September 1st. Exactly one month after the war began, the massive army of the Saxon Empire stood at the gates of Gallic Republic's capital, Paris. Under the operation of the vast War Machine, countless soldiers, artillery, and vehicles were continuously mobilized from Amiens and even within the Saxon Empire, moving southwest.
Amidst the surging torrent heading toward the outer defense lines of Paris, a distinct unit drew considerable attention. Their vehicles were painted with the conspicuous Imperial Guards Insignia. The soldiers had removed the striking spikes from their Peaked Helmets. Their gear and weapons were entirely different from other units—this was the Instruction Assault Battalion, recently reorganized and high on morale.
Morin stood in the passenger seat of a Military Truck serving as a 'temporary command vehicle,' letting the early September wind of the Gallic plains blow across his face. Although his waist injury still caused some minor discomfort, his spirit was renewed, and he looked entirely revitalized, as if the previous pain had never existed.
According to the First Army Group Command Post's order, their mission was to assist the stalled main forces by tearing open the outer Trench defense line of Paris. If successful, they were to continue their deep penetration, destroying the Large Anti-Air Magic Guided Devices the Gauls deployed on the front line, clearing the way for subsequent saturation bombing by Armored Airships.
This was one of the reasons the front line had been slow to advance. Under the threat of the Large Anti-Air Magic Guided Devices, the Armored Airships could not conduct close-range attacks, forced instead to 'lob shells' from a safe distance, resulting in less effective damage to the enemy's Trench fortifications. Destroying the Gallic Anti-Air Magic Guided Devices was a daunting but vital mission, as the enemy would certainly commit a massive force to defending them.
However, General Mackensen entrusted this task to the Instruction Assault Battalion, which in itself was a massive display of trust. Morin naturally intended to live up to the expectations of his mentor.
"Battalion Commander, according to the intelligence provided by Army Group Headquarters, the enemy facing us is the Gallic Colonial Troops, urgently recalled from North Africa—mainly Zouaves and Algerian Chasseurs." Manstein leaned in from the back of the truck to report. "Although their equipment is inferior to their metropolitan counterparts, their combat style is extremely fierce, and they excel at close-quarters combat."
"Colonial Troops?" Morin stroked his chin. "These guys will indeed be more difficult to deal with than the regular Gallic units."
"Yes, Battalion Commander," Manstein added: "And they are becoming increasingly proficient at digging Trenches. I don't know where they learned it, but their Communication Trenches, Firing Trenches, and Artillery Shelters are all well-constructed, making it difficult for our conventional artillery to inflict effective casualties."
Listening to Manstein, Morin couldn't help but sigh quietly. Trench warfare had finally arrived on this soil, only this time, it was the Gauls who initiated it. The good news was that the Instruction Assault Battalion was established based on the historical 'Storm Assault Battalion' (Stoßtruppen), so this was essentially a return to their original doctrine. "The trenches of 1914 meeting a Storm Assault Team with the equipment level of 1918—what kind of clash will that be?" Morin mused internally.
As the Instruction Assault Battalion advanced toward Paris, the First Army Group's vast supply lines and the flanking area, where the Britannian Expeditionary Force was lurking, also began to 'heat up.' Just as General Mackensen had anticipated, the Britannian Expeditionary Force, which had retreated to Rouen, was not idle. They coordinated with Gallic guerrillas, launching frequent harassment attacks against the stretched Saxon Army's logistical arteries.
Reports of supply convoy ambushes were constantly being submitted to the First Army Group Command Post. One report, in particular, caught General Mackensen's attention. It mentioned the appearance of Britannian Order of the Garter Armored Knights during an attack on a supply depot.
"Order of the Garter Armored Knights?" General Mackensen put down the report and looked at his Chief of Staff, Seeckt. "What are the Britannians trying to do? Use Armored Knights to attack our supply convoys? That is not their typical style."
Seeckt pondered for a moment before replying: "Perhaps they are using this method to tie down our main forces and buy time for Paris to organize its defenses."
"No matter what they intend, since they've deployed Armored Knights, we cannot ignore it." General Mackensen immediately made a decision. "Notify the Teutonic Knights to dispatch a squadron to protect our supply lines. Tell them that if they encounter the Order of the Garter Knights, they must completely drive them away!"
The order from the First Army Group Command Post quickly reached the Teutonic Knights. Normally, this escort mission would likely fall to Ludwig's squadron. After all, he was renowned in the Teutonic Knights for his 'flexible command' and often employed clever 'tricks' on the battlefield, making him perfect for skirmishing with enemy Armored Knights.
However, his squadron had suffered significant losses in the Battle of Amiens Street Fighting against the Highland Mage Corps' Seventh-Circle Mages. He himself was still recovering in the Field Hospital, busy writing that shocking report on the 'Two-Seater Armored Knight.' He would not be able to return to duty anytime soon.
Thus, the mission fell to another Armored Knight Squadron that had just completed resupply and rest. The squadron commander, Colonel Erwin—a typical 'Knight-type' officer—immediately led his squadron to deploy at key points along the supply route after receiving the order.
However, a strange situation unfolded. Ever since Colonel Erwin's squadron began their escort mission, the elusive Britannian Armored Knights vanished as if they had melted into thin air. They never appeared again.
"Hmph, a bunch of cowards!" Erwin stood on top of his Armored Knight, looking through his binoculars at the peaceful transport route, and scoffed disdainfully. In his view, this was clearly a sign of the Order of the Garter Knights' cowardice. They must have been terrified by the 'Shaped Charge Armor-Piercing Rounds' that had shone brightly on the Amiens battlefield, only daring to ambush unguarded supply convoys. The moment they saw the Teutonic Knights' banner, they tucked their tails and fled.
Nevertheless, since he was already deployed, he couldn't just sit still. Besides protecting the supply line, clearing the annoying Britannian infantry and Gallic guerrillas, who were acting like flies, also became Colonel Erwin's primary mission. Soon, Colonel Erwin's squadron received a request for coordinated action from an infantry unit. An infantry battalion was preparing to clear a section of the plain on the right flank of the supply line and requested armored support.
Erwin unhesitatingly agreed. As the war progressed, the Teutonic Knights were naturally increasing their coordinated operations with infantry. Soon, three 'Siegfried I' Armored Knights, accompanied by an infantry battalion, marched grandly into the plain on the right flank of the supply route.
When the unit reached a seemingly tranquil farmhouse, the leading infantry Major decided to stop and question the farmer about the situation nearby. The owner of the farm was a Gaul man in his fifties, his face covered in wrinkles, his eyes filled with noticeable wariness and resistance. Faced with fully armed Saxon soldiers and three towering Armored Knights, he appeared anxious, instinctively wiping his hands on his clothes.
The Saxon Major leading the unit tried to speak in a gentle tone, asking the farmer in somewhat broken Gallic [French] if he had seen any Britannian soldiers in khaki uniforms recently.
The farmer remained silent for a moment. His murky eyes glanced at the three Armored Knights, towering like steel giants nearby, before he reluctantly nodded. He stretched out his rough finger and pointed toward a small copse of trees east of the farm, speaking a few mumbled words. The Saxon Major, not fluent in Gallic, clearly didn't notice that the farmer's language was slightly unnatural. But he understood the core message: he had seen over a hundred Britannian soldiers heading in that direction yesterday afternoon.
"Only about a hundred men?" The Major frowned. This intelligence was minimal but better than nothing. This was the common attitude of ordinary civilians in the Gallic Republic—they did not welcome the invaders, but faced with the weapons in Saxon hands, they had no choice but to cooperate submissively.
After gathering the information, the Major prepared to lead the unit away. Before leaving, he glanced at the Gallic tricolor flag fluttering on the farmhouse roof. Out of goodwill, he offered the farmer a piece of advice.
"Sir, I suggest you take that flag down." The farmer paused, looking at him confusedly. The Major patiently explained: "Not all officers in the Saxon Army are as reasonable as I am. If you run into another unit, seeing that flag might give them an excuse to cause you trouble."
Hearing this, a look of gratitude appeared on the farmer's face. He continuously bowed and thanked the Major, murmuring, "Thank you, thank you, Captain."
"You are welcome," the Major waved his hand. "I will also notify other patrol units not to disturb your farm." With that, he ordered the unit to proceed in the direction the farmer had indicated.
The three Armored Knights followed the infantry battalion, their heavy footsteps marching toward the direction the farmer had pointed.
Watching the Saxon unit march away, the gratitude and humility on the farmer's face instantly vanished without a trace. He walked into the house silently, grabbed his tools, and quickly climbed onto the roof, where he removed the Gallic tricolor flag. Then, he took out another folded flag from his coat—a white flag. He slowly raised the white flag up the flagpole. The moment the flag fully unfurled, a clear black square mark, deliberately painted in black, was visible on the bottom right corner of the white cloth.
Having done all this, the farmer looked one last time in the direction the Saxon unit had departed, a cold, strange smile curving his lips.
Meanwhile, in a dense copse of trees about 3 kilometers from the farmhouse. A man wearing a dark green pilot uniform and a scar across his face stood motionless on top of an Armored Knight, observing the distant farmhouse through a monocular telescope. This was Colonel Erwin, the commander of the 'Ranger' Squadron. When he saw the white flag with the special mark raised on the farmhouse roof, a glint of excitement flashed in his sharp, hawk-like eyes.
"The float is moving." He lowered his binoculars and spoke to another officer standing beside the Armored Knight. "Pass the word. The prey has taken the bait and is moving toward preset ambush zone number two."
"Yes, Major," the officer quickly turned and departed. Colonel Erwin's lips curled into the smile of a predator. His carefully laid trap was finally about to spring.
To successfully lure out the Saxon Armored Knights, he had devised a meticulous plan. First, he had John French dispatch several squads of elite soldiers, disguised as Gallic guerrillas. They were to cause minor disturbances near the Saxon supply lines, while deliberately avoiding frontal conflict with the main Saxon patrols. Then, he had an Order of the Garter Armored Knight briefly show itself during a night attack on a supply depot, leaving a clear trail of the Order of the Garter Knights to successfully draw the Saxons' attention.
As he had anticipated, the proud Teutonic Knights fell for the bait, dispatching a squadron of Armored Knights to protect the supply line and drive off the enemy armored forces. The seemingly ordinary farmer was, in fact, a spy planted by Britannian intelligence. As for the farm's original owner? Erwin didn't know, nor did he care. He only knew that everything he had done was to lead the Saxon unit into his carefully selected hunting ground.
Having completed his reconnaissance, Erwin jumped back into his Armored Knight and closed the cockpit hatch. He activated the Communication Stone built into the Armored Knight, quickly establishing contact with the other 'Ranger' Armored Knights participating in the operation.
"Order the Second and Third Squads, once the target enters the ambush zone, prioritize disabling their leg joints. Avoid damaging their core cockpits and primary weapons." Erwin calmly issued his commands. "Remember, our mission is capture, not destruction."
"The First Squad is responsible for eliminating the accompanying infantry; they must not be allowed to interfere with our operation."
After receiving his orders, ten 'Hound Type 4' specialized Armored Knights, all painted in dull green, silently activated their Magic Guided Engines in the woods. They moved without making any unnecessary noise, quickly dispersing to their predetermined ambush points, waiting quietly for the moment the prey stepped into the trap.
A hunt specifically targeting Armored Knights was about to begin.
(End of this Chapter)