location and found Andreas.

"Colonel, we are preparing to return to base."

A trace of reluctance showed on the Air Force Lieutenant Colonel's face. Just a few short days of contact with Morin made him completely understand the words his senior, Colonel Schneider, had spoken.

In his view, this miraculous colonel's forward-thinking had indeed brought a massive amount of new ideas and inspiration to the Imperial Air Force.

At least regarding the employment of armored airships and airplanes, just these two days of combat were enough for Andreas to write a plethora of research reports.

Even the key officers on the L15 armored airship had already drafted a standard operating procedure for "airdropping Armored Knights"...

"After the L15 returns to the rear base in Transylvania for resupply and maintenance, we will load supplies and a portion of the support troops allocated by His Highness the Crown Prince and come over as quickly as possible."

Lieutenant Colonel Andreas looked at Morin and asked earnestly:

"Before we leave, Colonel, is there anything else you need us to urgently transport over via airship? As long as it can fit in the cargo bay, we can bring it to you."

Hearing this question, Morin blurted out almost without hesitation.

"Artillery... bring me more artillery!"

"Artillery?"

"That's right. I've already calculated it. One K14 105mm field artillery regiment, including one basic load of ammunition, personnel, horses, ammunition carts, observation vehicles, spare parts vehicles, and towing trucks—all the bits and pieces should weigh between 750 and 800 tons."

Recalling the figures he had calculated with Kleist earlier, Morin told Andreas:

"Based on the L15 armored airship's payload capacity, you can rapidly transport 2 artillery regiments over, and still have enough capacity for an additional 200 tons or so of supplies."

Hearing that Morin seemed to have calculated the total weight of an artillery regiment long ago, Andreas felt the back of his neck start to sweat.

Just when exactly did Colonel Morin start plotting all this?!

On the other hand, Morin couldn't care less. Since Crown Prince Georg had given him the "banner" to directly command the armored airship, he naturally wasn't going to be polite.

"Although the Prahova River Valley corridor has been opened, in my view, it's more for infantry units to pass through on the ground... For clunky behemoths like heavy artillery, transporting them is still very troublesome!"

"If you can use the airship to directly transport a batch of artillery units over, it will save us a massive amount of precious time."

Lieutenant Colonel Andreas immediately understood Morin's meaning.

"I understand, Colonel Morin... I will get to work on this the moment I return to the rear staging area."

"Mhm. I will also personally send a telegram to the Crown Prince, asking him to help coordinate this matter."

Morin patted Andreas on the shoulder and smiled amiably.

"Bon voyage, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Thank you, Colonel."

After the L15 armored airship disengaged from its ground deployment status some time later, its massive hull slowly lifted off amidst the roar of its magitech core and propellers.

Standing on the ground, watching this aerial behemoth return to the sky, Morin felt a surge of awe once again.

"1,800-ton payload capacity... this thing is too unscientific..."

"But then again, it sure is convenient."

Meanwhile, the sudden "brake" pulled by the Morin Kampfgruppe left everyone in Bucharest, including Ferdinand I, feeling utterly bewildered.

They had prepared themselves for the enemy to launch a furious assault with thunderous momentum, just like the day before.

The city's defenders slept in their armor, weapons at the ready. Those converted Blood Thrall warriors had already been deployed to key defensive nodes within the city.

The old man in the black robe led the members of his secret society in frantically converting more Blood Thralls without sleep or rest.

All of Bucharest was like a fully drawn bowstring, ready to loose a deadly arrow at any moment.

And the result...

No one expected that the Saxons, who had steamrolled their way to the city gates at an unbelievable speed, would halt their attack just one step away.

Not only did they not continue the attack, but they were unhurriedly digging trenches outside the city?

What was the meaning of this?

At the temporary war council in the Old Royal Palace of Bucharest, the atmosphere was bizarre to the extreme.

"What exactly are they trying to do?"

A general who had chosen to stay behind to defend the capital looked with a bewildered face at the marked positions the Saxon troops were digging on the map.

"Do they want to fight a protracted siege war with us?"

"That doesn't fit their operational style."

Another officer immediately retorted: "Since they broke through the border, they have been pursuing high-speed mobility and lightning strikes... Stopping suddenly now must mean there is some conspiracy."

Sitting at the head of the table, Ferdinand I also frowned deeply.

When things go against the norm, there must be a demon at work.

The Saxons' abnormal behavior made his already uneasy heart hang even higher.

Just then, an officer responsible for logistics stood up and reported a piece of news to Ferdinand I that was neither good nor bad.

"Your Majesty, currently the reserves of food and other daily necessities within Bucharest are still relatively sufficient. If we ration them, we should be able to hold out until reinforcements return!"

"The Saxons' sudden halt in their attack might conversely buy us precious time."

Hearing this news, a glint of light flashed in Ferdinand I's eyes.

On the Bulgarian front line, the Kingdom of Romania still had a main force of three hundred thousand troops besieging the enemy alongside Greece and the Ottoman Empire.

Before evacuating, the Army General Staff had already mobilized a batch of troops to return and reinforce. Calculating the days, they only needed to hold out for a few more.

If they could recall more troops, it wouldn't be a bad idea to give these arrogant Saxon soldiers—an isolated force deep in enemy territory—a little surprise...

"Send a telegram to the Army General Staff immediately!"

Ferdinand I stood up abruptly, a trace of confidence returning to his voice.

"Tell them the capital will do its utmost to hold out and attract the Saxons' attention! Order them to immediately withdraw several more divisions from the Bulgarian front line and bring them back! The more, the better!"

"We can even... exploit the Saxons' arrogance and underestimation of the enemy to launch a counterattack against them!"

This bold idea reinvigorated the officers in the conference room.

After the meeting concluded, Ferdinand I returned to his study in the royal palace and met the old man in the black robe waiting there.

He informed the other party of the Saxons halting their attack and his plan to recall the main force to launch a counterattack.

Then he asked the question he cared about and worried about the most.

"Master, if Bucharest continues to be besieged like this, will our reserved blood... be enough for the consumption of those warriors?"

Hearing his words, the black-robed old man was clearly somewhat surprised as well.

His expression visibly shifted, followed by a long silence.

Just as Ferdinand I's heart was about to leap into his throat, he finally spoke slowly.

"The Saxons stopped their attack? This is indeed quite sudden..."

"Your Majesty, because we have converted a large number of Blood Thralls these past few days, based on the current rate of consumption, our reserved blood indeed... cannot sustain them for too long."

"After all, Blood Thralls have a certain requirement for the freshness of the blood. If it's stored for too long, not only will it fail to nourish them, but it will also produce some side effects."

Ferdinand I's heart sank sharply. He hurriedly pressed: "How long is 'too long'?"

"At most... two days."

This number caused Ferdinand I's face to turn instantly pale. He never expected that after the Saxons stopped their attack, the real risk would emerge from within the capital.

Ferdinand I: "Are there any other solutions?"

"Your Majesty, please do not worry about the blood reserve issue."

"Why?"

The old man turned, facing the map of Bucharest on the study wall, his voice echoing eerily.

"Because, this city itself... is a massive blood bank."

"What are you saying?!"

Ferdinand I almost thought he had misheard. He took a step forward, staring intently at the back of the black-robed old man, trying to discern something beneath that voluminous robe.

"What exactly are you trying to do?!"

The old man didn't turn his head. He merely raised that withered, chicken-claw-like hand and slowly dragged it across the map, speaking simultaneously.

"It's not what we want to do, but what Your Majesty wants to do..."

His fingertip traced from the center of the city, across those densely packed streets, across those blocks representing residential areas.

"Your Majesty, you are the King of this country. You should know better than anyone how many of your subjects live in this city."

The old man's voice was flat and waveless, yet it sent a bone-chilling coldness through Ferdinand I.

"Excluding those who have already fled the city, and adding the refugees from surrounding areas, there are at least two hundred thousand civilians in the city right now."

"Two hundred thousand..."

The old man repeated the number. From his cracked lips, a sigh of satisfaction seemed to escape.

"What a massive number. What an... abundant source of life."

Ferdinand I's body swayed. He instinctively grabbed the nearby stone desk to keep from falling.

He finally understood what the old man meant by "do not worry about the blood reserve."

He was also finally certain that those rumors about "monsters" and "missing citizens" were not unfounded.

His subjects, those he had sworn his life to protect, were becoming the food for the Blood Thralls he had created with his own hands.

"No... no!" Ferdinand I's voice became shrill from anger and fear. "You cannot do this! They are my subjects! Not livestock you raise in a pen!"

The old man finally turned around slowly.

Beneath the shadow of the hood, Ferdinand I saw his eyes clearly for the first time.

It was a pair of cloudy yet exceptionally bright eyes. The color of the pupils was actually the same as his own—that eerie scarlet.

"Your Majesty, please calm down."

For the first time, a trace of emotion colored the old man's voice.

"This is the necessary price to pay to win this war."

"To achieve victory, is it permissible to sacrifice innocent civilians?"

Ferdinand I roared, but he didn't even realize himself that his heart had actually begun to waver. A faint, ancient voice seemed to be speaking in his mind.

"It has always been thus since ancient times."

The old man answered as if it were a matter of course.

"In war, there are never any innocents... When those Saxons reach the city walls, will they show mercy because these people are civilians? No, they will only use cannons and machine guns to raze everything in this city to the ground."

"What we are doing now is merely making this 'price' more valuable."

The old man took two steps forward, leaning close to Ferdinand I, his voice dropping even lower.

"Your Majesty, you must remember, you are now not just the King of Romania... you are the Dragon of Wallachia that has slumbered for four hundred and forty years!"

"You are His successor. His power already flows in your veins. Your will represents the will of this land!"

"Will you choose to act like a weak human monarch, clinging to laughable mercy and morality, watching helplessly as your country is ravaged by the enemy and your people slaughtered..."

"Or will you choose to act like a true ruler, discarding useless emotions, and using iron and blood to defend your throne and honor?"

"The choice... is yours."

With that, the old man bowed respectfully to him.

But to Ferdinand I, it seemed more like the other party was bowing to another ruler standing right behind him.