Chapter 565: When Morin’s Teammates Act Like Human Beings...

In truth, the members of the Instruction Brigade's military inquisition team had reached a conclusion:

Major General Morin was getting too close to the National Army, particularly the communists of the International Brigades.

Especially Morin's meeting with them where no official business was discussed. To the young inquisitors led by Lieutenant Fischer, this was an undeniable overstep.

However, Major Klose hadn't offered much of an opinion at the time, remaining completely silent during their internal discussions. This led the others to believe he tacitly agreed with their conclusion.

To Lieutenant Fischer's surprise, Major Klose was now spinning a completely different narrative.

Meanwhile, after a brief silence, Major Klose continued his report.

In his view, Major General Morin did indeed interact frequently with Western Rus National Army personnel, but this was entirely necessary for joint operational coordination. Today's daytime defensive battle perfectly illustrated this point.

Although the Instruction Brigade had only arrived in Rzhyshchiv a few days ago, their operational coordination with the National Army garrison was incredibly tight, resulting in a brilliant counterattack.

As for the issue of overly intimate communication with International Brigade members, Major Klose saw it as simple human nature. After all, they had fought shoulder-to-shoulder in the Kingdom of Aragon. That constituted battlefield camaraderie, not an overstep.

Major Klose finished speaking and stopped. The room plunged back into silence.

Though Lieutenant Fischer desperately wanted to say something, as a mere lieutenant facing his two superiors, he didn't dare speak out of turn.

After an unknown amount of time, Colonel Meissen across the desk let out a scoff.

"I've been an army inquisitor for a long time, and this is the first time I've heard an inquisitor speak up for the unit he's supervising..."

Major Klose's expression shifted, and he quickly replied, "Colonel, I am not speaking up for them... I am merely stating the facts."

"Mhm, I see..."

Colonel Meissen didn't dwell on the issue.

"So, Major Klose, your concluded assessment is that, up to this point, Major General Morin and the Instruction Brigade have committed no overstepping behaviors?"

"Yes, sir."

Major Klose nodded, his movement crisp.

Colonel Meissen stared at him for a few seconds before retracting his gaze, his fingers resuming their tapping on the desk.

"Alright, understood."

Major Klose breathed a sigh of relief internally, but didn't dare show it on his face.

"Major General Morin's meeting should be wrapping up soon. Wait for him to finish and meet up with him." Colonel Meissen's tone returned to flat professionalism. "Rest at Army Headquarters tonight, and return with them tomorrow morning... Dismissed."

"Yes, Colonel."

Major Klose stood at attention, turned, and prepared to leave.

"Lieutenant Fischer."

Colonel Meissen's voice rang out behind them. Major Klose's footsteps hitched.

"You stay."

Lieutenant Fischer stiffened noticeably but remained in place. Major Klose glanced back at him; Fischer didn't meet his eyes, staring straight ahead instead.

Major Klose pushed the tent flap aside and stepped out.

The moment the night wind hit him, he heard the flap drop shut behind him, sealing the light and the two men inside into another world.

Only Colonel Meissen and Lieutenant Fischer remained in the tent.

Colonel Meissen didn't speak immediately. He tapped the desk a few more times, fixing Fischer with an intensely pressuring stare before finally opening his mouth.

"Lieutenant Fischer, I noticed you've been wanting to say something since earlier."

Lieutenant Fischer stood ramrod straight, his Adam's apple bobbing. Colonel Meissen continued: "Your direct superior is gone now. Speak your mind."

Hearing this, Lieutenant Fischer took a deep breath and spoke.

"Colonel, regarding Major Klose's report... I believe it is biased."

"Oh?"

"Major General Morin engaged in at least two non-official interactions with the communists of the International Brigades in Rzhyshchiv. I witnessed this with my own eyes! Major Klose raised no objections during our prior internal discussions, yet now he suddenly changes his—"

Lieutenant Fischer paused, seemingly weighing his words.

"I suspect Major Klose's judgment has been influenced by certain... subjective factors."

"Subjective factors," Colonel Meissen repeated the phrase.

"Yes," Lieutenant Fischer's voice was tight. "This Major General Morin... You've read his file, Colonel. He is extremely adept at cultivating relationships with those around him. I suspect Major Klose might have..."

"You think he's been compromised by Morin?"

Lieutenant Fischer didn't answer directly, but his silence was an answer in itself.

Colonel Meissen scoffed again.

"Lieutenant Fischer."

"Here."

"How old are you?"

"Uh... twenty-three, Colonel."

"Twenty-three." Colonel Meissen stood up, walking around the desk to stand in front of Lieutenant Fischer.

"Alright, I've heard what you have to say. Go back and pack your things."

Lieutenant Fischer was stunned. "Colonel?"

"You won't be returning to Rzhyshchiv. I'll assign you a new posting tomorrow."

"..."

Lieutenant Fischer's face changed. "Colonel, what do you mean? Is it because I spoke out against Major Klose—"

"It has nothing to do with him."

Colonel Meissen cut him off. His tone wasn't harsh, but it left no room for negotiation.

"You are no longer suited to work alongside the Instruction Brigade. Go somewhere else."

Lieutenant Fischer's lips pressed into a thin line. He stood rooted to the spot for a long moment.

"Yes, sir!"

He finally saluted, turned, and left.

The tent flap lifted and fell, and the tent returned to silence.

Standing beneath a tree near the Army Military Inquisition Department's camp, Major Klose struck his third match.

The wind had blown out the first two. The third finally lit his cigarette. He took a deep drag, the smoke slowly drifting from his nostrils.

He was thinking about what he had just said. He had indeed spoken according to his own judgment... It had nothing to do with Morin's complex background, or at least, that's what Major Klose told himself.

Major General Morin's behavior over the past few days didn't constitute an overstep by any metric.

Chatting with the International Brigade?

Personal acquaintance. When you've bled together on a battlefield, who wouldn't exchange a few words?

Coordinating too closely with the National Army?

Today's daytime battle was the best proof. If Major General Morin and Yegorov hadn't coordinated perfectly, how could they have pulled off such a beautiful counterattack?

But what worried Major Klose was Colonel Meissen's final scoff.

"The first time I've heard an inquisitor speak up for the unit he's supervising."

The words were spoken lightly, but to an inquisitor's ears, they carried immense weight.

Being labeled "unfirm in one's stance" was not a good thing in this system.

But he didn't regret it... And again, this had nothing to do with Morin's complex background.

Halfway through his cigarette, the sound of footsteps approached from the darkness.

"Major Klose?"

He looked up and saw Colonel Meissen's adjutant, trailed by another silhouette.

"The Colonel asked me to inform you that Lieutenant Fischer will no longer participate in the Instruction Brigade's supervision starting tomorrow."

Major Klose paused, the cigarette hanging from his lips.

"...What?"

"Simultaneously, the Colonel has assigned a new inquisitor to replace Lieutenant Fischer, integrating into your team immediately."

The adjutant stepped aside, gesturing to the young officer behind him.

"This is Second Lieutenant Mahn."

In the faint moonlight, Major Klose saw the young man's face clearly.

Very young, probably twenty-one or two. The brand-new second lieutenant insignia on his shoulders was almost blindingly bright. He stood there awkwardly, his salute visibly stiff.

"Second Lieutenant Mahn, reporting for duty!"

Major Klose took the cigarette from his mouth and looked the young man up and down.

That expression, that nervous energy...

He was suddenly reminded of himself when he transferred to become an official inquisitor after the war broke out. Back then, he too stood before his superior, shoulders tense, terrified of saying the wrong thing.

"Alright." Major Klose tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it. "Follow me."

After taking a few steps, he stopped and turned back to the adjutant.

"Did Colonel Meissen have any other instructions?"

"No. The Colonel said you should just head back with Major General Morin first thing tomorrow morning."

The adjutant left after speaking, leaving Major Klose and Second Lieutenant Mahn standing there.

Replacing Fischer with a complete rookie?

Major Klose couldn't fathom this move. Logically, while Lieutenant Fischer was a bit radical, he was at least an experienced inquisitor; he knew how to dig up what needed digging.

And this Second Lieutenant Mahn...

Did Colonel Meissen mean he didn't want anyone to actually dig anything up?

Or maybe...

"Major?" Second Lieutenant Mahn called out softly. "Are we going?"

"Mhm, let's go."

Major Klose gathered his thoughts and led the rookie toward the parking area.

As they approached the direction of the meeting tent, they happened to see two figures walking out.

It was Morin and Manstein.

Under the dim nearby lights, the young general's face didn't look pleased. He was speaking to his Chief of Staff in a hushed voice, occasionally waving his hands in complaint.

Major Klose quickened his pace, leading Second Lieutenant Mahn to meet them.

...

When Colonel Meissen's adjutant returned to the tent, the Colonel was the only one inside.

Several documents were spread out on the desk. The oil lamp's flame flickered in the night breeze brought in by the tent flap. Colonel Meissen was signing one of the documents, not even looking up.

"Done?"

"Yes, Colonel... Major Klose has taken Second Lieutenant Mahn."

Colonel Meissen nodded, put down his pen, and gathered the signed documents.

The adjutant stood at the door, hesitating, but ultimately couldn't hold back.

"Colonel, forgive my presumption... Didn't Lieutenant Fischer's account contradict Major Klose's? Why was he the one replaced?"

Colonel Meissen sighed and pushed his chair back.

"If I hadn't replaced that hotheaded idiot Fischer today, the one getting replaced would be me very soon."

The adjutant was even more confused. Colonel Meissen looked at him, seemingly unsurprised by his bewilderment.

"What do you think the job of a military inquisitor is?"

"To supervise whether frontline generals' behaviors comply with regulations..."

"Only half right," Colonel Meissen interrupted. "Our job is indeed supervision, but what is the prerequisite for supervision? It's that the war can be won."

The adjutant remained silent.

"In the current situation, a war is being fought on the front lines, and the outcome is far from decided... At times like this, a military inquisitor's job is to ensure the unit doesn't collapse into chaos, and to ensure the commander doesn't commit treason or defect... Not to nitpick over bullshit like 'did he chat too much with an allied unit?'."

Colonel Meissen's tone was flat, but his words were blunt.

"That young man Fischer has professional competence, but he can't distinguish between what's important and what's trivial... On the battlefield, a military inquisitor who can't prioritize is more dangerous than one who is derelict in duty."

The adjutant began to understand, but hadn't fully grasped it yet.

"Do you know what happened with the First Army on the Western Front previously?" Colonel Meissen asked suddenly.

"You mean..."

"When Major General Morin was still a lieutenant colonel, three military inquisitors in the First Army planned to make a move against him."

Colonel Meissen recalled rumors he had heard from his superiors at the time.

"Their justifications were ten times more exaggerated than what Fischer spouted today... They claimed Lieutenant Colonel Morin colluded with the enemy on the battlefield and ordered his men not to fire."

The adjutant's eyebrows twitched. He indeed remembered the incident known in the army as the "Christmas Truce."

"And then?"

"And then those three never even saw Morin's face before they were all transferred out."

Colonel Meissen continued in a complex tone: "Where they went after being transferred, I don't know... But ever since that incident, assigning military inquisitors to the Instruction Brigade has been repeatedly 'delayed', pushed back again and again, until this Eastern Front campaign finally put it back on the schedule."

The room was quiet for a while.

"Do you understand now?" Colonel Meissen looked at his adjutant.

The adjutant was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.

"I think I understand..."

"Good."

Colonel Meissen leaned forward, picking up the newly signed documents and organizing them slightly.

"That Major General commanding the Instruction Brigade is currently the sharpest sword in His Majesty's hand. You can check if the sword is rusty, but you cannot try to block the sword just as it's being drawn."

"Then Second Lieutenant Mahn... Colonel, you sent him over..."

"A rookie won't cause trouble."

Colonel Meissen walked toward the door, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and gesturing for his adjutant to join him outside for a smoke.

"And Major Klose is a smart man. He'll control the situation."

"But what if something actually goes wrong?"

Colonel Meissen stopped at the tent flap, not looking back.

"Then we wait until the war is won to deal with it."

Early the next morning, several vehicles departed the Army Headquarters camp, heading back toward Rzhyshchiv along the same dirt road.

Morin sat in the back seat, eyes closed, resting. Manstein was reviewing a preliminary topographical survey document borrowed from the Army operations section the night before.

The cabin occasionally jolted from the bumpy road, but both were used to it.

Through the rearview mirror, Morin noticed the personnel in the trailing staff car had changed.

The nitpicky lieutenant was gone, replaced by a much younger-looking officer.

"Erich."

"Hm?"

"Looks like the Inquisition team in the car behind us swapped a member."

Manstein turned to look back, then turned around.

"Seems like that... Lieutenant Fischer is gone."

"Mhm, I noticed," Morin closed his eyes again.

"General, what do you think this means?"

"It means I have friends in high places~"

"..."

Hearing Morin's classic, half-joking response, Manstein didn't press further, lowering his head to continue studying his map.

The vehicles bounced forward as the sky outside gradually brightened. They still had nearly two hours of driving before reaching Rzhyshchiv.

Morin closed his eyes, mentally reviewing the tasks for the next few days.

He couldn't stop the troop deployment, so he had to do everything possible to perfect his part of the operation.

Topographical reconnaissance, attack route planning, crossing point selection, coordination protocols with allied forces...

And one other equally important matter.

Grand Master Leonia of the Teutonic Order would arrive at the front with "goodies" in the next day or two, meaning more Armored Knights would be attached to the Instruction Brigade.

While Ludwig's six Armored Knights won their last encounter, they did so under ideal conditions with preparation and distance.

Once the offensive began and they crossed the Dnieper, the combat scenarios would become vastly more complex. In a meeting engagement, adequate preparation would become a serious issue.

The tires hit a pothole, jarring the car. Manstein used the opportunity to slip his pencil into his notebook and looked up at Morin.

"General, one more thing... Regarding General Alekseyev mentioning those Cossack cavalries at the meeting last night."

"Yes, what about them?"

"If those Cossack cavalries are truly integrated into the attack sequence..."

Manstein paused, then continued, "We need to figure out exactly how to use them. Cavalry might indeed have a mobility advantage over vehicles on muddy roads during the rasputitsa, but their discipline and coordination..."

"You're worried the Cossacks will charge too fast when we're winning, and run even faster when we're losing?"

Manstein chuckled at this, but then nodded seriously.

"Pretty much."

"Alright, I'll factor that in."

Morin stretched. Not being used to sleeping on cots, he hadn't slept well at Army HQ yesterday.

"Let's get the topography sorted first before worrying about the rest... Right, during last night's meeting, how many engineers and bridging units did the Eighth Army promise to allocate for the river crossing operations?"

Manstein flipped through his notebook. "An additional three engineer battalions, plus one bridging unit directly under Army command. The National Army also promised to provide one engineer battalion in support."

"Is it enough?"

"Depends on the crossing width. If we choose the section downstream of Rzhyshchiv, it's barely enough to build pontoon bridges, but there's very little redundancy."

Hearing this, Morin frowned. "Very little redundancy won't cut it. With a hundred thousand troops, I don't want any problems caused by the pontoon bridges."

"That's why I marked several alternative crossing points. We need to conduct on-site reconnaissance once we get back." Manstein pointed to the marks in his notebook.

"Good." Morin nodded, adding, "You and Rundstedt keep a close eye on this. Once we're back, dispatch people to scout immediately."

"Understood."

The convoy continued down the bumpy dirt road. Morin closed his eyes again, but his mind spun entirely around the winding blue river on the map.

Cross the river, penetrate deep behind enemy lines, and smash through the Southern Army's flank.

It sounded beautiful, but beautiful plans were often the most fragile upon contact with the enemy.

Over the next few days, the front lines proceeded exactly as intelligence predicted: the White Army launched no large-scale offensives.

Combat in the Kyiv sector devolved into an intermittent tug-of-war.

White Army forces in the outer urban zones defended in place, attempting to consolidate the few blocks they had captured.

The National Army continuously organized small-scale counterattacks, engaging in a war of attrition over the ruined buildings.

The Rzhyshchiv sector was even quieter.

Denikin's Southern Army seemed to be digesting the losses from the first two days, drastically reducing crossing attempts and maintaining only artillery fire and reconnaissance patrols.

During this window of superficial calm, massive National Army deployments were quietly taking place on the west bank of the Dnieper.

However, these deployments were not entirely silent.

Brusilov intensified aerial reconnaissance over the Kyiv sector. White Army recon planes flew over the Dnieper almost daily, despite facing interception and pursuit by the Eighth Army Aviation Squadron every single time.

Some recon planes were shot down, but many successfully returned with photographs and reports.

These reports were swiftly compiled and sent to the White Army High Command... Specifically, to Brusilov's desk.

The reports were crystal clear: the Provisional Government was shifting massive troop concentrations toward Kyiv.

The officers of the White Army General Staff engaged in heated discussions over this.

"They are reinforcing Kyiv's defenses."

"Makes sense. The first day's attack pushed into the city; of course they're terrified."

"Troop shifts mean their other sectors are thinly defended. If the Southern Army intensifies its offensive..."

"The reports also indicate a decrease in enemy troop density in the Rzhyshchiv sector..."

"The Rebels are at the end of their rope! They've pushed all their chips into Kyiv. We just need one more full-scale offensive!"

The White Army officers' discussions were filled with optimism.

Only Brusilov, sitting at the far end of the table, hadn't spoken a word from start to finish.

He held an aerial photograph. The image was blurry, but a marching column moving from somewhere in the south toward Kyiv was discernible.

As the command room gradually quieted down, Brusilov finally looked up.

"Gentlemen."

Everyone's attention snapped to him immediately.

"I have a question."

Brusilov placed the photograph on the desk and tapped it with his finger.

"Why has the effectiveness of our aerial reconnaissance suddenly become so good these past few days?"

The room fell silent for a moment.

"General, you mean..."

"Our recon planes are intercepted daily, and we've lost quite a few... Yet the surviving aircraft always manage to bring back valuable intelligence, particularly regarding the enemy's troop reinforcements toward Kyiv. It's crystal clear, unit after unit."

Brusilov tapped the desk lightly.

"Why do the Saxons want us to see this?"