Saxon Empire, Potsdam, Sanssouci Palace.
This Rococo palace, hailed as the “Saxon Versailles,” appeared tranquil and solemn beneath the curtain of night.
Yet that serenity was soon shattered by a flurry of hurried footsteps.
An encrypted telegram from the front lines of the Kingdom of Aragon, after two hours of transmission and translation, was finally delivered to the study of Albert II, Emperor of the Saxon Empire.
Arriving with the telegram were the hastily summoned Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Helmuth Ludwig von Moltke, and the Imperial Chancellor, Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg.
The younger Moltke’s uncle was none other than the Saxon Empire’s god of war of a generation, the elder Moltke.
Although the younger Moltke’s temperament was relatively weak, from the time he served as Albert II’s aide-de-camp, he had surpassed many men more capable than himself in various respects, and ultimately climbed to the position of Chief of the Saxon Imperial Army General Staff.
Inside the study, the flames in the fireplace burned quietly, illuminating the emperor’s slightly weary face.
Albert II took the telegram handed to him by an attendant and quickly scanned it.
When his gaze swept over the first half of the telegram, the supreme ruler of the empire’s expression instantly turned extremely grim, and the fingers gripping the telegram paper whitened slightly from the force.
But as he continued reading, the tense lines of his face gradually eased, and the personal attendant standing by his side could even hear the emperor’s relieved murmur.
“As long as he was rescued… as long as he was rescued…”
Albert II placed the telegram on the desk, leaned back in his chair, and let out a long breath.
An Imperial Army lieutenant general captured by hostile forces in a foreign land.
This was not merely a military setback; it would also have been a terrifying diplomatic disaster and a storm of public opinion.
Fortunately, the worst had not happened.
“Your Majesty, this act by the Britannians is a blatant trampling of the empire’s dignity!”
The younger Moltke’s voice broke the brief silence in the study. Though he was not particularly tall, his crisp gray military uniform still gave him an imposing air.
“To ambush our military observation group without a declaration of war—this is not merely an insult to the Saxon army, but a challenge to your authority as emperor!”
The younger Moltke stepped forward, his tone carrying unconcealed anger:
“We must make them pay! The Kingdom of Aragon is the key to extending our influence southward. It absolutely cannot fall into the hands of the Britannians! Once the ‘Royal Army’ supported by the other side wins, the Britannians’ sphere of influence will be pushed right to the empire’s doorstep!”
The Imperial Chancellor Hollweg, who had remained silent all this time, also spoke at the proper moment. His tone was calmer than the younger Moltke’s, but the weight of his words was not the least bit lighter.
“Your Majesty, the Chief of the General Staff is correct. From a political perspective, His Highness Crown Prince Alfonso once studied in the empire and advocates learning from the empire’s model of industrial development. He has always been our ideal ally. More importantly…”
Hollweg paused, then dropped a piece of heavy news.
“The latest survey report shows that in the southern mountains of the Kingdom of Aragon, a luminite vein has been discovered that may have the largest reserves on the entire Europa continent. Therefore, the nature of this civil war in the Kingdom of Aragon has, in truth, already changed completely.”
Luminite ore!
Albert II’s gaze instantly sharpened. Of course he understood what this meant.
The lifeblood of the luminite technological path upon which the Saxon Empire relied to contend with Britannia and Gaul was precisely this ore.
The largest vein in Europa was enough to completely alter the balance of power across the entire continent.
And he was also very clear that it was precisely because of this vein’s appearance that the Britannians had intervened in the civil war of the Kingdom of Aragon.
One could even say that if the Gauls were not currently busy suppressing the recent large-scale uprisings in their colonies, this country, which likewise bordered the Kingdom of Aragon, would definitely have entered the fray as well!
As for why two countries following the magical-engineering technological path would suddenly begin coveting luminite ore?
The reason was very simple.
Mines, once exploited, would run dry.
This was even more true of magic-crystal deposits, which had fallen to this planet as meteorites from beyond the heavens.
Compared with the native mineral resources of this planet, their reserves had been far smaller to begin with.
After so many years of unrestricted mining by the Britannians and the Gauls, the reserves of magic-crystal ore had long since fallen close to the red line.
Thus, these two great magical-engineering powers had in fact long wanted to adjust their paths of technological development, and the vein discovered in the Kingdom of Aragon was, to them, simply like a pillow delivered just as one was growing drowsy.
Albert II frowned, then temporarily drew back these thoughts and turned his gaze to his Chief of the General Staff.
“Helmuth, if I let you act freely, how confident are you? And one more thing—if we take the initiative to launch an attack, would that count as declaring war on Britannia?”
Hearing Albert II’s question, the younger Moltke pondered for a moment, then answered solemnly:
“Your Majesty, please believe in the training, courage, and discipline of the empire’s soldiers! As for declaring war… since the Britannians chose to fight without a declaration, why should we be constrained by such hypocritical formalities?”
On this point, Albert II did not have many objections.
Over the years, in the empire’s colonies on the African continent, conflicts with Britannia and Gaul over resources and land had never ceased; bloody armed clashes had long since become commonplace.
If war had to be declared every time, all of Europa would probably have been beaten into a pot of paste long ago.
“Continue.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. If we truly launch an offensive, the troops dispatched into the territory of the Kingdom of Aragon will also conduct military operations in coordination with the National Army and the ‘International Brigades’!”
When he mentioned the “International Brigades,” the younger Moltke’s mouth twitched unconsciously.
“The International Brigades…”
When Albert II mentioned this force, a complicated look also flashed through his eyes.
“I remember that some time ago, you told me that after the eleventh batch of volunteers for the International Brigades completed their assembly, they had already entered the Kingdom of Aragon by land?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. At present, the strength of the International Brigades within the Kingdom of Aragon has already reached the scale of seven brigades.”
The younger Moltke nodded. In truth, his feelings at this moment were just as complicated as Albert II’s.
These volunteers from all over the world, who had answered the slogan of “breaking the monopoly of hegemony and sharing the progress of civilization,” were not professional soldiers, but their will to fight and their fearless spirit had nevertheless won the younger Moltke’s respect—and a trace of fear.
Although this “International Brigades” force had been organized by the Saxon Empire, which had also taken care of almost all of its basic armaments, logistical supplies, and transportation needs.
In a certain sense, the two sides were close “allies.”
But more than once, he had also wondered whether, on some day in the future, these so-called “progressives”—workers, peasants, teachers, and the like—might for some reason turn their guns on the Saxon Empire as well.
Imperial Chancellor Hollweg also stepped forward at this moment.
“Your Majesty, recently, because of the major newspapers’ propaganda regarding the International Brigades, the Social Democrats who are leading this matter have also become increasingly brazen, even organizing several large-scale demonstrations in some cities one after another! I must remind you that these leftists have always been a time bomb for the empire.”
“Of course I know that, but at least for now, we still need these ‘international volunteers’ to maintain the situation in the Kingdom of Aragon.”
Albert II sighed. As the heir of the Saxon Wettin dynasty, he was very clear about the threat posed by these domestic left-wing forces.
“Those people in the Social Democratic Party… let them jump around for a while longer. We must first focus our efforts on the war situation in the Kingdom of Aragon.”
At this point, Albert II finally made up his mind. He rose from his chair and walked to the enormous map of Europa, his gaze falling on the area where the Kingdom of Aragon bordered the Saxon Empire.
“I authorize the troops that have already entered the Kingdom of Aragon to cooperate with our allies and carry out necessary military operations! Let the Britannians have a taste of our strength!”
“As you command, Your Majesty!” The younger Moltke snapped to attention, excitement flashing in his eyes.
“However…”
Albert II’s tone suddenly shifted, and his finger lightly tapped Seville on the map.
“I regret sending General Mackensen to command the fighting in the Kingdom of Aragon. In my name and that of the General Staff, draft a joint transfer order for him to return home and recuperate.”
The younger Moltke was stunned when he heard this. He did not understand why the emperor would call back the battle-hardened Mackensen at such a time.
After all, changing generals on the eve of battle was considered a grave taboo in the army.
But before the younger Moltke could ask the reason, he heard Albert II continue:
“Lieutenant General Mackensen is not merely a general of the empire; he is the empire’s most precious ‘living fossil’! He should be used in a true total war, not in a local conflict.”
The emperor’s voice was calm and clear.
“Moreover, we cannot afford the price of losing such a general in the Kingdom of Aragon. For a small-scale local war… what is needed there is not reckless offense, but someone steadier, someone who can prevent the situation from deteriorating further!”
Albert II turned around and looked at the younger Moltke. “My Chief of the General Staff, do you have a recommendation for the new commander of the Aragon Expeditionary Force?”
The younger Moltke thought briefly and quickly gave an answer: “General Maximilian von Prittwitz, Your Majesty.”
“Are you certain he is up to the task?”
“Yes. Although he is not as outstanding as General Mackensen, his command style is steady and prudent, and he excels at defensive counterattacks. If he is placed in charge of the war in Aragon, there should be no risk of failure!”
“Prittwitz…”
Albert II repeated the name several times, and finally nodded.
“Then it will be him. Issue the appointment to him immediately, and have him set out for the front lines of the Kingdom of Aragon at once to replace General Mackensen!”