Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 76 Rescue
Ludwig hummed an off-key Saxon tune and poured himself another half glass of gin, the level of which was dropping visibly.

"Alright, alright, Lieutenant Colonel, if you keep drinking, the medic will definitely come looking for trouble with me tomorrow."

Morin snatched the bottle and tightened the cap.

Although it originated in Flanders and flourished in Brittany, this drink, also known as gin, is very popular in Saxony, especially in the northern regions.

Along with brandy and Cohen, it was one of the options for officers' alcohol rations.

However, Morin really couldn't stand drinking this stuff.
"Don't be so stingy."

Ludwig pursed his lips, downed the rest of the wine in his glass in one gulp, and smacked his lips as if he still wanted more.

He stood up and stretched his limbs. The wound on his ribs seemed to be throbbing again, making him grimace.

"Morin, you've really opened my eyes this time."

Ludwig walked to the door, turned back and winked at Morin.

"You really have a bright future ahead of you now."

"We can't even see a shadow yet, Lieutenant Colonel," Morin said, waving his hand with a wry smile.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later, I said it!"

After saying that, Ludwig opened the door and peeked outside.

After confirming that no one was around, he limped into the night.

Morin shook his head as he watched his retreating figure, but felt much more at ease because of what the other man had said.

At least becoming a spellcaster doesn't seem dangerous; it's more like a good lottery ticket in life.

Early the next morning, Morin, carrying the three spell manuals that had already 'drained' their experience, prepared to hand them over to the brigade headquarters.

As he passed by the tent area of ​​the field hospital, he saw a scene that made him laugh.

Several medical officers were surrounding Ludwig, their faces stern, spitting as they spoke.

I don’t know if there are any special requirements, but the medical officers in the Saxon Army are all strong, tall and mighty.

Ludwig, surrounded by them, was completely unable to move.
"Lieutenant Colonel! We're doing this for your health!"

"Did you sneak a drink again last night? We can smell the alcohol on you!"

"If this continues, we'll have no choice but to tie you to the bed!"

Ludwig was scolded like a greenhorn, his head hanging low, not daring to utter a sound.

When he saw Morin passing by, suppressing a laugh and looking at him, he glared at Morin fiercely, which drew the attention of several medical officers as well.

Seeing this, Morin quickly quickened his pace and made a hasty escape.

He didn't want to be offended by those medics who looked like they could tear enemies apart with their bare hands, and they were among the most dangerous junior sergeants to offend.

The temporary brigade headquarters of the 16th Brigade has been located in the relatively well-preserved city hall building since the start of the urban warfare.

After registering at the entrance, Morin was led to a staff officer.

When he placed the three manuals, which still exuded a faint magical aura, on the table, Morin, who had been somewhat puzzled after hearing that he had important items to hand over, almost popped his eyes out.

"This...this is a spellbook by a highland mage?"

The staff officer was clearly a connoisseur; he carefully picked up a book, flipped through a few pages, and his hands were trembling slightly.

"And three books?! We thought those highland mages hadn't left anything behind."

"I'm sorry, we've never seized these things before, and we didn't know we had to hand them over."

Morin scratched his head sheepishly, a harmless smile on his face:

"I only brought these things over after hearing about them from other people."

The news that Morin had seized the Highland Mage's Notes was quickly reported. Then the entire brigade knew that he had become a spellcaster on the battlefield, and Major General Paul even met with him privately.

Upon realizing this was not a joke, Major General Paul reacted much like Ludwig, also marveling at Morin's limitless potential.

The news spread like wildfire, reaching the entire 16th Brigade's garrison within a single day, and even reaching the neighboring Nationalist Army units that were resting nearby.

"A spellcaster has appeared in the Saxon army!"

"I heard he's a second lieutenant, and apparently he distinguished himself in the battle of Seville!"

"Really? Aren't the Saxon mages all in the rear and with the Royal Guard?"

"It's true, I saw him fly with my own eyes!"

"That's right, that's right, he can breathe fire too, that's amazing!"

For a time, Friedrich Morin became the most talked-about name among the Allied forces stationed in Seville.

His performance in previous battles was also pieced together, eventually embellished into multiple versions.

Of these various versions, the one that "Morin used a grenade to bring down three highland mages from the sky" is the most outrageous.
Almost every day, people would come to the 3rd Company's post under various pretexts to "visit" him out of curiosity.

Some were genuinely curious and wanted to see what a mage looked like up close, since spellcasters were indeed a rare sight for the Saxons and the volunteers of the International Brigades.

According to the entries updated by Morin through the [Intelligence] tab, the number and level of mages on the Saxon side are far inferior to those on the Britannian side.
The main problem is the lack of high-level spellcasters.

Besides those who came out of curiosity, there were also some surviving Saxon officers who wanted to befriend this future 'promising talent'.

The entrance to the temporary camp of the 3rd Company suddenly became bustling with activity, even more so than the battalion headquarters.

This forced Klaus and Bowman to temporarily act as gatekeepers, and they were so tired from stopping people every day that their throats were dry.

Molin, on the other hand, was left somewhat bewildered and amused by this sudden display of 'enthusiasm'.

He felt less like a sorcerer and more like a giant panda being watched in a zoo.
During the few days that Morin was treated like a rare animal and surrounded by onlookers, the war situation in the entire Kingdom of Aragon finally took a turn for the better.

This time, Morin's 'jinx' seemed to have lost its effect, and the battle did not develop in a worse direction.

With General August von Mackensen personally commanding twelve fully equipped Saxon infantry divisions, they surged from the imperial border toward Cuenca and Valencia.

The Kingdom's army and the Brittany expeditionary force, which had previously swept through the battle all the way to the sea, instantly felt what it meant to be crushed by Mount Tai.

The enemy forces attacking Cuenca and Valencia numbered only five divisions at most, and more than half of them were weak Kingdom troops.

These troops were fine against the National Army due to their numerical superiority, but once they faced the regular army of the Saxon Empire, it was like an egg hitting a rock.

With almost no fierce resistance, the enemy forces entrenched in these two provinces began a large-scale retreat.

Their commander knew very well that if they didn't run now, they would be crushed to dust by the massive Saxon army.

During this process, the Brittany Expeditionary Force demonstrated extremely high tactical skills.

Although they were scattered in different positions on the front line, they still managed to quickly break away and retreat to Madrid.

However, many of the kingdom's soldiers, who were slow and poorly organized, became scapegoats.
With the enemy's retreat, the severed railway was reopened, and the Saxon expeditionary force besieged in the heart of Aragon was finally freed from its encirclement.

When the news reached Seville, the entire Saxon garrison was in an uproar.

The tension and despair that had been building up for days vanished, replaced by the ecstatic joy of surviving a disaster.

The soldiers cheered, embraced, and tossed their pointed helmets into the air.

This time, no one tried to stop their celebration.

Although the officers maintained their composure, their flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes betrayed their inner excitement.

Morin also breathed a long sigh of relief; the huge weight that had been pressing on his heart for several days had finally been lifted.

It's good to be alive.

(End of this chapter)