10 minutes ago.
The temporary headquarters of the 16th Brigade was located in a relatively intact building in the south of Seville, with faint bullet marks still visible on the walls from the fighting.
Inside the building’s largest room, Brigadier General Paul, the Brigade Commander, was forcefully rubbing his temples, his brows tightly furrowed. On the table before him lay the compiled casualty report—the entire brigade had suffered over 37% casualties, and several heavily damaged battalions were on the verge of being structurally dissolved.
Besides that, there were several urgent intelligence reports just delivered by forward scouts, and the Chief of Staff was reporting this information to him.
“The Royal Army and the Britannians have not retreated far; they have halted and are reassembling less than eight kilometers outside the city.”
“Furthermore, they have received substantial reinforcements. Preliminary estimates suggest at least two to three regiments of fresh troops.”
This news was bad enough, but worse was to follow.
“The most critical part is…” The Chief of Staff paused, seemingly unsure how to continue. “We have confirmed that the enemy’s Order of Garter Knights have increased their Armored Knights strength from the previous two to eight units.”
“Eight?!” Brigadier General Paul snapped his head up, feeling as if he had been punched.
This meant that their Teutonic Knights’ Armored Knights had completely lost the slight numerical advantage they held before. In the previous fighting, Ludwig and his men had only managed to destroy two of the enemy Armored Knights at a cost of losing half of their own machines, despite having a three-to-one numerical superiority. Now, the enemy outnumbered them. If they clashed again… Brigadier General Paul dared not contemplate the consequences.
“General, should we consider a temporary retreat?” A young officer suggested quietly.
“Retreat?” Brigadier General Paul sneered, slamming his hand on the table. “Retreat where? We are standing in Seville, which we just captured—the strategic center of southern Aragon, and the Empire’s main objective!” “If we lose it, not only will our previous sacrifices be for nothing, but the entire southern front will be jeopardized!”
He stood up, pacing back and forth in the room, his leather boots echoing heavily on the floor. “We cannot retreat. Not a single step.”
Brigadier General Paul stopped, his eyes hardening. “Send a telegram to the Expeditionary Force Command and the General Staff, reporting the situation. Also, inform them that the 16th Brigade will hold Seville until the Armored Airship arrives!” He looked around at his subordinates, his voice resolute. “Order: summon all officers of battalion rank and above to the Brigade Headquarters for an emergency military conference immediately!”
The order was quickly relayed. Soon, Major Thomas and Lieutenant Colonel Ludwig, who had just finished handling the disciplinary issue with Morin, received the messenger’s summons. The two exchanged grim glances and immediately departed for the Brigade Headquarters without saying a word.
Meanwhile, at the 1st Battalion, 3rd Platoon’s temporary position, Morin was holding his second combat summary meeting since arriving in this world. Unlike the first meeting’s stiffness, the atmosphere was much livelier this time. Having just survived a bloody battle, the soldiers were bursting with things they wanted to share.
“Platoon Leader, I think that flanking fire tactic is incredibly effective!” A Corporal was the first to speak, his face lighting up with excitement as he talked about the topic. “Especially that heavy machine gun, my God! Mounted in that position, it was a slaughterhouse! Those Royal Army soldiers fell in rows like wheat!”
His words immediately resonated with the others. “That’s right! We used to think the heavy machine gun was just a clumsy thing, only good for defending a position. I never thought it could be so effective on the offensive when used from a good position!” “Yes, yes! We used to bunch up too tightly, and one shell would take out a whole group. Following the Platoon Leader’s order to spread out, the formation looked messy, but the casualties were indeed much lower!”
The soldiers spoke over one another, everyone sharing their insights. Morin listened with satisfaction; this was exactly the effect he wanted. These soldiers were no longer just puppets who blindly followed orders; they were actively thinking and summarizing lessons learned. This increase in subjective initiative had a significance far greater than merely winning a single battle.
However, someone soon brought up an issue that silenced everyone.
“Platoon Leader… how are we supposed to deal with the Britannians’ Heavy Armored Soldiers?” A soldier who had survived the hand-to-hand combat asked nervously. “Our bullets just bounce off them.”
The intense atmosphere immediately chilled. Everyone recalled the Heavy Armored Soldiers who had charged through the field like Iron Cans, and they all felt a shiver of fear. Morin looked at Platoon Sergeant Klaus: “Klaus, how did the army usually deal with this situation in the past?”
Klaus frowned in thought, then shook his head: “Platoon Leader, honestly, our regular infantry regiments rarely face that enemy directly. According to what I’ve heard, it’s usually handled by some of the Saxon Royal Guard Divisions.” “Some of the Royal Guard Divisions are also equipped with Heavy Armored Soldiers to engage in ‘equivalent combat.’ I’ve never heard of us regular infantry being asked to go toe-to-toe with them.”
This answer was within Morin’s expectation. The Saxons wouldn’t be completely helpless against these Heavy Armored Soldiers; just like the Armored Knights, there had to be an equivalent counter-unit. It seemed that in this world, elite units were used to counter elite units, following a clear chain of unit counter-specialization.
Just as everyone was at a loss, a messenger on horseback galloped up, pulling his reins to a halt at the 3rd Platoon’s temporary assembly area. “Is Second Lieutenant Morin here? Major Thomas orders you to report to the Battalion Command for a meeting immediately!”
Morin immediately stood up. Being summoned to the Battalion Command now likely meant Major Thomas was relaying information from the Brigade Headquarters meeting.
“Klaus, continue organizing the discussion. Take notes on all the questions.”
“Yes, Platoon Leader!”
After instructing Klaus, Morin wasted no time, following the messenger toward the Battalion Command post. He had a feeling that something major was about to happen.
“I hope it’s not bad news…”
When Morin arrived at the 1st Battalion’s temporary command post, he found it already crowded. Every surviving Company Commander and Platoon Leader was gathered in the command post, which was hastily constructed from a few folding map tables. Every face showed undisguised exhaustion, and several men were still wearing bandages.
Battalion Commander Major Thomas stood in front of the map, his face significantly gloomy—an expression that suggested the news from the Brigade Headquarters was anything but good. Seeing Morin enter, he merely nodded, signaling him to find a place to stand.
Once everyone was present, Major Thomas cleared his throat and got straight to the point. “Gentlemen, we just received news at the Brigade Headquarters meeting. The enemy has not fully retreated but has reassembled and received massive reinforcements. The Brigade Command anticipates they will launch a counter-attack against us once they complete their mobilization.”
(End of Chapter 42)