Trenches, Guns, and Magic

Inside the council chamber of the Bucharest Old Royal Palace, Ferdinand I sat on a high-backed chair at the end of the room. The long table before him was flanked by converted officers and members of the "Bloodstone" secret society.

The telegram and its copies spread across the table had been read and reread multiple times by several people.

The wording of the telegram sent by General Popovich, commander of the returning reinforcement force from the Bulgarian front, was impeccably polite in every single word.

"...The entire army swears loyalty unto death to Your Majesty and will do our utmost to advance toward the capital..."

"...The troops have suffered significant attrition during continuous marching and encounter battles, and are currently undergoing necessary rest and reorganization..."

"...I implore Your Majesty to hold out for a few more days; my unit is awaiting follow-up forces drawn from the Bulgarian front..."

Major General Van placed the telegram back on the table without speaking.

But every militarily trained person present read the meaning behind the words and felt a wave of despair.

Originally, they thought they could rely on the power of the vampires to hold out until reinforcements arrived, and then launch a joint counterattack against the Saxons.

But now, the reinforcements were practically one step away, yet couldn't break through this final twenty or thirty kilometers no matter what, and instead suffered massive casualties themselves...

The council chamber remained quiet for a long time. Finally, Major General Van spoke up.

"Your Majesty, the military has a proposal."

Ferdinand I raised a hand, signaling him to speak.

"Concentrate all our power... including the strength of the Blood Thralls and Blood Servants, and break out of the city under the cover of night."

Major General Van walked to the sandbox and drew a line across the Saxon defense line with his pointer.

"The main force of the Saxons has moved south to intercept the reinforcements. They seem to have completely besieged Bucharest, but in reality, their forces are stretched very thin."

"If we concentrate all Blood Thralls and Blood Servants to breakthrough at a single point, while simultaneously concentrating a large number of armed forces to launch feints from other directions to pin them down... there is a certain probability we can tear open a gap."

"And after we break out?" Ferdinand I asked, his expression unchanged.

"Rendezvous with General Popovich's forces and launch a pincer attack from front and rear against the Saxon troops blocking our reinforcements..."

Even though Major General Van had been converted into a Blood Thrall, his tone remained steady and decisive, characteristic of a professional soldier.

"Even if we cannot route the enemy in one fell swoop, we can at least establish a connection with the reinforcements and not remain trapped in this dead city waiting for death."

This plan caused the officers present to nod in agreement. From a purely military perspective, it was indeed the most logical choice at the moment.

But just as Major General Van finished speaking, an old, hoarse voice came from the other side of the long table.

"No."

The leader of the secret society, Ceaușescu, suddenly voiced his opposition. Although he leaned on a black wooden cane, his physical condition was actually rapidly recovering since being converted into a High-Tier Vampire.

"Bucharest is the capital of the Empire... It absolutely cannot be abandoned."

Major General Van turned around and stared at the leader of the "Bloodstone" secret society.

"Your Excellency Ceaușescu, I highly respect your position by His Majesty's side... But forgive me for being blunt, the capital is merely a title. The city will remain here; it won't run away... If we break out, there will always come a day to retake it in the future."

"But if everyone dies here, then we will have nothing."

Ceaușescu shook his head and repeated: "We cannot leave."

Major General Van's patience had been severely depleted over these past few days. Coupled with his original strong aversion to Ceaușescu, who acted like a "court jester," he stepped forward directly, his voice rising half a pitch.

"Why? Give me a reason... A reason for me and the soldiers in this city to die here!"

Other members of the secret society immediately stepped in front of Ceaușescu, and the air between the two sides suddenly grew tense.

"The capital is the foundation of the nation—"

"Save those grand words!"

Major General Van directly interrupted a society member speaking opposite him.

"What exactly are you hiding? From the very beginning, you've been doing shady things behind everyone's backs... His Majesty's conversion, the creation of vampire creatures, the missing civilians in the city..."

He turned to Ferdinand I, resting his hand on the hilt of his saber at his waist, and bowed slightly.

"Your Majesty, we are soldiers, we do not fear death... But the soldiers staying behind to defend the capital are also human... If they are to die, at least let them die knowing why."

The council chamber fell into silence once again.

Sitting on the high-backed chair, Ferdinand I kept his eyes closed. His facial expression was obscure in the candlelight.

After a long while, he opened those scarlet pupils, and the corners of his mouth actually curled up slightly.

"Gentlemen, it's been a long time since this council chamber was this lively, ever since the nobles and politicians evacuated."

This sentence stunned everyone. No one expected the King to utter such a phrase at a time like this.

But immediately following, Ferdinand I's tone shifted drastically.

His gaze fell upon Ceaușescu, an icy, oppressive aura pouring down from his high position.

"Ceaușescu..."

The old man's body trembled violently.

"Tell them, tell everyone, the true reason you oppose leaving Bucharest."

This was a direct command from a Vampire Superior to all other vampire creatures.

Ceaușescu's lips quivered violently, the veins on his forehead bulging. He hunched over, looking as if he were trying to resist something.

But he ultimately could not resist the "direct command" given by Ferdinand I... This was completely different from the little tricks he had played behind the King's back previously.

A few seconds later, the old man slowly straightened up, his voice squeezed out word by word from between his teeth.

"Bucharest... is the vessel of the 'Blood River'."

Major General Van frowned. He had never heard the term "Blood River."

Ceaușescu continued speaking, every sentence seeming to extract something from his body.

"The Blood River is the final power left here by the Progenitor... It exists deep underground in this city and is the source of all our vampire power."

"His Majesty's conversion, the creation of Blood Servants, including everything my 'Bloodstone' Society has secretly maintained in Romania for hundreds of years... all rely on the existence of the Blood River."

"People may leave Bucharest, but the Blood River cannot be taken away..."

The old man's voice became extremely hoarse, and the council chamber was dead silent at this moment.

"The Saxons already know of the existence of vampires. If we abandon this city... given the current relationship between the Saxon Empire and the Vatican, the latter will definitely send people here... When that happens, the 'Blood River' will be completely lost."

"Our foundation of hundreds of years will be utterly destroyed!"

After Ceaușescu said the last few words, it was as if all the strength had been drained from him.

He then slowly turned around, leading the members of the secret society to kneel before Ferdinand I.

"Your Majesty... Please activate the Blood River."

"As long as the Blood River is fully activated, this city will be an impregnable fortress... Even if the Saxons have an army of millions, it will be absolutely impossible for them to cross the domain of the Blood River."

Major General Van stood rooted to the spot, his fists clenching so hard they popped. His brain was working at top speed, trying to digest every piece of information in those words.

Ferdinand I, however, looked down at Ceaușescu kneeling on the floor, remaining silent for a long time.

The day after the Romanian reinforcements were repelled, the battlefield finally fell quiet.

Judging from the aerial photos taken by Richthofen and his team that morning, the remnants of Popovich's three divisions had retreated a considerable distance, currently contracting southeast along several country dirt roads.

There were no signs of assembly at their previous positions, much less any movements to push their artillery forward.

"They won't be coming back in the short term." Morin, resting in his tent, put down the newly delivered aerial reconnaissance photos and offered his judgment to Kleist beside him.

Kleist nodded, also holding several freshly developed aerial reconnaissance photos in his hand.

"The opponent already suffered significant losses when forcing their assault on our positions. After being 'bloomed from the center' by the Thunder Warriors, their reserves and forward command were thrown into chaos... Any normal commander would have to stop and properly lick their wounds."

"And they will likely wait for more troops to be withdrawn from the Bulgarian front line, at least obtaining a numerical advantage before making another move."

Morin nodded and walked toward the command tent.

Kleist kept pace with him, casually pulling a telegram from his pocket.

"Commander, two more pieces of news."

"Speak."

"First, the vanguard of Lieutenant General Marwitz's forces has arrived at the forward base we built previously in Ploiești, riding Romanian trains captured at the station near the river valley exit. They are currently unloading supplies and equipment... The follow-up troops are expected to be fully in place within two days."

Morin gave an "Mhm."

"Second, the people from the Holy See have also departed. They took a transport airship from Vienna. Calculating the time, they should be halfway here by now."

"Who did the Holy See send? Does the rear have more intelligence?"

"Yes."

Kleist pulled out another telegram paper and handed it over, while telling Morin: "Not many people came this time, the total number doesn't exceed a hundred. They belong to a department within the Vatican system whose full name is 'Congregatio pro Exorcismis et Purificatione'... meaning 'Congregation for Exorcism and Purification'."

Morin took the telegram and scanned it, his footsteps pausing slightly.

"Congregation for Exorcism and Purification..."

"There's not much information about this department in the intelligence from the rear. It only mentions that it's a rather special existence within the Holy See system, and publicly available information is almost zero," Kleist added.

Morin said nothing, but his eyes were already looking at the newly refreshed entry regarding this department in the system's [Information] interface.

There wasn't a lot of related content, only knowing that the history of this "Congregation for Exorcism and Purification" could be traced back to the beginning of the "Witch Hunts" in this world's Middle Ages.

The Holy See at the time, in order to deal with the threat of various supernatural powers... especially spellcasters who were still considered "heretics" back then, specially formed this department, which functioned like a militant monastic order.

Witch Hunts...

Morin couldn't help but let a thought flash through his mind.

"Don't tell me these guys are sworn enemies with mages..."

He shook his head, pulled his attention back, and looked at Kleist again: "What is the attitude of His Highness the Crown Prince and the General Staff?"

"Both sides sent dedicated telegrams..."

Kleist was clearly prepared and answered immediately.

"His Highness the Crown Prince's wording was relatively tactful... 'Welcoming all forces that help resolve the Romanian vampire issue to participate in coordination.' The General Staff was slightly more direct. The core meaning of both sides is about the same, but they specifically emphasized one point."

"The frontline command authority remains unchanged. Visiting personnel from the Holy See must submit to the unified coordination of the Kampfgruppe."

Morin nodded; this was the key point.

No matter who the Holy See sent, as long as they stepped into the Kampfgruppe's operational area, they had to listen to his arrangements.

On this point, both the General Staff and the Crown Prince backed him up, saving him a lot of potential trouble.

After wrapping up the topic of the Holy See, Morin and Kleist walked all the way back to the command tent behind the positions.

Manstein, Paulus, and some other Kampfgruppe officers were already waiting inside. Spread out on the table before everyone was a large-scale battlefield situation map, densely marked with various symbols in red and blue pencil.

After entering, Morin didn't waste words and stood directly in front of the map.

"Let's hear it. How do you think the other side will move next?"

Paulus spoke first: "Looking at the battlefield situation, there is a severe information asymmetry between us and the opponent."

"We grasp the overall situation... the specific location, troop composition, and marching route of the Romanian reinforcements, as well as all situations inside Bucharest, including the vampire problem."

"Conversely, the opposing commander only knows that the Saxon Army is attacking Bucharest, but doesn't know exactly how many troops we have, much less what exactly is happening inside the city..."

Manstein nodded, picking up Paulus's thread: "The commander of these Romanian reinforcements has certainly made contact with the city. However, that Ferdinand I in the city absolutely wouldn't dare tell the reinforcements the truth about the vampires."

Hearing this, Morin couldn't help but smile.

"True... If the commander of the Romanian reinforcements knew the King he was desperately trying to save had turned into a vampire, would his 'Romanian brothers' still be willing to pledge this loyalty? Forget continuing the attack; they'd be doing well not to turn around and run."

The few men in the tent all laughed.

"So I dare bet, the other side is completely blind right now."

Morin rested his hands on the edge of the table, scanning the officers present.

"The reinforcements were battered and don't dare move. They don't know the real situation in the city... Under this situation, we can calmly wait for Lieutenant General Marwitz's troops to arrive and complete the final encirclement."

"When that time comes, those inside can't get out, those outside can't get in; Bucharest will be a dead end."

Having said this, Morin straightened up, turned his back to the map, and stretched lazily toward the distant direction of Bucharest.

"A siege... is child's play!"

The words were still in his mouth when the smile froze on his face.

His body tensed abruptly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

An extremely intense magical fluctuation erupted suddenly from behind him...

...that is, from the direction of Bucharest.

This feeling... belonged to the same category as the concealed pulsation he felt near the Old Royal Palace when he infiltrated the city for reconnaissance.

But the scale was not on the same order of magnitude.

"Commander?" Kleist was the first to notice Morin's anomaly.

Morin didn't answer him.

A few seconds later, Kleist didn't need an answer either, because everyone present stepped outside the tent and saw the anomaly.

In the direction of the horizon, where the city of Bucharest lay, a blood-red pillar of light shot up from the ground, as if forcibly extracted from deep within the earth's crust by some power.

After shooting into mid-air, that pillar of light didn't dissipate. Instead, it began to spread in all directions, unfolding in the sky, ultimately forming a massive, cloud-like curtain radiating an ominous luster.

The curtain was still slowly expanding. Dark red patterns constantly writhed at the edges of the blood-red "cloud layer," looking incredibly eerie. Even the air became somewhat sickly sweet and metallic...

A cacophony of voices arose around the command tent. The Saxon soldiers on the positions dropped their work, staring blankly at the spreading blood-red expanse in the northern sky.

Morin's system [Intelligence] interface refreshed at that exact moment.

[Warning: The 'Blood River' within the city of Bucharest has been activated.]

Manstein also looked at Morin at this time, clearly trembling as he spoke: "C... Commander, what is happening?"

Morin looked at the blood-red sky in the distance and let out a long sigh.

"The big one is coming..."

That same day, the Mediterranean Sea.

The L23 Armored Transport Assault Airship was cruising slowly at an altitude of six hundred meters.

The weather was excellent, cloudless.

The azure sea reflected the afternoon sun like crushed gold. Occasionally, a few distant merchant ships could be seen trailing white wakes, heading in different directions.

Since they were not in combat status, most of the crew on the airship were enjoying a rare half-day off.

Some were flipping through old newspapers from weeks ago in hammocks, some were playing cards in the deck interlayers, and the cooks in the galley were beginning to prepare ingredients for dinner.

The only ones who couldn't slack off were the soldiers of the observation watch.

A hemispherical steel-framed glass observation post hung beneath the airship's bottom deck, providing an extremely expansive field of view.

And under special circumstances, when the armored airship was hidden in the clouds, this observation post could be lowered on steel cables below the cloud layer for reconnaissance.

The lookout crouching inside right now was named Herbert, a young man from Bavaria. He was using a bulky Leitz aerial telescope aimed at a location forty kilometers away on the horizon.

That was the Holy Britannia Empire's Malta Naval Base.

Herbert adjusted the focus, keeping the outline of the port clear in the lenses... the breakwaters, lighthouses, the blurry structures of cranes on the docks, and the black silhouettes of ships inside the harbor.

The magical detection equipment nearby was running quietly, operated silently by a magitech technician of the observation watch. The slender needle on its dashboard occasionally jumped a couple of times before returning to stillness.

Herbert neatly filled his observations into a report form, then had someone deliver it to the upper deck.

The report quickly reached the hands of Captain Madeleine, the duty officer on the bridge.

Madeleine scanned the contents: No sign of ships entering or leaving the port, magical fluctuations within normal range.

Exactly the same as the report two hours ago.

And the same as four hours ago, or rather, the same as the previous four reconnaissance reports...

After confirming it was correct, Captain Madeleine signed his name at the bottom of the report and placed it in the document rack beside the bridge.

Everything was proceeding methodically, as stable as could be.

He was just about to go get a drink to refresh himself from his afternoon drowsiness when the cabin door behind him was pushed open.

The captain of the L23, Lieutenant Colonel Fred, walked onto the bridge.

Right now, his uniform jacket was half-open. He looked like he had just come from the captain's rest cabin, except his face lacked any of the relaxation of a post-nap stupor; instead, it carried an indescribable irritability.

"Lieutenant Colonel."

Madeleine gave up the duty station and casually handed over the newly received reconnaissance report.

"So far everything is normal. The fleet in the direction of Malta is still inactive."

Fred took the report, looked at it for a few seconds, then raised his head.

"Since when has it been 'normal'?"

Madeleine was stunned by the question. After recalling for a moment, he answered: "Uh... Since we took over the rotation from L30, every report has been like this..."

Fred slapped the report onto the navigation console, walked to the viewing window on the side of the bridge, and stood with his hands on his hips, gazing in the direction of Malta for a while.

"Madeleine, do you remember the last reported content from L30 before we took over?"

Madeleine thought for a moment, then dug out the handover information passed over by the L30 airship from the bottom of the document rack.

"About twenty hours ago, L30 observed the last batch of suspected cargo ships entering the port of Malta. Since then, no ships have entered or left the port."

"Correct." Fred turned his head. "Twenty hours. Not a single ship has come out, and no new ones have gone in."

Madeleine opened his mouth.

"Lieutenant Colonel, perhaps they are just conducting routine maintenance inside the port? Rumor has it the Britannian Mediterranean Fleet might be making a major move during this period, so they are doing prep work in advance?"

"That's exactly the problem. Everyone knows the Mediterranean won't be peaceful recently... So this overly quiet naval port seems somewhat abnormal..."

Lieutenant Colonel Fred's words left Captain Madeleine speechless. Another duty officer on the bridge, the Aviation Officer, Captain Julian, also came over at this time and interjected.

"Lieutenant Colonel, there are indeed fluctuations in the port's magical detection, but both the intensity and frequency are within the 'normal value' range."

"According to the intelligence we received before departure, the Britannian Mediterranean Fleet has high-circle accompanying mages in its organization, and large-scale anti-air magical devices are deployed within the port area. Some magical readings are reasonable."

Fred didn't refute immediately, but fell silent, pondering something.

Just then, a communications officer arrived on the bridge, handing a newly received telegram to Lieutenant Colonel Fred.

After reading the contents, the latter's expression grew even more serious.

"You two take a look at this too..."

Madeleine and Julian leaned in. It was a telegram received by the airship's communications cabin, originating from the Imperial Air Force Mediterranean Cruise Command.

The content was very simple: The L31 armored airship, tasked with surveillance over Oran Port, where the main force of the Gallic Navy was docked, encountered a storm on its route three hours ago. It was forced to alter course, temporarily halting its operation toward Oran Port.

Madeleine didn't have much reaction after reading it. An airship altering course due to severe weather was something that happened occasionally when they were previously deployed in the North Sea.

But a few seconds later, realizing the implication, the expressions of Captain Madeleine and Aviation Officer Julian changed.

"Wait... encountering a storm in the Mediterranean?"

Lieutenant Colonel Fred: "It's early June now. The Mediterranean is under the control of the Azores High in early summer. It's the period with the lowest probability of storms all year... And L31's route was along the North African coastline, not passing through any known anomalous weather zones."

Madeleine and Julian exchanged a glance.

"Lieutenant Colonel, are you saying... that wasn't a natural storm?" Julian said in a low voice.

"I'm not sure."

Fred shook his head.

"But two things happening together doesn't seem right... The port of Malta suddenly goes dead quiet, while simultaneously the airship assigned to monitor Oran Port happens to be 'blocked' by a storm..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning was clear.

If the silence at the port of Malta and the storm L31 encountered were neither coincidences, then there was only one possibility: someone didn't want the Saxon Empire's airships to see something.

Madeleine's hand instinctively reached for a control lever on the wall at the back of the bridge.

"Lieutenant Colonel, your orders?"

Lieutenant Colonel Fred fell silent for three seconds, then made a decision.

"General quarters for the entire ship."

The piercing alarm shattered the tranquility of the L23 airship's half-day off.

Soldiers in hammocks rolled onto the floor. Card players flipped their tables, not even having time to gather their winnings, and ran toward their battle stations.

Soon, the L23 armored airship, originally in routine cruise status, entered combat readiness.

Lieutenant Colonel Fred stood dead center on the bridge, issuing his first combat order of this cruise.

"Lower altitude to three hundred meters. Alter heading toward Malta."

"Flank speed ahead. Commence close-in reconnaissance."

As Madeleine stood before the navigation console relaying the orders, a layer of cold sweat had already seeped out on his back.

Close-in reconnaissance meant they would be approaching the attack range of the opponent's port-based large anti-air magical devices and the fleet's mages. If there were no anomalies with the Britannians in Malta, this would be an extremely dangerous move.

The engine roar of the L23 armored airship abruptly spiked. The massive hull slowly turned in the air, bearing down on the naval port forty kilometers away that had been silent for a full twenty hours.