Chapter 320: A Parting Gift

The winter of 1914 seemed to arrive unusually early.

During the time Morin was busy leading the instruction unit in intensive training, the calendar on his desk was turned to the last page, and Koblenz saw its first snow.

Although the temperature dropped sharply, the intensity of the war showed no signs of cooling down.

The war machine of the Saxon Empire had completely operated to its limit. According to news circulating within the Army Department, as well as the constantly updated content in Morin’s [Intelligence] and [Information] tabs, since the war began, the Saxon Empire had completed the mobilization of more than 5.8 million soldiers.

This was a scalp-numbing number.

Even the Britannians, possessing vast colonies, failed to mobilize such a huge number of troops in a short time.

Those young and middle-aged men who had just put down hoes, wrenches, or even pointers, after brief and rough training, were sent to the Western Front like coal shoveled into a boiler, shovel after shovel.

Fortunately, the ally to the south, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, after turning an active offensive into a homeland defense war, finally stabilized the defense line in the border area relying on fortress groups.

Currently, it was forming a fragile stalemate with the Kingdom of Serbia, temporarily not needing the Saxon Empire to divert troops to “put out fires.”

But news from various intelligence channels was warning the high command of the Saxon Empire and the Austro-Hungarian Empire—the enemies on the Balkans might soon be more than just the Kingdom of Serbia…

Northwest of Paris, the First Army Group commanded by General Mackensen, after receiving troop replenishment and support from a temporarily formed combat group, engaged in a long trench standoff with the Britannian Expeditionary Force, which had increased its troops to 600,000.

And the Britannian transport ships on the English Channel showed no sign of decreasing.

More and more troops from the main island or other colonies were constantly landing…

In the Southern Theater, the Gallic desperate counterattack, betting on the nation’s fate, was finally ruthlessly forced back under the blows of a large number of railway guns, fortresses, and superior forces deployed by the Saxons.

More and more Saxon mobilized troops completed assembly and reinforced the Southern Theater. The last main force of the Gallic Republic Army had lost the ability to continue attacking, and the battle line was gradually pushed back within its borders.

Although relying on the power of “Sentinel” units and accompanying mage corps, the Gauls could still achieve some tactical victories in local areas.

But from the perspective of the entire strategic situation, they were already in an irreversible disadvantage.

Some rumors were even circulating in the upper circles of various European countries. It was said that within the Gallic Republic government, which had moved to Bordeaux, voices of the “peace faction” had appeared, proposing to start ceasefire negotiations with the Saxon Empire.

At the same time, another part of the Gauls seemed determined to continue moving to North Africa to resist…

But no matter what, one point had become the consensus of the high command of various European countries—the war in the south was no longer the focus.

The final direction of the entire Western Front would depend on this unprecedented showdown about to erupt between the Saxon Empire and the Britannian Expeditionary Force.

Both sides tacitly dug trenches deeper and longer, as if to turn the entire northern part of Western Europa into a huge fortress zone.

At the same time, behind these trenches stretching hundreds of kilometers, both warring parties placed more and more chips.

On such a bitterly cold early December day, several military Radiant Crystal Trucks drove into the camp of the instruction unit.

When the vehicles stopped, a bunch of familiar figures jumped down from the passenger seats and truck beds.

“Sir! Klaus reporting to you!”

The former acting company commander, Klaus, who now wore the rank of Second Lieutenant on his shoulders, stood neatly in front of Morin and saluted with other officers and non-commissioned officers who had also completed their studies.

They completed their respective study tasks ahead of schedule at the Potsdam Military Academy. The “old soldier ruffian” aura on them faded a lot, replaced by the capability of professional officers.

Looking at these old subordinates, Morin felt much more at ease.

“Good to be back.”

Morin returned a military salute, his gaze sweeping over these mature or young faces.

“The bread in Potsdam is nourishing… look at you, all fattened up. Hope you haven’t forgotten how to lead troops.”

“Report sir, I haven’t forgotten!” Klaus grinned, revealing white teeth, “Just itchy hands, want to touch guns… I didn’t expect so few shooting courses in the military academy.”

“There will be opportunities.” Morin patted his shoulder, “Go to the barracks. The unit organization has been adjusted. You are all proper officers now, don’t embarrass me.”

With the return of this batch of backbone officers, the reorganization work of the instruction unit finally came to an end.

Currently, the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Companies of the former Instruction Assault Battalion became the backbone and main force of the three infantry battalions of the current instruction unit.

The 4th Company was disbanded to fill the framework of the three infantry battalions and regimental units.

And the new recruits and veterans added later thoroughly filled the vacancies…

It was also at this juncture that Morin took an evening off to visit Cecilia’s manor in Koblenz.

This Radiant Crystal Queen had returned to Koblenz at some point and specially wrote a letter to be delivered to the camp, asking Morin to come back for dinner, saying she had a gift for him.

In the evening, Morin changed into a brand-new service uniform and took the vehicle waiting at the camp gate to the manor.

The manor was quiet, no banquets, no guests.

Only a few candles were lit in the dining room. The soft candlelight reflected on the silver tableware, emitting a warm luster.

Cecilia sat at one end of the long table, wearing a wine-red long dress, her hair simply tied behind her head, revealing her slender neck.

She looked much better than the last time they met, only a trace of indissoluble worry remained between her brows.

“Here?” She put down the wine glass in her hand and beckoned to Morin, “Sit over here.”

Morin sat down next to her as told.

Dinner was sumptuous, all dishes Morin loved, but both ate very slowly and somewhat silently. Finally, Cecilia spoke first.

“I received some news that large-scale fighting might break out on the Western Front. Friedrich, will your unit…”

“Not clear for now, Sister Cecilia…” Morin shook his head, “But judging from the current situation, the unit moving out again should be sooner or later.”

“…”

Cecilia sighed softly and didn’t say anything more.

But an atmosphere of impending separation, like a layer of invisible gauze, shrouded the two.

When the waiter cleared the plates, Head Maid Luna walked in carrying a long wooden box and placed it gently on the table in front of Morin.

The wooden box was made of fine walnut, varnished on the surface, emitting a faint woody fragrance.

“Open it and take a look.” Cecilia rested her chin on one hand, looking at Morin.

Morin looked at her somewhat puzzledly, then reached out and undid the copper clasp on the wooden box.

As the lid opened, lying on the black velvet lining was an exquisite over-under double-barreled shotgun that was simply like a work of art.

The stock used top-quality wood, polished to a shine.

The receiver part was gold-plated, engraved with intricate wild ducks and hunting scenes with exquisite craftsmanship.

This was not a military weapon but an expensive toy belonging to nobles.

“This—” Morin reached out and stroked the cold barrel, the unique texture of metal coming from his fingertips.

“I custom-ordered this from Krieghoff Company.” Cecilia said softly, “I know you like those new automatic rifles, but this gun is different…”

She reached out and covered the back of Morin’s hand.

“In our family’s tradition, when a man is going to the battlefield, the woman will give him the best shotgun.”

Cecilia’s voice was very light, echoing in the empty dining room.

“Not for you to use it to kill enemies, but hoping you can be like a hunter, always stay alert, avoid those deadly traps, and then—return home safely with prey.”

Morin’s heart moved.

He raised his head, meeting Cecilia’s gray-blue eyes. The emotion inside was too strong, making him dare not look directly for a moment.

“Thank you—this gift is too precious.” Morin said somewhat clumsily, “And this kind of shotgun actually has special uses on the battlefield too~”

“Really? As long as it helps you. Originally thought just leaving it at your garrison would be fine. If it can go to the front line with you now, that’s even better…”

Cecilia looked at his cautious appearance and suddenly smiled.

That momentary smile was like melting ice and snow, so bright that people couldn’t look away.

“So Sister Cecilia, you said in the letter you had a gift for me, is it this?” Morin asked softly.

This lecherous person who knew the taste actually thought crookedly when hearing there was a gift.

So seeing the gift was a shotgun now, Morin still felt a little regret in his heart.

Of course, the obvious expression change on his face allowed Cecilia to guess his thoughts instantly.

She waved her hand. Luna, who had been guarding by the side, understood, quietly exited the dining room, and closed the heavy oak door.

Only the two of them were left in the room.

Cecilia stood up and walked to Morin.

Morin just wanted to stand up but was held down by her on the shoulders.

“Sit still.”

As Cecilia spoke, she actually turned sideways and sat directly on Morin’s lap.

In this era that stressed etiquette, this was an extremely bold, even outrageous action.

Morin stiffened all over, his hands subconsciously hovering around her waist, not knowing where to put them.

The faint scent of perfume on her body lingered at the tip of his nose, mixed with the mellow aroma of wine, making one slightly intoxicated.

“Friedrich, did you think—”

Cecilia extended her arms, wrapped around Morin’s neck, leaned close to his ear, warm breath spraying on his earlobe.

“Is the gift only that gun?”

Morin’s Adam’s apple rolled up and down.

“Sister Cecilia, actually I didn’t mean that—Mmh!”

Just as he wanted to explain something, his lips were blocked by softness.

All unspoken words were swallowed by this kiss.

Morin tightened his arms, hugging this soft and fiery body tightly to himself, turning passive into active to deepen this kiss.

The candlelight in the dining room flickered, pulling the shadows of the two very long, finally overlapping together, indistinguishable from each other.

…

Early morning a few days later.

The military camp in Koblenz was awakened by the urgent sound of telegraphs.

In the wireless radio room of the Regimental Communications Company, Guderian watched the telegraph operator’s fingers flying, converting strings of boring codes into text.

A few minutes later, a telegram sheet still smelling of ink was sent to the Regimental Headquarters by Guderian.

Morin was standing in front of the window at this time, holding a cup of steaming coffee, watching the soldiers doing morning exercises outside the window.

“Sir, urgent telegram from the General Staff.”

Kleist walked in quickly with Guderian and handed over the telegram.

Morin put down the cup, took the telegram, and glanced at it.

“[Secret — Urgent]

Order the Imperial Guard Instruction Assault Unit to complete personnel assembly and material loading within 24 hours, and board vehicles to depart at 0730 hours on December 15th.

Destination: Buchy, 30 km east of Rouen.

Army General Staff Operations Department 1, 0700 hours, December 14, 1914″

(End of Chapter)