“The Great Russia Empire? That decaying, reactionary prison collapsed a year ago!” Andrei’s voice carried a rare sense of triumph. “Most of the Romanov family bloodsuckers were sent to the gallows by the angry people, meeting the end they deserved.”
Morin’s heart skipped a beat. The ‘Tsarist Russia’ of this world had actually collapsed a year earlier, and it seemed the Romanov family’s fate was no better than in his previous life.
“Then what about Russia now?”
“Russia now?” The chemistry professor sighed and took over the conversation. “Russia now is nothing but a war-torn hell.” “After the fall of the Romanov family, the entire country fractured, splitting into numerous, large and small—hell, I don’t even know how many—factions, fighting each other mercilessly.” “There are those like us, who hope to establish a Communist state; there are the Royalists who want to restore the Tsar’s rule; there are various ethnic groups demanding independence and carving out their own territories; and of course, some regions are controlled by lawless warlords…”
“Then, who is the most powerful faction currently?”
Andrei: “The ‘Supreme Autocratic Principality of All Russia,’ established by former Imperial Admiral Kolchak and those Royalist nobles. They are supported by the Britannians, well-equipped, and possess formidable military strength. They are our most powerful enemy.”
Damn it, the White Army.
As Andrei continued his description, Morin’s ear constantly received system alerts for new information. He also roughly understood the current situation in Russia. Simply put, the country had entered an ‘All-Russian Battle Royale’ that started over a decade too early. Currently, the two most powerful warlord factions were those established by former Naval Admiral Kolchak and former Army General Denikin. These two Britannian-backed factions were constantly trying to eliminate the other factions separating them, in a bid to ‘link up.’
At this point, Morin thought of an unavoidable person. “Andrei, have you heard of any famous proletarian revolutionist in Russia?”
“Revolutionists? We have too many revolutionists over there. One pops up here today, another pops up there tomorrow…”
“Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov? Does that name ring a bell?”
“No.”
“What about Lenin?”
“No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?” Andrei looked at Morin with confusion. He couldn’t understand why this Saxon Empire Second Lieutenant was so interested in the situation in Russia.
“Because you just mentioned wanting to establish a Communist state, right? I was just trying to figure out who your leader is.”
“Oh, you mean that? Heh, you Saxon people are quite concerned with this!” Andrei suddenly understood. He paused, seemingly thinking, and then continued: “The original leadership group, due to Kolchak’s treachery and the intervention of the Royalist party, mostly perished in the revolution to overthrow the Romanov dynasty. The current leader is a man named… um, Kerensky.” “However, this man clearly isn’t very good at governing a country, so our economy and production are a mess right now.”
The conversation with Andrei once again boosted the system’s information gathering status, reaching 23%. It also made Morin increasingly curious about what would happen when the status reached 100%. Would he become completely omniscient? Simultaneously, the system map was significantly updated. When zoomed out, large areas of Russia were no longer covered by the fog of war, allowing Morin to see numerous factions, large and small.
The geopolitical landscape and revolutionary environment of this world were far more complex than Morin had anticipated. The man who was known as the ‘Mentor’ in his previous world seemed to have exited the stage early. Although the Romanov dynasty was over, the socialist state had not been established, and the closest faction was led by Kerensky. The entirety of Russia had devolved into chaos due to external interference, and it seemed unlikely that any single faction could quickly end the civil war.
Therefore, Andrei and his comrades had chosen a ‘different path.’ If the Saxons could help them slow down or severely damage the Britannians elsewhere, the Britannians would have less energy and fewer resources to divert to Russia. This meant that the Kingdom of Aragon was merely one stop on their long journey.
“This world is too dark. Is this some kind of DC universe?” Morin thought, trying to look toward the familiar East on the map. Besides the tightly sealed ‘fog of war,’ a small line of text appeared: [Explore this area later].
“The hell…”
Just as Morin was still processing this information, one of the workers suddenly shouted excitedly: “It’s ready! The hollow cones are cast!”
Everyone’s attention was instantly drawn to the spot. Morin and Andrei immediately stopped talking and quickly walked over. A finished, cooled copper hollow cone was displayed before them. The surface wasn’t perfectly smooth, but the cone’s angle was flawless, and all its specifications matched the calculations made by Morin and the chemistry professor.
On the other side, the artillerymen had successfully extracted all the yellow explosive from over a dozen shells, neatly stacking the blocks in a wooden box. Another worker, who also moonlighted as a clockmaker, produced a small, intricately structured metal device composed of springs and a firing pin, signaling that his work was complete.
All the parts were ready.
“Final assembly!” Morin gave the last order.
The next steps required even more technical skill and courage. Under Morin’s guidance, the veteran artillerymen first installed the intricately structured, manually triggered fuse at the deepest part of the 105mm shell casing. Then, they added a layer of fabric to the empty shell casing to insulate the metal, followed by reloading the explosive. This time, however, they did not fill the shell completely, leaving a precisely calculated cavity in front of the explosive. Finally, the most critical step: they carefully installed the completely cooled copper cone into the front cavity of the shell casing, with the cone’s tip pointing inward, directly toward the explosive charge at the base.
When the last component was secured, a strange, somewhat mismatched ‘artillery shell’ was born. It had the thick body of a 105mm shell, but the warhead was an inwardly concave funnel. The tail had a mechanically triggered fuse attached to a structure fixed to several cavalry lances that had been cut off and bundled together.
Morin checked the time. From start to finish, the process had taken one hour and thirty minutes. This was consistent with the efficiency of similar weapon modifications performed by German combat engineers on the battlefield in his previous world.
Ludwig walked up, curiously examining the freshly assembled ‘weapon.’ He couldn’t shake the feeling that this thing looked unreliable.
“Morin, is this the ‘can opener’ you mentioned?”
“That’s right,” Morin nodded. “A high-explosive anti-tank (HEAT) round for close-quarters combat, to be precise.”
“A HEAT round… So, do we load this into a cannon and fire it like other ammunition?” Ludwig asked, curiously and cautiously circling the device.
Morin: “No. Your Armored Knights need to carry this and detonate it at close range. Why else would I have added a pole to the back?”
“Wait…” Ludwig froze. “You just said this was some kind of shell? Why do we have to manually set it off?”
“Because I couldn’t find any other reliable means of delivery right now!” Morin shrugged, then suddenly looked ‘alarmed,’ staring at Ludwig with shock: “Heavens, surely you, my lord of the Teutonic Knights, weren’t thinking of making the infantry use this with their bare hands?”
“Ah? No, I wasn’t… I would never…”
“My Lord, the recoil alone from the explosion would seriously injure or kill them; that would be a suicide attack. I’m not as heartless as you,” Morin said, seemingly teasing.
“F-fine. Fine. The Armored Knights will use it. Now tell me how to use it, and let’s conduct a test.” Ludwig ultimately surrendered, then nimbly moved to his machine, climbing into the cockpit to personally conduct the test.
Before climbing in, he waved his hand, instructing a few Knight Attendants to bring over the thickest piece of main chest armor plate salvaged from the wreckage of a destroyed Order of Garter Armored Knight. The plate was leaned diagonally against a ruined wall, still bearing the exquisite crest and the scars of battle. Morin leaned in to look. The cross-section did not look 60–70mm thick; it was perhaps only about 35–40mm. This meant that the special craftsmanship and enchantment had provided an almost 50% defensive increase.
“This goddamn magic… it really is something else.”
While Morin marveled, Ludwig’s ‘Siegfried Mark 1’ Armored Knight walked forward. It then carefully picked up the weapon Morin called the ‘Melee HEAT Round.’
“Just disengage the safety and trigger it against the target?” Ludwig’s voice, with a slight reverb, came from somewhere on the Armored Knight.
Morin: “That’s right. To ensure penetration, I suggest controlling the distance between the warhead and the target to about 20 centimeters.”
“Got it. Everyone stand back!” Ludwig shouted. Once everyone retreated to a safe distance, he aimed the HEAT round like a lance at the target.
“Will this thing actually work?” Ludwig was full of doubt. The weapon looked like the product of some drunken third-rate craftsman in a rural workshop—wild and unreliable. But he chose to trust Morin. He then unhesitatingly triggered the anti-tank round.
(End of Chapter 48)