Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 240 Morin's Family Letter

The Saxon Empire, with its capital Dresden.

As the morning sun began to shine into the ancient city, the Dresden Central Post Office was already a hive of activity.

Postmen in uniforms weave through mountains of letters and packages, collecting mail for their assigned areas.

After the outbreak of war, letters from the front lines flew back to the rear like snowflakes, making these normally leisurely postmen feel the tension of war.

There was an unwritten rule within the post office that, to ensure absolute safety, letters from officers at the front were usually delivered by the most senior and reliable postmen.

The mail for ordinary soldiers was handled by the young postmen.

Old Fisher, the postman, was one of these veterans.

His hair was gray, and his face was marked by the passage of time, but his eyes remained bright and piercing.

He has been running this mail route for over thirty years and knows every street in Dresden like the back of his hand.

However, when he took the mailbag he was responsible for from the sorter today, he noticed that there were fewer letters than usual.

He quickly sorted the letters according to the proximity of the addresses, preparing to plan today's delivery route.

Just then, he noticed three letters that were different from the others.

The envelopes of these three letters were made of high-quality materials, and the seals were carefully sealed with sealing wax, with an exquisite family crest stamped on them.

In addition, these three letters had an extra special seal, and judging from the signature on it, it seemed to be the headquarters of the Second Army Group of the Imperial Army.

What puzzled old Fisher the most was their mailing address—a manor house outside Dresden.

Logically, such letters from the suburbs should be handled by the next-level regional post office, not by a senior postman from the central post office.

"Boss, are there some mistakes with these letters?"

Old Fisher took the three letters to his superior, a veteran who had also worked at the post office for countless years.

The superior took the letter, glanced at it, then lowered his voice and said mysteriously to old Fisher:
“No mistake, Fisher’s job needs someone reliable like you to do it.”

He pointed to the address on the envelope and continued:
"This place is not simple. The higher-ups have instructed that all letters from this household must be delivered directly by a special person from our Central Post Office, and cannot go through those shady characters below."

"I figured you were the most reliable, so I assigned this task to you. To help you focus, I've also reduced your other tasks for today."

Upon hearing his superior's words, old Fisher immediately understood.

The recipient of such a letter must be someone of great wealth and status to warrant such seriousness from the post office leadership.

He examined the three letters carefully and discovered that the sender's signature was the same: Friedrich Morin.

The recipients of the letters were three different women.
"These three letters are addressed to different people, but the addresses are all the same. Could it be that this officer at the front has lost his mind and written the wrong address?" Old Fisher muttered to himself.

With these doubts and a touch of curiosity, old Fisher carefully placed the three letters into the innermost part of the parcel.

At the same time, I made a decision in my mind: my first stop today would be this suburban manor.

Around 10 a.m., old Fisher drove the Fischer-powered car issued by the post office, bumping along the country roads for a long time, and finally arrived at the address written on the envelope.

From afar, a huge manor sits quietly among the rolling hills, its high walls and dense forests completely isolating it from the outside world.

At the castle-like gate on the outer wall of the manor, old Fisher was stopped by two tall, serious-looking guards.

He was only allowed to enter after his identity was carefully verified and confirmed by a landline call to the manor's interior.

After entering the gate, he was not allowed to continue driving his own car, but instead switched to a luxurious four-wheeled carriage inside the manor.

The carriage traveled smoothly along the sturdy gravel road. Old Fisher then realized that the manor was much larger than he had imagined. It took the carriage almost ten minutes to travel from the outer gate to the main building of the manor.

The scenery along the way, from the meticulously manicured gardens to even a shimmering lake, all showcased the owner's wealth and power.

When the carriage stopped in front of the main building, a well-dressed and elegant middle-aged woman was already waiting at the door.

She was Luna, Cecilia's head maid.

"Hello, are you Mr. Fisher from the Central Post Office?" Luna's smile was gentle and polite.

"Yes, ma'am."

Old Fisher quickly got off the carriage, respectfully took the three letters from the mailbag, and handed them over.

When Luna saw the Central Post Office emblem on Old Fisher's mailbag, a knowing look flashed in her eyes.

She took the letter and said with a smile, "It's kind of you to have come all the way from the city."

As she spoke, she gestured to the young maid beside her.

Soon, the maid came over carrying a basket full of food, including freshly baked bread, several sausages and bacon that smelled tempting.

“This is a token of my appreciation for your trouble in making this trip; please accept it.” Luna handed the basket to old Fisher.

Old Fisher was immediately flattered; he hadn't expected such an unexpected surprise from delivering the letter.

Since the outbreak of war, prices within the empire have inevitably begun to soar. In order to prioritize the supply of military provisions, the food rations released to the civilian market have become increasingly scarce, and the price of meat has nearly doubled.

Keep in mind, this was only the first month of the war.
For an ordinary family like his, the food in this basket was already considered a sumptuous feast.

"Oh, this, I can't accept this!" Old Fisher thanked him repeatedly, his face beaming with joy.

“You deserve it.” Luna maintained her elegant smile.

Old Fisher left, carrying his heavy basket, completely satisfied.

Although he never found out who the owner of the huge manor was until the very end, it no longer mattered.

All he knew was that at least tonight, he and his family could enjoy a long-awaited good meal.

Head maid Luna, holding three letters, turned and walked into the magnificent main hall of the building.

As soon as I entered, I saw Cecilia, the mistress of the manor, wearing a silk nightgown and looking sleepy as she walked down the spiral staircase on the second floor.

"Madam, you're awake." Luna bowed slightly. "The postman from the Central Post Office just delivered a letter from Young Master Morin, sent from the front lines."

"Friedrich's letter?"

Upon hearing the name, Cecilia, who had been somewhat dazed, instantly snapped out of her daze.

A hint of undisguised surprise and eagerness flashed in her eyes, and she quickened her pace, running down the stairs.

"Oh dear, Madam, please slow down!" Luna was startled and quickly stepped forward to carefully support her, afraid that the noblewoman, who had just gotten up and was still a little groggy, might slip and fall.

When the war broke out, the training assault battalion was among the first troops to be deployed to the front lines, and they left in an extremely hurried manner.

Morin didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to Cecilia in person; she didn't even have the opportunity to tell her to "be careful on the battlefield."

These days, she outwardly remains calm as she handles the vast family business, but deep down she is constantly worried about the young man who is far away on a foreign battlefield.

Now, we've finally received news from him.

Cecilia took the letter from Luna, and a huge weight was finally lifted from her heart.

However, when her gaze fell on the three letters in her hand, a subtle change occurred in the joy on her face.

Wait, why are there three letters?

Cecilia glanced at the recipients' names and then discovered that, apart from the letter addressed to herself, the other two letters were addressed to Helga Schmeisser, who was still living in the manor, and Patricia, the genius girl from the Seect family.

"That Friedrich guy."

Cecilia's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, a strange and indescribable emotion welling up inside her.

Along with the joy, there seemed to be a slight bittersweet feeling.

However, she quickly suppressed this emotion, clutching the letter she had written to herself tightly in her hand, and then asked Luna, "Where is Helga? Has she gotten up?"

“Miss Schmeisser is up early this morning, just like always,” Luna replied with a smile. “I saw her go into the studio just now; she’s probably drawing those complicated blueprints again. Should I go and call her out?”

"Yes, go ahead and tell her that Friedrich wrote her a letter."

Cecilia nodded, then turned and walked toward the sofa in the hall.

She was already quite eager to see what Friedrich had said to her in the letter.

She sat down gracefully and carefully cut open the edge of the envelope with a delicate letter opener.

As she took out and unfolded the letter, she seemed to feel a familiar scent wafting towards her, but mixed with a faint smell of gunpowder.

The letter begins with a series of ornate words written by Morin, expressing his longing for Cecilia in a whole paragraph.

Upon seeing these cheesy sentences, Cecilia couldn't help but smile, a bright and cheerful expression spreading across her face.

Her smile, like the morning sun, instantly illuminated the entire hall, leaving several young maids who happened to be passing by stunned. They felt that after the lady smiled, even the oil paintings on the wall seemed to become more splendid.

She continued reading, and the letter briefly described Morin's experiences on the battlefield.

Although he carefully concealed all the bloody and cruel details, he only wrote about his observations of exotic customs and some interesting anecdotes from the battlefield—such as how he 'persuaded' the two army group leaders to secure roasted pork knuckles as a perk for his troops.

But Cecilia was an exceptionally intelligent woman; she could discern the hidden hardships and difficulties behind these seemingly lighthearted words.

Her heart clenched, but at the same time she felt a surge of relief.

The boy she watched grow up has truly matured. He knows to share good news but not bad, so as not to cause worry to those behind him.

After reading these everyday descriptions, the letter finally got to the point.

When Cecilia saw Morin's detailed analysis of the shortcomings of existing military trucks and his proposals to improve the suspension system, develop new medium-sized trucks, and even boldly suggest drawing inspiration from agricultural tractors to develop tracked or half-tracked vehicles, the smile on Cecilia's face gradually faded, replaced by a serious expression that was a mixture of surprise and admiration.

As a designer by training and head of a vast industrial empire, Cecilia understood the value of Morin's proposals better than anyone else.

These ideas were not merely the sudden inspiration of a frontline officer, but were based on a profound insight into the future form of warfare.

"The idea of ​​tracked vehicles is indeed very bold and forward-thinking."

Cecilia silently considered that with the technological reserves of Falkenstein-Eisenstein Joint Industries and the performance of the Huijing internal combustion engine, it was not impossible to achieve it.
Her mind immediately began racing, and she started filtering through the vehicle manufacturing and mechanical engineering companies under her umbrella that possessed top-notch technological capabilities.

For example, Daimler, Borgward, and Mercedes-Benz.
She decided to immediately convene the relevant personnel and engineers to form a special research and development team.

She had to prepare whatever Friedrich needed at the front as quickly as possible.

The letter concludes with another equally passionate and sincere confession.

"Your care is like a lighthouse in the darkness, guiding me so I won't lose my way on this foreign battlefield. Please take good care of yourself; when I return victorious, I will present you with the most beautiful roses of Gaul."

Upon reading this, Cecilia's cheeks flushed a lovely blush.

She gently pressed the letter to her chest, feeling both sweet and shy.

"When did Friedrich become so good at saying cheesy things?"

She murmured to herself, her cool voice carrying a hint of coquettishness that she herself was unaware of.

Luna and Helga happened to see her in this rare, girlish state.

"Sister Cecilia, why is your face so red?" Helga asked innocently, blinking her big eyes curiously.

"what?"

Cecilia was caught off guard by this sudden question.

She quickly composed herself, regaining her usual aloof and noble demeanor, and casually adjusted the collar of her robe.

"It's nothing, maybe...maybe it's just a bit hot."

As she spoke, she put the letter in her hand aside and gave Helga a gentle smile: "Helga, Friedrich also wrote to you."

At the same time, she instructed Luna, who was standing beside her:
"Luna, go and contact Miss Patricia and tell her that the letter Friedrich sent to her has been delivered to the manor. Ask her if she needs us to send someone to deliver it to her."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hey! My boss wrote me a letter?"

Hearing Cecilia's words, Helga's face showed unexpected joy.

She never expected that her boss, who was fighting on the front lines, would take the time out of his busy schedule to write her a letter.

With a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, the little girl took the letter that belonged to her from Luna, then walked over and sat down on the sofa opposite Cecilia.

Then, taking the letter opener from Cecilia, he carefully tore open the envelope and subconsciously read the first sentence:
"Dear Miss Schmeisser, it is as if I am seeing you in person."

As soon as she finished speaking, Cecilia, who was sitting opposite her, raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Darling" again?
How many "dears" does this guy actually have?
(End of this chapter)