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    Just as Morin was commanding the Instruction Assault Battalion to prepare for what might be the first truly ‘Motorized March’ in this world.

    Far away in the Saxon Empire homeland, Moltke the Younger, who had moved the General Staff forward headquarters to Koblenz, was receiving the latest military intelligence from the various Army Groups on the Western Front.

    In the Operations Room, Moltke the Younger stood before a massive map of the Western Front, holding a long pointer, listening to the Operations Staff Officer report on the progress of each front line one by one.

    “Reporting, Chief of the General Staff, the First Army Group commanded by General Mackensen has made smooth progress since the official engagement on August 4th.”

    “They successfully crushed the main force of the Grand Duchy of Flanders’ Northern Army Group in a field battle. The subordinate Teutonic Knights virtually annihilated the Grand Duchy of Flanders’ ‘Order of the Golden Fleece’ at minimal cost.”

    “Currently, the enemy forces in the North have retreated across the entire Rosendaal – Breda – ‘s-Hertogenbosch – Nijmegen line, consolidating inside the cities, showing no signs of engaging.”

    “General Mackensen stated in his telegram that he has left a portion of his force to observe the enemy and protect the Army Group’s rear lines of communication, waiting for follow-up reserve units to reinforce the line… while his main force has adjusted its direction of attack.”

    The Operations Staff Officer pointed to Antwerp on the map and continued:

    “A portion of the forces will adopt a strategy of ‘besieging without attacking’ Antwerp to pin down the enemy. The other main force will bypass this city and drive straight for the Flanders-Gallic Republic border.”

    “General Mackensen also mentioned that, according to military intelligence, the Britannian Expeditionary Force may land in the Dunkirk area. He stated that if the timing is right, he will seize the opportunity to deliver a head-on blow to the Britannian forces while they are still establishing a foothold.”

    After hearing the report on the First Army Group, Moltke the Younger nodded in satisfaction.

    General Mackensen, who was temporarily reassigned before the war, had not failed his expectations. He was fast and fierce in his execution, fully demonstrating the qualities expected of an excellent commander.

    “What about the Third Army Group and Fourth Army Group?” he asked.

    “The Third and Fourth Army Groups also rapidly penetrated the Grand Duchy of Flanders’ territory within these two days and have currently reached the Gallic Republic border, awaiting subsequent orders.”

    “Very good.” A slight smile appeared on Moltke the Younger’s face.

    Since the war began, everything had proceeded as he had planned, or even more smoothly than anticipated.

    “And the Second Army Group?” he asked, posing the question he was most concerned about.

    “Reporting, Chief of the General Staff! The Second Army Group reports that they completely captured the Liège Fortress cluster this morning!”

    This news elicited a chorus of suppressed gasps across the Operations Room.

    Moltke the Younger himself was stunned, involuntarily tightening his grip on the pointer he was holding.

    The Liège Fortress was the point he worried about most before the war.

    He had even mentally prepared for the Second Army Group to be hopelessly bogged down beneath Liège City, unable to execute the subsequent plan according to schedule.

    But now, they had captured this formidable city in just two short days?

    “What did the telegram say?”

    “The telegram mentioned that General Ludendorff, Deputy Chief of Staff for the Second Army Group, adopted the suggestion of Captain Morin, Battalion Commander of the Imperial Guards First Instruction Assault Battalion, upon arriving at the front, and organized a… uh… Air Drop Assault last night.”

    The Operations Staff Officer clearly hesitated when saying the term ‘Air Drop Assault,’ seeming unsure about this novel concept.

    “Twenty soldiers of the Instruction Assault Battalion, led by Captain Morin, used Armored Airships to land directly inside the Liège Fortress from the sky.”

    “They ultimately succeeded in destroying the enemy’s Command Post and Magic Power Hub, causing massive confusion among the garrison, and creating a decisive opportunity for our main force’s general assault.”

    “Instruction Assault Battalion Air Drop…”

    Moltke the Younger chewed repeatedly on these words.

    His mind couldn’t help but recall the experience of accompanying the Crown Prince to Potsdam to observe the Instruction Assault Battalion’s exercises.

    He also remembered the young Battalion Commander who showed astonishing tactical genius during the exercise, and the soldiers under him who were entirely different from other Imperial Soldiers, filled with high fighting spirit.

    At the time, he had felt that some of the Crown Prince’s tactical concepts were too idealistic.

    But now, it seemed he was the one who was outdated.

    “Perhaps… Mr. Schlieffen’s strategic hypothesis can truly be realized this time.”

    An unprecedented sense of pride surged through Moltke the Younger’s heart.

    He turned around, and reread the operational timetable, which was precise down to the day.

    According to the final officially issued plan from the General Staff:

    Within 12 days of the mobilization order on August 1st, the passage through the Grand Duchy of Flanders must be fully opened.

    On the 19th day, Brussels is to be occupied, isolating the northern enemy forces and completely neutralizing the threat to their own lines of communication.

    On the 22nd day, the main force enters Gallic Republic territory.

    On the 39th day, Paris is to be captured!

    If these initial operations were all successfully achieved, the Saxon Army would form an unprecedented, massive arc of encirclement within the Gallic Republic.

    The grand tactical vision of eliminating most of the Gallic effective force within seven weeks would very likely be realized!

    Meanwhile, in the Ardennes Forest region.

    Crown Prince Georg, commander of the Fifth Army Group—or the ‘Crown Prince Georg Army Group’—also received battle reports from the other Army Groups.

    When he saw the Instruction Assault Battalion rampaging through the Second Army Group’s order of battle, helping the Second Army Group to ‘speedrun’ the Liège Fortress in an almost mythical fashion…

    The Crown Prince’s mood became extremely complex.

    On one hand, he felt genuine pride and glory for the brilliant achievement of the unit he had personally cultivated.

    But on the other hand, an indescribable bitterness and regret surged into his heart.

    He regretted not insisting more strongly, arguing logically, to transfer the Instruction Assault Battalion to his own Fifth Army Group.

    The feeling of having the peach he had painstakingly grown picked by someone else…

    And picked so cleanly, so earth-shatteringly, left a very sour taste in Georg’s mouth.

    “Morin, Morin, how wonderful it would have been if you and the Instruction Assault Battalion were under my command…”

    He couldn’t help but sigh softly.

    August 7th Morning, Britannia, Southampton Port.

    The docks were bustling with people, and ship whistles blew loudly.

    Giant troop transports and cargo ships were moored at the berths, and countless Britannian soldiers in khaki uniforms were boarding the ships in neat lines.

    They were the vanguard of the Holy Britannian Empire Expeditionary Force, about to cross the Channel to the Continent to fulfill their promise to their ‘ally.’

    By the window of a building in the port, the Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force, Field Marshal Sir John French of the Holy Britannian Empire Army, watched everything with an expressionless face through his binoculars.

    He was an experienced old veteran, having participated in many of the Empire’s colonial wars around the world, known for his stubborn and cautious command style.

    “Field Marshal, the latest battle report from the Grand Duchy of Flanders.”

    An Aide-de-Camp walked quickly to his side and handed him a freshly translated telegram.

    French lowered his binoculars, took the telegram, and read it carefully.

    However, as he read further, the expression on his face became increasingly grim.

    “Th-this… How is this possible?!”

    When he reached the end of the telegram, he cried out in surprise, his face a mask of disbelief.

    “Field Marshal, what’s wrong?” the Aide-de-Camp asked with concern.

    French did not reply, simply handing the telegram to him.

    The Aide-de-Camp took the telegram, and after just a glance, his eyes widened similarly.

    The content of the battle report was too shocking.

    The advance speed of the Saxons had far exceeded their prior expectations.

    In the North, Flanders’ most elite ‘Order of the Golden Fleece’ had been virtually annihilated by the Saxon ‘Teutonic Knights.’

    This confirmed to French that the Saxons must have achieved some major breakthrough in Armored Knight technology; otherwise, such a disproportionate exchange ratio would be impossible.

    What shocked and puzzled him even more was the speed of the Liège Fortress’s fall.

    It resisted for less than two days!

    This cluster of formidable forts, which military experts from Britannia and Gaul had unanimously believed could ‘hold out for at least a month under a massive siege’ before the war, had been effortlessly occupied by the Saxons.

    The battle report was vague about the reason for Liège’s fall, only mentioning that ‘the Saxons employed some despicable, unprecedented Assault Tactic.’

    But regardless of the process, the result was certain.

    The loss of Liège meant that the door to the Flanders heartland, and even the Gallic border, had been flung open to the Saxons.

    “We have severely underestimated the Saxon military might…”

    French said in a dry voice.

    He realized that the Empire’s assessment of the Saxon Army, based on previous experiences from colonial conflicts, contained a fatal flaw.

    The Saxon Army before them was no longer the rigid, inflexible force they remembered.

    It had become faster, fiercer, and more imaginative.

    “General, then should we… modify the plan to execute the landing at Dunkirk?” the Aide-de-Camp asked cautiously.

    According to the original plan, the Britannian Expeditionary Force was to land at Boulogne, Calais, Le Havre, and Dunkirk.

    Then they would link up with the Flanders and Gallic armies to jointly establish a defense line in the border region to stop the Saxon offensive.

    But now, the Saxons were advancing so quickly that if they leisurely completed the landing and assembly… the situation could become dire.

    They might even run head-on into Saxon Armored Knights the moment they set foot ashore.

    French paced back and forth in the room, his brow deeply furrowed.

    He was a cautious man who never fought a battle without certainty, but the current situation no longer allowed him time for meticulous deliberation.

    Finally, he stopped and spoke in a very serious tone:

    “Immediately expedite the boarding process. We must complete the landing earlier than scheduled, or the situation will become irreversible!”

    (End of this Chapter)

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