Trenches, Guns, and Magic

The urgent telegram sent by the Morin Kampfgruppe actually experienced significant delays on its way to the Fifth Army Group Command.

The reason was simple: current military communication capabilities were severely limited.

Although the entire Kampfgruppe was now equivalent to a division-sized unit in formation and thus carried over 200 kilometers of wired cable...

These cables were only sufficient to lay a line from the Kampfgruppe's temporary command post back to the large temporary radio station established at the Predeal Pass.

For communication further to the rear from the pass, they had to rely on the heavy radio equipment at this station.

And these heavy radios, used for Army Group-level communications, obviously were not powered on 24 hours a day. They had fixed operating times, coming online for scheduled transmissions only once every six hours.

When Kleist informed the pass radio station of the telegram's contents, they had just missed the midnight transmission window.

Therefore, even though the communicators at the pass had the telegram, they had to wait until 6:00 AM the next day, when the Fifth Army Group's heavy radio came online, to transmit this urgent message.

By the time Crown Prince Georg received this telegram, it was already past 6:00 AM the following day.

The Fifth Army Group Command was located in a concealed position 10 kilometers from Belgrade. His Highness the Crown Prince always maintained a strict routine: waking up at 6:00 AM sharp and arriving at the command tent by 6:30 AM, just in time to receive the latest morning briefings and telegrams.

Chief of Staff Major General Knobelsdorff was usually there half an hour earlier than him. Today was no exception; as the Crown Prince approached the command tent, the former was already waiting for him inside.

Seeing the Crown Prince arrive, Knobelsdorff turned and simultaneously handed over the telegram in his hand.

"Your Highness, an urgent telegram from the Morin Kampfgruppe, received just this morning."

Georg took it. His eyes swept over the first line without much reaction.

But when he reached the third line, his movements paused.

After reading the entire telegram, the Crown Prince placed the paper back on the desk, leaned back in his chair, stared at the roof of the tent, and remained silent for a good while.

"Vampires..."

He uttered this proper noun, generally considered folklore, his tone carrying mostly a sense of marvel.

"To think vampires actually exist... and hidden so deeply. The General Staff Intelligence Department hadn't even caught a whisper of this previously..."

Knobelsdorff nodded in agreement, walking over to sit at the table with a highly complex look in his eyes.

"Your Highness, is Ferdinand I intending to pull a stunt like the Gauls did?"

Georg shook his head.

"Hard to say. However, according to the reports, the Gauls mostly utilized Necromancy spells. We don't yet know the full details of this Romanian situation... But fundamentally, it's quite similar: introducing supernatural forces into a conventional war."

The Crown Prince paused for a few seconds, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

"Speaking of which, why is it always Sir Friedrich who runs into these things?"

Knobelsdorff didn't respond to that statement, but he shared similar sentiments inwardly... After all, every time they encountered the enemy employing supernatural means, Morin and his troops just happened to be right at the vanguard.

If you called it good luck, it truly was... at least they survived every time.

If you called it bad luck, having a constitution that specifically attracted such tough nuts to crack was definitely unique.

Georg picked up the telegram again and reread it, this time more carefully.

"Morin was very clear in the telegram: until further reinforcements and supplies arrive, he will not initiate an attack on Bucharest."

He set the telegram down, resting his crossed hands on the desk.

"If the situation he describes is true... and based on my personal understanding of him, I believe he has no reason to exaggerate... then under these circumstances, with the limited troop strength currently at his disposal, there's really nothing more he can do."

Knobelsdorff nodded in agreement upon hearing this.

"Based on the intelligence currently gathered by Colonel Morin and his men, a rash attack would amplify the advantages of those supernatural units in urban combat... especially at night... With the 'Morin Kampfgruppe's' current composition, I fear they wouldn't even be able to hold the outskirts of the urban area."

Knobelsdorff paused, switching to a slightly lighter tone.

"But regardless, the fact that Colonel Morin could actively pump the brakes after noticing anomalies while laying siege to the enemy's capital... keeping a cool head, is truly rare for an officer of his age and rank."

Georg actually smiled upon hearing this.

"You're right. If it were anyone else, having swept through all resistance and being on the verge of taking the enemy capital, they really might not have been able to resist the allure of the title 'Conqueror'."

The Crown Prince stood up, walked over to the large map hanging on one side of the command tent, and placed his finger on the Balkan Peninsula, moving it slowly.

"Therefore, I absolutely will not allow Sir Friedrich and his troops to be needlessly consumed beneath the walls of Bucharest."

Knobelsdorff waited quietly for the follow-up.

Georg thought for a good while, drawing a circle with his finger over the Romanian region on the map.

"Sir Schmidt..."

"Here."

"If the Empire truly commits a large number of troops toward Romania, upgrading this feint into a full-scale offensive, what problems do you think will arise?"

Knobelsdorff thought for a moment.

"The most immediate problem would be command authority."

Georg looked back.

"Continue."

"Morin currently holds the rank of Colonel, and the entire Kampfgruppe is no more than a reinforced division-sized unit... If the Empire really pours troops in this direction, it would have to be at least a corps, or even larger."

"When commanders at the corps level or higher arrive at the front line, given Colonel Morin's rank and seniority, he might not have the final say on everything on the battlefield."

Georg nodded slowly. This was exactly the problem he had been considering.

Morin and the instruction unit were the sharpest sword in his hand...

And in his view, the reason this sword could yield results every time was largely because Morin possessed sufficient autonomous decision-making power on the battlefield.

Once a higher-ranking commander dropped in, whether Morin's tactical judgments would still be respected was another matter entirely.

Furthermore, as the Empire's Crown Prince, Georg also had his own "selfish motives."

If he truly wanted to establish sufficient merit on the Balkan Peninsula, then Morin and his Kampfgruppe had to continue acting as the protagonists...

They shared the same glory and the same disgrace.

"What is the progress on laying the tracks for the armored train?" Georg suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question.

Knobelsdorff processed it for a moment and immediately replied: "According to the engineer unit's report yesterday, at the earliest, in about a week, the armored train will be able to move along the tracks and bring Belgrade and several small outer fortress clusters within its firing range."

"One week..." Georg silently repeated the number.

"That's perfect then."

He turned and walked back to his chair.

"Draw another four infantry regiments and one artillery regiment from the Fifth Army Group's reserves and reinforce the Morin Kampfgruppe."

Knobelsdorff's pen stopped in mid-air.

"Five regiments?"

"Yes, five regiments," Georg repeated. "Four infantry, one artillery."

Knobelsdorff rapidly ran through the Fifth Army Group's current troop deployments in his head, his mouth not stopping either.

"Your Highness, will it be like last time, drawing them individually from various infantry divisions instead of directly sending an entire division over as support?"

Hearing the Chief of Staff's words, the corners of Georg's mouth lifted.

"Sir Schmidt, you still understand me best."

By drawing regiment-sized units separately from different divisions, these regiments wouldn't have their original divisional command structure wedged in the middle once they reached Morin.

Morin could directly and unifiedly command them in his capacity as the Kampfgruppe Commander, avoiding the awkward situation of being sidelined by an imported division commander.

Georg had used this move once before, and it worked very well.

However, Knobelsdorff put down his pen, his expression becoming somewhat grave.

"Your Highness, I have a few concerns I hope you will consider."

Georg made a "go ahead" gesture.

"First, drawing another five regiments... which is equivalent to a division's worth of troops, will make the Fifth Army Group's troop strength in the Belgrade direction... especially the reserve forces, a bit tight. And since the armored train won't be operational for another week, the time until then constitutes a rather dangerous window..."

Georg: "I've considered that... A one-week window is indeed a risk, but given how badly the Serbians have been beaten right now, they cannot organize an effective counterattack in the short term."

"Second..."

Knobelsdorff paused, seemingly weighing his words.

"Your Highness, we are essentially making a move on the capitals of two nations on the Balkan Peninsula simultaneously... We are still besieging Belgrade here, and now we are going to attack Bucharest there. Isn't this appetite a bit too big?"

Georg didn't answer immediately, and Major General Knobelsdorff continued: "If something goes wrong on Colonel Morin's end and the front line collapses, and these five transferred regiments are lost in it, the entire situation on the Balkan Peninsula will be affected... And as the Army Group Commander, you will have to bear the responsibility."

As the Chief of Staff of the Fifth Army Group, one of the Crown Prince's closest deputies in the army, Major General Knobelsdorff had spoken as bluntly as possible.

The tent remained quiet for several seconds.

Ultimately, Georg picked up the fountain pen on his desk and signed his name on the order draft.

The scratch of the nib on paper was exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

"I trust Sir Friedrich..."

Georg pushed the signed document over.

"From his very first battle to the present, every time he has been given the appropriate resources, he has managed to complete the mission while handing in a report card that far exceeded expectations. And this time, I am willing to bet on him again."

The Empire's Crown Prince paused, seeming to recall the words Morin had said to him previously, and added with a smile.

"If something really does go wrong... then it's my poor judgment of character, and I should be the one to bear the responsibility."

Knobelsdorff looked at the signed order, stayed silent for two seconds, and finally picked it up.

"Understood, Your Highness... I will go arrange the transfers immediately."

"Wait a moment."

Georg stopped him.

"Aside from these five reinforcing regiments, I will personally send a telegram to Dresden."

Knobelsdorff stopped and turned around.

"To explain the Morin Kampfgruppe's current situation to His Majesty and the General Staff. I will also personally endorse the decision to temporarily halt the attack."

"Your Highness..."

"Stop dawdling, go make the arrangements."

Georg waved his hand, then picked up his pen and began personally drafting the telegram to Dresden.

Knobelsdorff looked at the Crown Prince's back as he bent over to write, feeling somewhat emotional inwardly.

This young Crown Prince might still appear inexperienced politically, but in his employment of personnel and assumption of responsibility, he truly possessed some of the traits of those famous commanders in Saxon history.

By the time Dresden received the urgent telegram from the Balkan front, it was already noon that day.

From the moment the Morin Kampfgruppe transmitted it until it reached the Imperial capital, this telegram spent nearly twelve hours in transit. It passed through the pass radio station, the Fifth Army Group communications center, rear relay stations, before finally landing on a desk in the General Staff's decoding room.

Chief of the General Staff Moltke the Younger was just preparing to go to lunch.

Though called lunch, it had actually been delayed for nearly an hour. All morning, he had been with Minister of War Falkenhayn coordinating ammunition allocation issues with the logistics department for the Eastern Front offensive.

Just as he stood up to head to the private dining room next door, a duty officer jogged in holding two telegrams.

"Your Excellency Chief of the General Staff, urgent telegrams from the Balkan front. One is sent directly from the Morin Kampfgruppe, the other from His Highness the Crown Prince."

Moltke's footsteps halted at the door.

He glanced at the two thin sheets of paper in his adjutant's hand, then at the aroma of food wafting from the end of the corridor.

Three seconds later, he chose to return to his desk.

The adjutant arranged the two telegrams chronologically and placed them on the desk. Moltke picked up Morin's first, reading it from beginning to end.

Then, as if doubting his own eyes, he read it again.

After finishing, the Chief of the General Staff, at a loss for words for a moment, set down the first telegram and immediately picked up Crown Prince Georg's. After reading it, he placed the two side-by-side.

The adjutant standing by watched the Chief of the General Staff's expression shift from confusion to contemplation, and from contemplation to something highly complex.

"Prepare the car." Moltke stood up from his chair.

"Where are you going, Your Excellency?"

"The Grand Palace... And," Moltke picked up the two telegrams and put them in his briefcase.

"Get me something to eat for the ride."

Adjutant: "...Yes, sir."

Twenty minutes later, having ungracefully scarfed down a few bites in the car, the Chief of the General Staff arrived at the Dresden Grand Palace.

The chamberlain had received a prior telephone notification from the Army General Staff, so he led him directly into Albert II's study.

Emperor Albert II was standing by the window flipping through a paperback book. The Saxon Emperor seemed to be in very good spirits today. Seeing Moltke enter, he put down the book, his expression calm.

"Helmuth, what is so urgent?"

"Your Majesty, new developments have emerged on the Balkan front."

Moltke presented the two telegrams, then concisely reported the sequence of events:

The Morin Kampfgruppe had advanced to the gates of Bucharest. Last night, while executing a combat reconnaissance mission, they discovered a large number of supernatural units suspected to be vampires within the city.

According to Colonel Morin's judgment, these supernatural units are highly likely directly linked to King Ferdinand I of Romania.

Currently, the Kampfgruppe has halted its attack and requested reinforcements.

After listening, Albert II maintained his posture holding the telegram for a long time.

"Vampires..."

The Emperor slowly placed the telegram from the Morin Kampfgruppe on the desk. A moment later, he picked up the telegram from the Crown Prince and read it again.

"Helmuth."

"Here."

"What is your opinion? Does Colonel Morin's action violate the initial operational plan?"

Moltke organized his thoughts before speaking.

"Your Majesty, looking at the Morin Kampfgruppe's entire operational process, they have executed it entirely in accordance with the submitted and approved operational plan."

"Aside from their overall pace of advance being too fast, reaching the outskirts of Bucharest ahead of schedule, there are no other discrepancies with the operational plan."

Albert II nodded without interrupting.

Moltke paused. Seeing the Emperor had no intention of speaking, he continued.

"Your Majesty, first I must clarify, I am not defending Colonel Morin or the Army's actions on the Balkan Peninsula. But it is undeniable that the fierce attacks of this Kampfgruppe have indeed created value and more tactical options for the Empire across the entire Balkan theater."

"Elaborate."

"The General Staff received the latest news from the Kingdom of Bulgaria just yesterday."

Moltke pulled another document from his briefcase.

"The main force of the Romanian Army that invaded Bulgarian territory has begun a massive withdrawal of troops... Our intelligence department confirms that since the Morin Kampfgruppe crossed the Predeal Pass, at least three division-sized units have disengaged in northeastern Bulgaria and are marching homeward."

"So the pressure on the Kingdom of Bulgaria has sharply decreased right now. They have even been able to divert more forces to other directions."

Albert II raised his hand, signaling him to continue.

"Especially in the southwestern direction of Bulgaria..."

Moltke's tone grew heavier.

"The Bulgarian army has been attacked by mage units suspected to belong to the Britannians. With the help of these mage units, the army of the Kingdom of Greece is rapidly advancing the front line... According to the latest intelligence, the enemy is not far from the capital, Sofia."

"If the Romanians continue to withdraw from Bulgaria, Bulgaria can concentrate its forces to deal with the crisis in the south, which is crucial for us to stabilize the war on the Balkan Peninsula."

Albert II leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. The Saxon Emperor was clearly pondering something.

After a period of silence, he spoke.

"If the Imperial Army continues to commit troops to the Balkans, will it affect the unfolding Eastern Front offensive?"

This question hit the crux of the matter.

The Eastern Front offensive was one of the General Staff's most important strategic operations this year. If they dispersed too many troops for the Balkan Peninsula, it would be penny wise and pound foolish.

Moltke shook his head.

"No."

His answer was crisp.

"Your Majesty, the Gauls have already withdrawn from this war... The Western Front currently only holds the Britannian Expeditionary Force. Although the First Army Group is still confronting them in northern Gaul, the pressure across the entire Western Front is a completely different concept compared to the early stages of the war."

"The Imperial Army currently has relatively ample troop strength that can be committed to other directions. Reinforcing the Balkans will not affect the preparations for the Eastern Front offensive."

Albert II didn't state his position immediately.

He picked up Morin's telegram again and reread it, his finger lingering on the words "vampires" and "Ferdinand I."

"Convene the Supreme Command. Meeting in twenty minutes."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

This temporarily convened Supreme Command meeting concluded much faster than Moltke anticipated.

Albert II spent only three minutes summarizing the situation at the start of the meeting, then asked a direct question: do we reinforce or not?

The Army naturally had no objections; Moltke had already analyzed the pros and cons very clearly.

The Navy also expressed agreement with reinforcing the Balkan Peninsula. After all, the situation in the Mediterranean had reached a critical juncture, and the situation in the Balkans would highly likely influence the ultimate actions of the Britannian Royal Navy.

The representatives from the Imperial Magitech Research Institute asked a few more questions about the details of the "vampires," but they ultimately stated that more intelligence was needed to provide specific countermeasures.

Ultimately, within half an hour, the meeting passed a resolution to increase troop reinforcements toward the Balkan Peninsula.

In addition, Emperor Albert II ordered the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to send a telegram to the ambassador to the Vatican, instructing them to inform the Papal State of the situation in Bucharest.

By the time Moltke left the Grand Palace, he felt his stomach growling again, and even a faint stomachache.

Although his doctor had repeatedly ordered him to maintain a healthier routine and ensure he ate meals on time every day...

As the direct controller of the Imperial Army, achieving this during wartime was clearly not that easy.

After returning to the car, his adjutant handed him pre-prepared sliced bread and sausage, and once again urged the old man to eat on time.

Moltke grunted, forcing himself to take a few bites, then issued a series of orders to his adjutant, one of which specifically mentioned the Imperial Military Medical Center.

"Transmit the Army General Staff's order to them. The acclimatization training for the instruction unit's first batch of modification subjects is suspended effective today. All qualified personnel are to return to the front line immediately."