Chapter 6: Your Majesty, They’re Slapping You in the Face!

Saxon Empire, Potsdam, Palace of Serenity.

This Rococo palace, hailed as the "Saxon Versailles," appeared tranquil and solemn beneath the night sky.

Yet, this quiet was soon shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps.

An encrypted telegram from the frontlines of the Kingdom of Aragon, after two hours of transmission and translation, finally arrived at the study of Emperor Albert II of the Saxon Empire.

Accompanying the telegram were the empire’s Chief of General Staff, Helmut Ludwig von Mauche, rushing in with urgency, and the Imperial Chancellor, Theobaden von Bettmann-Holweg.

Notably, young Mauche’s uncle was the legendary war hero of the Saxon Empire, the elder Mauche.

Though young Mauche’s disposition was relatively mild, since serving as Emperor Albert II’s aide-de-camp, he had surpassed many more capable men in various respects, eventually rising to the position of Chief of General Staff of the Saxon Army.

Inside the study, the flames in the fireplace flickered quietly, casting a glow on the emperor’s slightly weary face.

Albert II took the telegram handed by his aide and quickly scanned its contents.

As his eyes passed over the first half, the empire’s supreme ruler’s expression instantly darkened; his fingers gripping the telegram paper whitened from the force.

But as he continued reading, the tension in his face gradually eased. A close attendant standing nearby even caught the emperor’s whispered words of relief.

“Good that they were rescued, good that they were rescued...”

Albert II placed the telegram on the desk, leaned back in his chair, and exhaled deeply.

An Imperial Lieutenant General had been captured by hostile forces on foreign soil...

This was not merely a military setback but threatened to become a terrible diplomatic disaster and a storm of public opinion.

Fortunately, the worst had been averted.

“Your Majesty, the actions of the Bretonians are a blatant trampling on the Empire’s dignity!” young Mauche’s voice broke the brief silence in the study. Though not tall, his sharply tailored gray uniform lent him an imposing presence.

“To ambush our military observation group without declaring war is not only an insult to the Saxon army but also a direct challenge to your authority as emperor!”

He stepped forward, anger unmasked in his tone.

“We must make them pay! The Kingdom of Aragon is the key to extending our influence southward; it must never fall into Bretonian hands! If the ‘Royal Army’ they support wins, Bretonian power will be pushed right to the Empire’s doorstep!”

The Imperial Chancellor, Holweg, who had remained silent, now spoke with measured calm, though his words carried weight.

“Your Majesty, Chief of General Staff is correct... Politically, Crown Prince Alfonso once studied in the Empire and advocated learning from our industrial development model. He is our ideal ally. More importantly...”

Holweg paused, delivering a piece of startling news.

“The latest survey reports reveal a vein of brilliant crystal ore in the southern mountains of Aragon — potentially the largest deposit in the entire Europa continent... This fundamentally changes the nature of Aragon’s civil war.”

Brilliant crystal ore!

Albert II’s gaze sharpened instantly; he understood the gravity of this revelation.

The Saxon Empire’s crystal technology, which sustained its rivalry with Bretonia and Gaul, depended on this very mineral.

A single vast vein in Europa could tip the entire continent’s balance of power.

He also knew well that Bretonia’s interference in Aragon’s civil war was precisely because of this ore deposit...

Indeed, if Gaul weren’t preoccupied quelling a massive recent colonial uprising, this neighboring nation to Aragon would surely have intervened as well!

Why had these two nations, both pursuing magical technology, suddenly begun coveting brilliant crystal mines?

The answer was simple.

Mines deplete.

Especially this magical crystal ore, fallen from the heavens as meteorites onto this planet.

Its reserves, compared to native minerals, were already scarce to an unknown degree.

After years of unregulated extraction by Bretonians and Gauls, the magical crystal reserves had long approached a critical low.

Thus, these two great magical technology powers had been eager to shift their technological paths, and Aragon’s discovery was like a pillow delivered just at the moment of drowsiness.

Albert II frowned but set aside these thoughts and turned his gaze to the Chief of General Staff.

“Helmut, if you were given free rein, what are our chances? Also... if we initiate an attack, would that be considered a declaration of war against Bretonia?”

Mauche pondered briefly before answering earnestly.

“Your Majesty, trust in the training, courage, and discipline of our Imperial soldiers! As for declaring war... since the Bretonians chose to strike without declaration, why should we be bound by such hypocritical formalities?”

Albert II did not object to this point.

Over the years, conflicts over resources and territory in the Empire’s African colonies with Bretonia and Gaul had never ceased. Armed bloodshed was commonplace.

If every skirmish required a formal declaration of war, Europa would long have been a chaotic battleground.

“Continue.”

“Yes, Your Majesty... should we launch an attack, the forces deployed in Aragon will operate in coordination with the National Army and the ‘International Brigades.’”

At the mention of the ‘International Brigades,’ Mauche’s lips twitched involuntarily.

“International Brigades...”

Albert II’s eyes flickered with a complicated expression.

“I recall you told me recently that the eleventh batch of International Brigade volunteers, after assembly, had already entered Aragon by land?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Currently, International Brigade forces inside Aragon number seven brigades.”

Mauche nodded; his inner feelings mirrored the emperor’s complexity.

These volunteers, drawn from around the world under the banner of "breaking hegemonic monopolies and sharing civilizational progress," were not professional soldiers. Yet their fighting spirit and fearless resolve commanded Mauche’s respect — and a hint of fear.

Though the International Brigades were formed by the Saxon Empire and supplied with basic arms, logistics, and transport, they were, in a sense, close ‘allies.’

Yet he had often wondered if, someday, these workers, farmers, teachers, and so-called ‘progressives’ might, for some reason, turn their guns against the Saxon Empire itself.

...

At that moment, Chancellor Holweg stepped forward.

“Your Majesty, due to recent newspaper coverage glorifying the International Brigades, the Social Democrats leading this cause have become increasingly audacious, even organizing multiple large-scale demonstrations in several cities! I must remind you, these leftists remain a ticking time bomb for the Empire.”

“I am well aware of that, but for now, we must rely on these ‘international volunteers’ to maintain the situation in Aragon.”

Albert II sighed deeply. As the heir of the Saxon Wettin dynasty, he was fully aware of the threat posed by domestic leftist forces.

“Let the Social Democrats continue their antics for a while longer—we must focus our energies on the battle unfolding in Aragon.”

With that, Albert II made a firm decision. Rising from his chair, he walked to the huge map of Europa and fixed his gaze on the border shared between Aragon and the Saxon Empire.

“I authorize the troops already inside Aragon to coordinate with our allies and carry out necessary military operations! Let the Bretonians see what we’re made of!”

“At your command, Your Majesty!” Mauche snapped to attention, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“However...”

Albert II’s tone shifted as he lightly tapped the map on Seville.

“I regret appointing General Mackensen to command the Aragon campaign... In the name of myself and the General Staff, draft a transfer order recalling him home to rest.”

Mauche was taken aback. He could not understand why the emperor would recall the capable and battle-hardened Mackensen at such a critical moment.

Changing commanders mid-campaign was a grave taboo in military circles.

Before Mauche could inquire, Albert II continued:

“Lieutenant General Mackensen is not merely an imperial general; he is one of the Empire’s most precious ‘living relics.’ He should be reserved for a true total war, not a localized conflict.”

The emperor’s voice was calm and clear.

“Moreover, we cannot afford the cost of losing such a general in Aragon for a small-scale war... There is no need for reckless assaults there—what is needed is someone steadier to prevent the situation from worsening.”

Turning to Mauche, Albert II asked, “My Chief of General Staff, do you have any recommendations for the new commander of the Aragon expeditionary force?”

After brief thought, Mauche responded promptly:

“General Maximilian von Prittwitz, Your Majesty.”

“Are you confident in his capability?”

“Yes. Although not as outstanding as General Mackensen, he is steady and prudent in command, skilled in defensive and counteroffensive tactics. Having him lead the Aragon campaign should be foolproof.”

“Prittwitz...”

Albert II repeated the name quietly before nodding.

“Very well. Issue his appointment immediately and have him depart at once to the Aragon front to replace General Mackensen.”