Holy Roman Empire

God did not favor the Russians, and time was on the enemy’s side. By the time the Russian army reported the news to Saint Petersburg, it was already deep into the night.

The officer responsible for drafting the telegram was a seasoned bureaucrat, well-versed in official protocols. The beginning of the message focused heavily on the victory at Kamin, emphasizing the bravery and heroic sacrifices of the garrison. The critical intelligence about the enemy’s movements was buried at the end.

The official on duty had just returned from a banquet, frustrated because he hadn’t fully enjoyed himself. He glanced briefly at the opening lines, assumed it was another commendation report, and didn’t bother to read further.

The victory at Kamin had already been reported two days earlier, and the celebration banquet had even been held. A second follow-up report naturally didn’t seem urgent and was placed in the regular queue without any priority.

It wasn’t until the following afternoon, when the report was submitted to department head Marshal Ivanov, that the contents that followed were discovered.

By this time, it was already too late. Even before Ivanov could react, urgent telegrams from Brest calling for reinforcements started flooding in.

The two urgent messages collided, and Marshal Ivanov flew into a rage. On the battlefield, time was life. If the report had been escalated the night before, reinforcements could have already been dispatched.

“Who was on duty last night? I’ll have that fool shot!”

A trembling adjutant stammered, “It was... Georgy, sir.”

Hearing that name, Ivanov’s anger flared even more and asked, “Which idiot assigned that playboy to night duty? Doesn’t everyone know that useless fool is good for nothing but causing trouble?”

There was nothing to be done since well-connected people like him were untouchable. Although Alexander II had reformed the military, nepotism remained an issue that couldn’t be completely eradicated.

Georgy came from an influential noble family and his father was the current Minister of Finance. With his family’s powerful connections, Georgy had joined the military as a way to build up his prestige.

There were many similar cases in the Russian army. Normally, Marshal Ivanov didn’t concern himself with them. As long as these individuals didn’t cause trouble, he was content to let them be. Except for a few who showed genuine potential, most were given simple tasks under the guise of “training.”

Handling incoming telegrams was one such task. The most important requirement was reliability—the ability to keep military secrets safe. Beyond that, the job was straightforward: categorize telegrams by importance and forward them accordingly.

High-ranking nobles were certainly reliable. Their fates were tied to the Russian Empire so they would never leak secrets to the enemy.

The job was light, with little room for error, and often offered opportunities to claim credit without much effort, making it highly appealing to individuals like Georgy.

When no one responded to his outburst, Ivanov realized this matter likely involved someone powerful. He slammed his hand on the table.

“Send that idiot home immediately! I don’t want to see his face again!”

Execution wasn’t an option, but sending Georgy home in disgrace was still within Ivanov’s authority. Given the gravity of the mistake, Ivanov had already shown considerable restraint by not pursuing harsher consequences.

If this incident became public knowledge, Georgy would undoubtedly be doomed. In such a critical moment, failing so catastrophically would make him a prime candidate for execution as an example to others. Alexander II would have no qualms about making an example of him.

The adjutant, visibly shaken, replied, “Yes, Marshal.”

If someone were to approach and take a closer look, they would notice sweat already trickling down his forehead, and his heartbeat quickening.

There was no helping it. When gods fight, it was the mortals who suffered first. Many matters couldn’t withstand scrutiny. Once investigated seriously, it would unleash a storm of bloodshed and chaos.

Marshal Ivanov still had a sense of the bigger picture. He understood that this was a critical moment, and any internal instability within the government could have catastrophic consequences. The best course of action was to downplay the issue and that is to make a big problem seem small, and a small problem disappear entirely.

As for the telegram? It would simply vanish without a trace, as if it had never been received at all.

…

Of course, Lieutenant General Olivier Soenfeld’s sense of the bigger picture proved useful. When reporting to headquarters, he also sent a telegram to warn the garrison at Brest.

While the bureaucrats at the top could afford to be careless, frontline officers dared not show any negligence. Even upon receiving the message in the middle of the night, the garrison immediately took action.

Unfortunately, time was still too short. Adjusting strategic deployments was already impossible. They could only strengthen their defenses to prevent a surprise attack.

From the moment the Prussian army divided its forces, the Brest garrison had been on alert. However, their preparations had been made to counter one division of Prussian troops. Now, with enemy forces doubled, their prior arrangements were no longer sufficient.

The Battle of Brest erupted in full force. The Prussian army launched relentless assaults at all costs, while the Russian defenders fought desperately. Airships, artillery, and machine guns filled the battlefield.

The brutality of modern warfare was staggering. Even Franz, staring at the photographs arriving from the front lines, was shocked. Human life, at this moment, seemed utterly worthless.

At the Vienna Palace, Chief of General Staff Albrecht reported, “Your Majesty, based on the current situation, the Russians are in serious trouble.

The Prussian offensive has completely disrupted the Russians’ deployment, and the strategic defense line carefully built by the Russian government now shows clear vulnerabilities.

Brest is being attacked from two sides. Whether the garrison can hold out is uncertain, and the Russian government cannot afford to take that risk.

Moltke’s timing was impeccable. Winter has already set in across Russia’s interior, with temperatures in many regions dropping below minus ten degrees.

In such severe weather conditions, it’s already too late to deploy reinforcements from the rear to Brest.

The fastest reinforcements would have to come from the flanks. Ukraine has not yet entered winter, and it would only take three to five days to send troops to Brest.

However, this would leave the flanks dangerously thin. No one can guarantee that the Prussians won’t repeat their previous tactics—sending cannon fodder to distract attention while their main forces maneuver elsewhere.

Right now, the Russians must be troubled. No matter which choice they make, it’s a gamble. And if they choose wrong, the entire southwestern front could collapse.”

Collapse?

Franz shook his head and disagreed, “It’s not that serious. It’s already November. Even if the Prussian army captures Brest, they won’t have enough time to expand their gains further.

If pushed to extremes, Alexander II could still trade pieces with the Prussian army. He could directly ignore the threat from the southwest and concentrate forces to strike East Prussia from the coast.

Even if the entire Ukraine is lost, the Russian Empire remains the Russian Empire. The territory of the Prussian-Polish Federation is relatively small. As long as a Russian army can break through to the rear and wreak havoc, even if the Prussian government wins, they will still lose.”

No matter how weak the Russian Navy is, it’s still slightly stronger than that of the Prussian-Polish Federation. In the last war, they even managed to raid the Prussian-Polish coastline. If not for logistical shortcomings, the outcome of the war might have been reversed.

Once bitten, twice shy.

This time, the Russian government stockpiled significant supplies in St. Petersburg. The main reason they haven’t attacked the Prussian-Polish coast is because the Russian government was prepared, deploying a significant number of coastal artillery batteries.

However, these are minor obstacles. As long as they are willing to endure casualties, a landing could still succeed.

Of course, this assumes that Britain and France remain neutral. If they intervene, the Russian Navy would stand no chance of completing its mission.

Frederick suggested, “In fact, the Russians have another option. After their victory at Kamin, the pressure on the local garrison has been significantly reduced.

If the Russian government is willing to take risks, they could order the local troops to launch a surprise assault on Warsaw.

Whether or not they succeed, the attack would disrupt the Prussian army’s deployment and throw them into chaos for a while. And if they do succeed, the gains would be immense.”

Franz shook his head. He had always despised gamble-like tactics. Success would be great, but what if it failed?

“Albrecht, explain it to him!”

Franz understood that while he was competent at strategic planning, he lacked the precision required for tactical execution. Instead of stepping in himself, he handed the matter over to a professional.

Albrecht nodded and started explaining, “Your Highness, before implementing this plan, you must first understand the true nature of the Russian troops guarding Kamin.

Don’t be misled by their recent victory into thinking they are highly capable. In reality, their performance is heavily exaggerated.

According to our intelligence, half of the Kamin garrison consists of newly mobilized recruits. They’re fine for defense operations or fighting when the odds are in their favor, but the moment they face a grueling battle, they will crumble.

If you order them to launch an assault on Warsaw, I guarantee that before they even reach the battlefield, more than a tenth of their troops will have fallen behind during the forced march.

Setting aside these internal issues, even if these Russian troops were elite, and even if the Prussians didn’t intercept them on the way, they still wouldn’t be able to complete this mission.

The citizens of Warsaw alone would be enough to ensure their failure. The Poles harbor deep hatred toward the Russians. A lone force, cut off from reinforcements, would never make it back out alive.”

Frederick’s face flushed with embarrassment, his confidence visibly shaken. He hadn’t considered such a basic issue, and it struck a heavy blow to his confidence.

Franz smiled faintly. In his eyes, this was actually a good thing. Perhaps due to his frequent interactions with the General Staff recently, Frederick’s confidence had started to overinflate.

As a crown prince, it was enough for him to focus on strategic planning. Trying to meddle in detailed military command? That was hardly a wise use of his time.

…

Russian Command, Kamin

Chief of Staff Larsen reported, “Commander, we’ve received an order from headquarters instructing us to immediately dispatch two regiments to reinforce Brest.”

Lieutenant General Olivier Soenfeld’s expression darkened as he stared at the map, his brows tightly furrowed.

“Are the reinforcements coming solely from our forces, or are troops being pulled from other regions as well?”

Chief of Staff Larsen replied, “I’ve already asked about this. Nearby forces, including ours, are all being mobilized.

However, the numbers aren’t large from each region. It seems we’re contributing the largest force, likely because we’ve just secured a major victory and the high command believes there won’t be any significant battles here in the short term.”

Olivier hesitated, sensing that something felt off, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

“In that case, just carry out the orders! But do your best to coordinate with nearby units and have them move together with our troops. Sending two regiments alone is far too risky.”

Caution was Olivier’s greatest strength—a lesson he learned from the last Russo-Prussian War. Under this guiding principle, Olivier had earned a reputation for cautious, methodical operations.

He had never won a stunning victory, nor had he suffered a catastrophic defeat. He was a steady and dependable commander, someone headquarters could always rely on.

…

At the Prussian army command post on the Brest front, Moltke had directly taken over the operations room.

A middle-aged officer spoke softly, “Marshal, the Russians are on the move.”

Moltke stood up and quickly walked over to the sand table, issuing an order, “Hans, mark the direction of the Russian troop movements for me.”

“Yes, sir!”

The middle-aged officer swiftly carried out the task with precision and professionalism.

A pleased smile appeared on Moltke’s face as he said, “Excellent. Very good. We’ve already won half of this campaign. How much we gain this time depends on how generous the Russians are willing to be.

Inform Demacia that the Russians have taken the bait. Whatever he can devour is up to his capability.

Order the 7th and 11th Divisions to intensify their attacks. From now on, launch relentless day-and-night assaults on Brest and keep the Russians exhausted and on the run.

Order the 13th and 25th Divisions to prepare for combat. Whether or not we can seize Volhynia will depend on them.”

As a military strategist skilled in maneuver warfare, Moltke despised prolonged siege battles. If the Russians chose to hold their ground in fortifications, the contest would become one of raw strength, leaving little room for his tactical brilliance to shine.

But now the Russians were moving, and the situation had changed. Russian forces in the open field were far easier to deal with than those entrenched in fortress bunkers.

Despite the heavy losses sustained in earlier battles, if the Russian army could be lured out and the deadlock on the southwestern front broken, every sacrifice would have been worth it.

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