Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 112 Oh wow, the holiday is over.

"It's alright, just some everyday chores," Cecilia replied casually as she walked.

"Sister Cecilia, have you been having something on your mind these past few days?" Morin asked tentatively. "You seem a little unhappy."

Cecilia stopped in her tracks, turned her head, and gazed silently at Morin with her grey-blue eyes.

After a long while, she sighed softly, then said with a hint of grievance:

"I thought you weren't going to ask."

"Fritz, it's so rare for you to come back. I just want to talk to you more. After all, in this huge Dresden, you're the only family I can talk to."

Upon hearing Cecilia's words, Maureen realized that she seemed to have somewhat overlooked her older sister's feelings.
"But it's okay, since you're my brother."

Although she hadn't said anything yet, Cecilia was still happy that Morin had taken the initiative to talk to her—and that it wasn't to ask for money.

"Don't worry, Cecilia~ I promise I'll spend more time with you during this period, and I also have a lot of questions I need to ask you."

"That's what you said."

A smile finally appeared on Cecilia's face.

After receiving Morin's assurance, her mood improved significantly, and the vague sense of distance she had felt earlier dissipated.

The two walked side by side down the soft carpeted corridor, and the atmosphere was no longer as somber as before.

"By the way, how did things go at the Patent Office today?" Cecilia asked casually.

"It went fairly smoothly~"

After organizing his thoughts, Morin explained simply, "I developed a technology on the battlefield. Because it involves military secrets, it went through the confidential patent process. If it passes the review, I should receive a considerable amount of compensation."

"Compensation?"

Cecilia stopped and looked at him with some concern.

"Fritz, you can't let yourself go back to your old ways just because you have a little money."

In her view, the "considerable" amount that Morin mentioned was probably only tens of thousands, or at most a hundred thousand marks.

This amount of money might be a huge sum for an ordinary person.

But for Maureen, who was used to a life of luxury, it probably won't be long before she squanders it all.

"Don't worry, sister, I'm not the same person I used to be anymore," Morin assured her with a smile.

"I don't plan to squander this money; I want to use it for some investments."

“Investment?” Cecilia was somewhat surprised; she hadn’t expected Morin to consider such a thing.

What do you want to invest in?

"I'm thinking of seeing if I can start a weapons manufacturing company or something," Morin said, expressing his idea.

Of course, he couldn't tell Cecilia that he did this because he was worried about potential inflation that could render the Imperial Mark worthless overnight.

In this situation, having real industries and gold reserves is always better than having a pile of worthless paper.

He could only come up with another excuse that sounded more reasonable, and which wasn't really an excuse at all.

"As you know, on the battlefield, strange ideas always pop into my head."

Morin explained, “Some ideas could be very useful if they could be made into reality. So I thought that if I had my own weapons company, it would be easier for me to put these ideas into practice and conduct some experiments and research.”

After hearing Morin's explanation, Cecilia remained silent for a moment.

Looking into Morin's warm eyes, a relieved smile gradually appeared on her face.

That boy who once only knew how to pursue pleasure seems to have truly grown up through the baptism of war.

"I'm so glad you have this thought, Fritz~ But don't worry too much, your sister will always take care of you."

Cecilia said with relief, but she clearly did not yet realize how much Morin's compensation was.

"Setting up a company is a very complex matter, involving many aspects, and requires a large initial investment. Your compensation may not be enough."

"Sister, 2000 million Imperial Marks should be enough, right?"

Cecilia was stunned. She wondered if she had misheard the number, but she was more sure that Maureen was joking.

Fritz, I know you want to make me happy, but you don't have to.

“Really, Sister Cecilia, let me tell you the details.”

Morin interrupted her and then told Cecilia everything about how she gained the Crown Prince's favor and what happened afterward.

After listening to Morin's story, Cecilia felt dizzy, as if she had been greatly shocked.

She couldn't help but want to lean against the wall, but Morin was quick-witted and caught her first.

"Fritz, what you're saying feels like a story to me. I need to process it all."

"Okay, sister~"

After dinner, the head maid Luna originally planned to let Cecilia review tomorrow's schedule.

However, they found the study door tightly closed. According to the maids, the lady and the young master went to the study after dinner, seemingly to discuss something.

Looking at the closed door, Luna seemed lost in thought.

Inside the study, just a door away, after Cecilia's brief description, Morin gained a deeper understanding of the 2000 million compensation.

Cecilia controls the 'Falkenstein-Eisenstein United Industries', which is the largest crystal industry giant in the Saxon Empire. It has multiple mines and refineries in the Empire's overseas colonies.

Annual sales amount to 9-10 billion Imperial Marks.

Although Cecilia did not say how much the actual annual profit was, she told Morin that it was basically around 7%-10%.

This also means that the actual profit in a year will not exceed 1 million Imperial Marks.

Morin's patent damages alone accounted for one-fifth of the giant's actual profits.

What does this mean?
This shows that Crown Prince Georg is quite capable.
Thinking about this, Morin became even more determined to cling to two powerful figures.

Soon, Cecilia and Morin also talked about investing in and building a factory.

"Fritz, I can help you with everything related to the company, from registration and legal document preparation to the selection of the future factory site, equipment procurement, and even the recruitment of skilled workers."

"Really? That's wonderful!" Morin exclaimed with delight.

He was worried about how to handle these trivial matters, since he had no experience in running a company.

Unexpectedly, Cecilia solved everything with just one sentence.

It feels so good to have a rich older sister.

"Of course it's true. I will support you unconditionally in whatever you want to do."

After realizing Morin's 'transformation', Cecilia looked at him with almost doting eyes.

"After all, you are an Imperial soldier. You should focus your energy on your duties and not let these trivial matters affect you."

At this point, a hint of worry flashed in Cecilia's eyes. She sighed and said:
"I was originally going to advise you to retire again, but now that His Highness the Crown Prince values ​​you so much, it doesn't seem right for you to just take the patent compensation and run away."

"That's true"

The two chatted about their vision for the future company until late at night.

Cecilia's keen business acumen and extensive experience, along with her view that "a war between the European nations is inevitable," led Maureen to re-evaluate this "noblewoman."

This also gave him a clearer and more concrete plan for his hasty idea of ​​'starting a company'. The atmosphere between the two also became more harmonious than ever before.

They chatted until after 10 p.m. When Morin got up to say goodbye and prepare to go back to his room to rest, Cecilia personally saw him to the door.

Goodnight, Fritz.

"Good night, sister."

The next morning, Morin finally recovered from the dizziness brought on by the 2000 million marks.

This huge sum of money even allowed him to sleep two extra hours, unaffected by his biological clock.

However, while money is important, what Morin is most concerned about right now is how to transform this huge sum of money into a more powerful force.

He planned to have a serious talk with Cecilia today about setting up a weapons manufacturing company and where to recruit some reliable gun designers.

However, just as he finished breakfast and was waiting for Cecilia to wake up, the butler suddenly found him.

"Young Master Morin, this is a call from the Ministry of the Army. Please answer it immediately."

Army Ministry?
Mo Lin's heart skipped a beat, and without delay, he immediately followed the butler to the study.

The voice on the other end of the phone was concise and authoritative. After confirming his identity, it said only one sentence: "Lieutenant Morin, please report to the Army Department immediately."

As Maureen hung up the phone and returned to the lobby to leave, Cecilia also got up and came downstairs.

Upon learning of the phone call, a hint of worry appeared in Cecilia's grey-blue eyes.

"Weren't you on vacation? Why is the Army suddenly contacting you at this time? Is there something urgent?"

"I don't know, they just told me to come over immediately."

"I'll send someone off to you."

“No need,” Maureen shook her head. “I can drive there myself.”

Are you sure you can drive?

Morin paused for a moment, realizing that he didn't really understand the vehicles driven by the crystal.

Even if it's similar to the car from before he time-traveled, he wouldn't drive such an "old relic." If it stalled halfway through, it would only cause trouble.

Morin immediately stopped insisting, and Cecilia walked over to him and gently straightened the wrinkles in his uniform.

"Come back soon. If anything happens, have someone send a message back." Her voice was very soft.

Compared to the General Staff, which held overall command over military affairs, the Army Ministry was more like the administrative center of the Imperial Army.

He was in charge of all the trivial matters, from military organization and equipment supply to officer personnel management, making him the 'chief steward' of the entire army.

The carriage carrying Morin stopped in front of the Army Department.

This is a Saxon-style building with a heavy style and rigid lines. The guards standing at the entrance are upright and exude an imposing aura.

He identified himself, and soon an officer wearing the rank of lieutenant colonel came out of the building.

"Lieutenant Morin?"

“Yes, sir!” Morin immediately saluted him.

"Come with me." The lieutenant colonel returned the salute, his attitude very friendly. "Don't be nervous, it's a good thing."

He led Maureen through a long corridor to a private reception room.

"Today is mainly to award you your medal," the lieutenant colonel explained. "Your heroic performance in the battle of Aragon has already spread among the army's high command."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than another door to the room was pushed open.

An elderly man dressed in a general's uniform, with the rank of general on his shoulders and a serious expression, walked in.

Morin's breathing became rapid, not because of the other person's rank.

Rather, it's about the other person's identity.

The general in question was Erich von Falkingham, Minister of War of the Saxon Empire.

In the world before he traveled through time, he had an even more famous nickname—the Butcher of Verdun.

Morin instinctively straightened his chest and softened his breathing.

Without wasting any words, Falkin walked straight up to Morin, his deep gaze lingering on Morin's young face for a moment.

"Lieutenant Friedrich Morin, your performance on the front lines in Seville is worthy of the honor of a Saxon soldier."

His voice was steady and powerful. An adjutant stepped forward with a velvet tray on which lay two medals.

Falkenham personally picked up the Iron Cross First Class and carefully pinned it to Morin's chest, then similarly pinned on the Seville Battle Medal.
"The medals of your soldiers will be distributed to them once they return to their units."

Falkinham finished speaking, nodded to him, and then turned and left the room, acting swiftly and decisively without any hesitation.

Only after the door closed did Morin slowly exhale.

The lieutenant colonel next to him patted him on the shoulder with a smile: "Don't be nervous, this is just the minister's style. Congratulations, Lieutenant Morin, the youngest recipient of the Iron Cross First Class in the Empire."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome."

The lieutenant colonel gestured for him to sit down, then took a document from his briefcase.

"Next, there is something even more important to tell you."

His expression turned serious.

"Under the personal impetus of His Highness the Crown Prince, the Ministry of War has officially approved the formation of a brand-new combat unit—the First Training Assault Battalion of the Saxon Royal Guard."

"And you, Lieutenant Morin, will be promoted to Army Captain."

The lieutenant colonel looked him in the eyes and said, word by word:

"He will also be appointed as the first battalion commander, with full authority over the formation, training, and command of this unit."

To be honest, Morin didn't expect Crown Prince Georg to be so efficient, having only been back in the country for two or three days.

However, he was still somewhat worried, since he really had no experience commanding battalion-level units and hadn't learned it in military academy.

"This is a joint decision made by the General Staff and His Highness the Crown Prince."

The lieutenant colonel in charge of personnel appointments from the Army Department continued to add:

"In a state of war, the 1st Training Assault Battalion of the Imperial Guard will not be directly subordinate to any combat unit, but will be directly under the command of the General Staff."

Morin forced down his excitement and asked cautiously, "Sir, what preparations do I need to make?"

Upon hearing this question, the lieutenant colonel could no longer maintain his serious expression, and a somewhat strange smile appeared on his face.

"The Army Ministry knows of your outstanding military achievements and believes in your abilities, but..."

“We are also concerned that you lack experience in commanding battalion-level units.”

"Therefore, after careful consideration, we have decided to shorten your vacation."

Morin's heart skipped a beat; she had a bad feeling.

"Six days later, you will travel to the Saxon War Academy for a three-month assault training program."

"The goal is to enable you to master all the knowledge and skills required to command a battalion-level unit as quickly as possible."

(End of this chapter)