novelSusiti Chapter 391: Mistakenly Entering the Imperial Court
Chapter 391: Mistakenly Entering the Imperial Court
“Colonel K” was naturally not Colonel Kentucky (KFC).According to Major Nicolai’s judgment, there was an 80% chance this was the first letter of the other party’s name.
Combined with the clues the instruction unit found in the various safe houses, and the confession of the surviving Britannian intelligence officer, “Colonel K’s” identity was actually not that hard to guess.
All these clues—from the forged documents for weapon transfers to the details spilled by the Britannian agent—ultimately pointed to one name.
Colonel Karl von Kruger.
Deputy Director of Logistics and Supply, Army General Staff.
“I really didn’t expect it to be him.”
Morin put down his cup. As the instruction unit’s scale continuously expanded, he had indeed heard this name, and Kleist and the others had dealt with this person.
“I remember this person always smiling, polite to everyone, and having the nickname ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ among the Army high echelon.”
“It’s often this kind of seemingly harmless ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ whose bite is the most fatal.”
Major Nicolai had regained his composure by now. He ruthlessly crushed his cigarette butt into an ashtray overflowing with them, his eyes terrifyingly sinister.
After all, a massive disaster was almost caused…
“He’s been in that position for six years, his connections span the entire logistics system… He indeed possesses the capability to make those supplies disappear without a trace.”
“Since the target is locked, what next? Make a move directly?”
Morin leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. “However, this guy’s position isn’t considered low, and judging by his name, he’s a Junker noble. If we don’t have a complete chain of evidence, or if something goes wrong during the arrest, won’t you be put in a somewhat passive position?”
“Passive?”
A cold sneer snorted from Major Nicolai’s nose. “Lieutenant Colonel Morin, it’s wartime now… If it were peacetime, I might have to play by the rules with these bureaucrats, but now…”
He stood up, walked to the wall hanging a map of Dresden, and locked his gaze on an area in the Upper City.
“Those brand new MG14 light machine guns are his death warrant… Selling such mass-casualty weapons to an enemy planning terrorist attacks in the capital—this is no longer embezzlement, it’s treason.”
Major Nicolai turned around, his eyes revealing a heart-stopping ruthlessness.
“For traitors, there is no need for procedural justice. We only need to make him disappear, or make him a specimen to warn everyone.”
Morin looked at the murderous intelligence chief and shrugged. Since the professional had spoken, he, the “layman,” was naturally happy to be at leisure.
“Since you put it that way, I naturally have no objections… The instruction unit is at your disposal at any time.”
6:30 AM, the first light of dawn revealed itself.
The Upper City of Dresden was a paradise far removed from the clamor of war.
Along both sides of the streets sat exquisite Baroque-style villas.
Unlike the crowded and noisy Lower City, it was so quiet here you could even hear birds singing.
The people living here were mostly the backbone of the Empire—or those who considered themselves the backbone.
The three-story white house with a garden belonging to Colonel Karl von Kruger stood quietly at a street corner.
This house was expensive to build, and just the annual maintenance cost of that meticulously pruned Gallic-style garden, keeping up with the trend, was no small sum.
As a colonel, Kruger lived even better than some generals of higher rank.
However, in the eyes of outsiders, this was mainly because Kruger’s ancestors were wealthy. It was thanks to the wealth accumulated by his ancestors that this Army Colonel could live his current life.
Um… no one suspected that all this was “created with both hands” by this Army Colonel who usually acted like a “Mr. Nice Guy.”
From a certain perspective, this could be considered a stereotype.
However, this tranquility belonging to high society was brutally shredded a few minutes later.
First came the sound of engines approaching from afar, followed by the harsh sound of brakes echoing in the empty street, startling a flock of foraging pigeons.
Three radiant crystal military trucks fully loaded with soldiers rampaged in and blocked the villa’s gate.
Before the servants in the garden could react, dozens of heavily armed instruction unit soldiers, along with several military police coordinating the “evidence collection,” had already jumped out of the vehicles and quickly surrounded the entire building.
“Move fast! Lockdown all exits!”
The instruction unit officer responsible for on-site command ordered in a hushed voice.
The fully armed soldiers instantly scattered. Their signature steel helmets and the submachine guns slung across their chests looked completely out of place in this Junker noble gathering place of the Upper City.
They nimbly vaulted over the walls, trampled the precious flowers and plants, and quickly took control of every corner of the villa.
“Wh… what is going on here?!”
Hearing the commotion, the villa’s old butler ran out in a panic, a coat draped over his shoulders.
When he saw those dark gun muzzles, his legs went weak and he almost fell to his knees.
“Do… do you know whose house this is? This belongs to Colonel Kruger…”
No one paid attention to this pitiful old butler. Two soldiers stepped forward expressionlessly, grabbed him by the arms on the left and right, and efficiently hauled him aside to detain him temporarily.
The carved main door was kicked open by a burly master sergeant. The originally exquisite door lock shattered instantly under the violence of the military boot.
The massive noise finally alarmed the owner of the house.
Colonel Karl von Kruger, wearing a bathrobe, was running down the spiral staircase from the second floor with a terrified expression.
His hair was somewhat messy, obviously indicating he hadn’t slept very soundly last night; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so easily awakened this morning.
And his usual unhurried “Mr. Nice Guy” mask was completely shattered at this moment.
“What unit are you from… what are you doing?!”
Colonel Kruger gripped the stair railing, trying to summon the authority he usually used to reprimand subordinates, but his trembling voice betrayed his inner fear.
“I am an Imperial Army Colonel! How dare you trespass into an officer’s residence? Are you staging a mutiny?!”
He yelled while subconsciously backing away.
As a result, his elbow accidentally bumped into a plaster bust at the top of the stairs—a portrait he had commissioned from a famous artist to pose as a “culture vulture.”
The plaster bust fell onto the marble floor and shattered. The plaster head rolled to the feet of the master sergeant and was pinned down by a military boot.
“Good morning, Colonel Kruger.”
A military policeman responsible for “negotiation” stepped out from behind the instruction unit soldiers. He didn’t even salute, merely looking at Kruger with the gaze one gives a dead man.
“It seems your sleep quality wasn’t very good last night. Unfortunately, you don’t have time to catch up on sleep now.”
This military policeman didn’t “negotiate” much. He merely greeted Kruger out of politeness, then turned and nodded to the instruction unit commander beside him.
“Sorry to trouble you…”
“No problem~”
Two instruction unit soldiers who received their superior’s signal immediately rushed up the stairs, swiftly pinned Colonel Kruger to the ground, twisted his arms behind his back, and snapped on cold handcuffs.
“No! You can’t do this! I am an Imperial Army Colonel! I demand to see…”
“Take him away!”
Kruger struggled desperately. His bathrobe fell open in the pulling, revealing comical striped pajama pants underneath.
This Army Colonel was dragged out of his own home like a ragdoll.
At the moment he was shoved into the black car, he looked back despairingly at his beautiful villa. His mind was blank, save for one massive question.
Why?
He had planted so many informants in the Ministry of War and had many friends in the General Staff. Why didn’t a single person warn him?
Even a phone call or a message would have been fine!
Of course, this question was destined to remain unanswered.
As the head of Department III, Major Nicolai still possessed basic vigilance and professional competence.
Therefore, after the operation began last night, all personnel aware of the operation’s details were confined within the Army General Staff building and forbidden from leaving or making any communication with the outside world.
In an era without smartphones, this method of physical isolation could obviously effectively block information transmission.
So those parasites within the Army General Staff and the Ministry of War also failed to obtain any useful information immediately, let alone send a warning to Colonel Kruger.
Kruger was quickly taken to Department III’s headquarters and sent straight into an interrogation room.
Thanks to the instruction unit soldiers’ awareness of confidentiality, Colonel Kruger also failed to obtain any useful information from the people who arrested him.
Department III’s interrogation room was located deep inside the building, with no windows. Only a very high-wattage bulb hung overhead, emitting an irritating buzzing sound.
Colonel Kruger slumped in the specially made iron chair. His expensive bathrobe was soaked in cold sweat, clinging tightly to his body, making him look both wretched and comical.
His former majesty and decency vanished completely in this cramped space.
The iron door was pushed open, and Major Nicolai walked in holding a stack of files. Upon seeing him, Colonel Kruger also realized that the situation was irredeemable.
“Mr. K, or should I continue calling you Colonel Kruger?”
Nicolai pulled out a chair and sat down, slamming the file folder heavily onto the table with a muffled thud.
Kruger shuddered, but he still tried hard to maintain his last shred of dignity, gritting his teeth and saying: “I don’t understand what you’re talking about… You forcibly take me from my home, are you rebelling?!”
“Save your voice, I’m afraid you won’t be able to scream later~”
Nicolai ignored Kruger’s howling and pulled out a photograph from the folder.
It was the MG14 light machine gun recovered from the safe house, the serial number on the gun body clearly visible.
“These light machine guns, ammunition, and other munitions were allocated by you from the Dresden armory under the pretext of ‘training attrition’… but they appeared in the safe house of Britannian intelligence personnel.”
“What, are you also responsible for the logistical support of our enemies now?”
Kruger stared fixedly at the photograph. Fine beads of cold sweat seeped from his forehead, and his lips trembled, unable to speak.
And Major Nicolai was still talking, his tone full of sarcasm: “According to our information, you don’t seem to have any channels for obtaining large amounts of money in your daily life… I wonder how you maintain that extravagant lifestyle~”
“Oh right, you also seem to sponsor quite a few… um, so-called ‘impoverished singers’ and ‘impoverished dancers’?”
“I…”
Kruger’s psychological defenses began to crumble, his eyes becoming erratic, and Major Nicolai struck while the iron was hot.
“Why?!”
The major leaned forward, those falcon-like eyes staring fixedly at him: “You are a Junker noble, your family has been loyal to the Empire for generations… How did you become a traitor? What did those Britannians give you? More money? Or some kind of promise?”
Kruger looked up, his eyes somewhat unfocused, but they quickly sharpened again, seemingly grabbing onto a final lifeline.
“I… I have my reasons!”
He leaned forward abruptly, the handcuffs rattling against the table.
“Major Nicolai, listen to me! This country is sick! Those grand nobles, those monopoly conglomerates, they suck the Empire’s blood dry! I did this to… to reshuffle the deck!”
A sickly flush appeared on Kruger’s face, his voice growing impassioned.
As if he were not a prisoner, but a revolutionary giving a speech.
“As long as the Empire suffers a major setback on the front lines, those high echelons occupying positions without doing any work will step down! Then we can establish a new order, an order where even the lower-class commoners can live a good life! I am saving the country through a circuitous route!”
Standing in the adjacent room, listening to the conversation in the interrogation room in real-time through a device similar to a speaking tube, Morin almost choked on the coffee he had just drunk.
“What is a traitor acting all high and mighty for… Or do traitors these days all know how to give themselves so much dramatic flair?”
Morin couldn’t help complaining. In his view, to speak of treason and seeking personal glory in such a refreshing and unconventional way, it was truly a pity Colonel Kruger didn’t become a politician with this eloquence.
In the interrogation room, Major Nicolai was also angered into laughing by this speech.
“What a truly touching set of logic, Colonel Kruger. It’s one thing to deceive others, but don’t deceive yourself…”
Major Nicolai unhurriedly pointed to the MG14 light machine gun recovered from the safe house, the gun body still bearing the steel stamp of a factory subordinate to Schmeisser Weapon Manufacturing Co., Ltd.
“Reshuffle the deck? This is your way of reshuffling the deck?”
Nicolai slammed the photograph onto Kruger’s face, his voice instantly dropping to the freezing point.
“You sell machine guns and hand grenades to the enemy, letting them carry out assassinations in the opera house. This is your so-called ‘for the commoners’?!”
“Those weapons were originally meant to protect our soldiers, yet you handed them to the enemy to shoot our compatriots! This is your so-called ‘reshuffling the deck’?!”
“You are no savior, Kruger… Your bullshit ideals are nothing but a fig leaf you use to cover up your treasonous acts.”
Major Nicolai looked down at Kruger from above, his eyes full of contempt.
“You are just an insatiable parasite, a bastard who sells out his compatriots for personal gain… Even those Britannian intelligence personnel are morally slightly superior to you—at least they are fighting for their own country.”
These words were like a heavy hammer, ruthlessly smashing Kruger’s last shred of psychological defense.
He opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but couldn’t make any sound.
That so-called “noble ideal” appeared so pale and powerless before the bloody facts.
“I… I’ll talk…”
Kruger was like a mangy dog with its spine pulled out. His whole person slumped in the chair, his eyes going completely dark.
“Give me a cigarette… I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Responding to him was Major Nicolai’s merciless slap.
“Scum like you still wants a cigarette?”
“Confess honestly, and you can suffer less torture… It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to confess. We’ll let you confess after you’re dead.”
“…”
What happened next became a matter of course.
With Colonel Kruger speaking up, a great purge aimed at the parasites within the Empire quietly unfolded.
Almost as soon as Kruger named someone, the military police and Department III action personnel mobilized immediately, heading straight for the destinations according to the list.
Then, adhering to the mission execution principle of “rather kill by mistake than let one slip,” they dragged out those guys who normally looked like decent people from their offices and tender traps. And in this process, they also learned of multiple secret strongholds hidden in other cities, and some contact lists.
Morin and the instruction unit did not participate in the subsequent arrests. After confirming the overall situation was settled, he left Department III, which reeked of smoke.
The moment he completely stepped out the gates of the General Staff building, the sunlight hit his face, making him take a deep breath of fresh air.
Major Nicolai had followed him out at some point. Although this intelligence chief’s face bore signs of exhaustion, his eyes were exceptionally bright.
“Is it over?” Morin asked.
“It’s over for you, it’s just beginning for me.”
Nicolai’s tone carried a bit of sincere gratitude: “It’s also thanks to your help this time, Lieutenant Colonel Morin… I have no words to express my thanks.”
For Major Nicolai and Department III, from last night to now, they had essentially achieved a comeback under extremely dangerous circumstances.
In this, Morin and the instruction unit could be said to have helped tremendously.
It could even be said that if Morin hadn’t been at the opera house at the time and hadn’t taken out those assassins, things might have gone straight into a “what if” timeline.
So if Major Nicolai previously felt more admiration for Morin, now he looked at Morin like his own father…
“Just mutual benefit, Major Nicolai.”
Morin turned his head and smiled at the other, answering seriously: “I also hope to have a few more friends who can speak up in the rear, so when my soldiers are risking their lives on the front lines, there are a few less bastards stabbing them in the back.”
Major Nicolai immediately understood Morin’s meaning. For frontline soldiers, those military censors who were annoying to both humans and dogs were indeed difficult people to deal with.
“Rest assured, Lieutenant Colonel Morin… Department III will remember this favor.”
Major Nicolai nodded and continued: “By the way, given the severity of this incident, I believe the high echelon might have a meeting soon specifically to discuss internal security and subsequent strategic adjustments. I hope you, as a ‘deep participant,’ can also attend when the time comes.”
“No problem~”
Bidding farewell to Nicolai, Morin directly had the driver take the car to the Falkenstein Estate.
After this night full of conspiracies and betrayal, he urgently needed something warm and pure to heal himself.
When he returned to the estate, Cecilia was sitting in the side hall drinking tea.
Seeing Morin’s exhausted appearance, she didn’t ask anything, merely setting down her teacup and opening her arms to give him a hug.
For the next two days, Morin also gave himself a good two-day vacation at Cecilia’s estate.
As if to make up for his previous neglect, he spent most of his time accompanying Cecilia and the others.
During the day, he and Helga would be in the workshop discussing how to improve the gas system of the next-generation rifle, or refining the concept of the “general-purpose machine gun,” and discussing content related to rifle grenades and larger-caliber mortars.
In the afternoon, he would patiently listen to Patricia explain those obscure principles of magitech communication.
Um… although most of the time, he was staring blankly at her dazzling long legs.
And at night, it was Cecilia’s exclusive time.
That gentleness and tolerance unique to a mature woman was like a hot spring, washing away all the hostility and fatigue from Morin.
Of course, besides mental soothing, the physical exchange was equally deep and frequent.
Besides pumping Cecilia full like a cream puff night after night, it was doing some exciting activities in various parts of the estate.
During these days, Morin also invited Ludwig, who had rarely returned to the rear, to the estate for a meal, which also allowed Ludwig and Patricia, the two siblings, to reunite.
However, happy times are always fleeting.
Two days later, Morin did not continue to indulge in this tender trap but returned to the station amidst the three’s reluctance to part, continuing to organize the instruction unit’s batch leave and training.
Early the morning of the second day after his return to the instruction unit’s station, a vehicle with special license plates stopped in front of his headquarters.
“Lieutenant Colonel Morin, Major Nicolai requests you to proceed immediately to this address to attend an important meeting.”
The messenger handed over a sealed envelope, his expression serious.
Morin opened the envelope; inside was only a brief pass and an address near the Grand Palace of Dresden.
No meeting agenda, no list of attendees, not even the meeting topic was written.
They didn’t even notify Morin in advance, but came directly to call him to the meeting when it was almost time…
“Acting so mysterious?”
Morin raised an eyebrow, but his intuition told him this matter definitely had to do with the purge operation from two days ago.
After briefly assigning training tasks for the unit, Morin confirmed his officer service uniform was fairly clean and neat, then got in the car and headed to the destination.
The address was located on the wing of the Grand Palace, a gray stone building that looked unremarkable from the outside.
If you didn’t look closely, you might even think it was just an annex of the Grand Palace.
But as Morin’s car approached, he found the security level around it terrifyingly high.
A guard every three steps, a sentry every five steps, and all were Royal Guards using new equipment similar to the instruction unit’s.
And as he drew closer, the system map also provided detailed information on this area—the Supreme Command of the Saxon Empire (OHL).
Morin suddenly understood.
This was the “wartime brain” of the Saxon Imperial Army. Countless orders were issued from here, traveling along telegraph and telephone lines to trenches thousands of kilometers away… The fates of countless soldiers were decided here by a few maps and documents.
According to the “Wartime Mobilization Regulations” of the Saxon Empire, after the war broke out, the Army General Staff as a whole transitioned into a wartime state. Its core personnel always moved with the Emperor or the frontline command.
When the war just broke out, the Supreme Command had actually temporarily moved to Koblenz, and even stayed briefly in Aachen.
The purpose was to facilitate commanding the offensive on the Western Front at that time.
But now, as the fighting on the Western Front fell into a stalemate where neither side could advance, the Supreme Command also returned to the capital.
After showing his officer’s ID, the pass, and going through layers of interrogation, Morin finally entered the interior of this building.
As soon as he entered, a solemn and oppressive atmosphere hit him.
Everyone kept their voices low, as if speaking loudly would disturb some sacred presence here.
A staff officer who had been waiting for a long time came up to him and saluted Morin.
“Lieutenant Colonel Morin, please follow me.”
Morin followed him through corridor after corridor, finally arriving before a set of heavy double doors.
Pushing the doors open, inside was a conference room that was excessively wide.
In the very center of the room sat a massive rectangular mahogany conference table. The tabletop was covered with deep green felt, and documents and water glasses were neatly arranged in front of every seat.
Along the walls on both sides of the conference room were two rows of relatively simple chairs, obviously reserved for observers of insufficient rank to sit at the table.
There were already quite a few people in the conference room, mostly low-to-mid-ranking officers busily distributing materials. Two of them were calibrating a latest-model projection device.
Morin looked around but didn’t see Major Nicolai.
He looked at that massive conference table and, knowing his place, didn’t move closer.
Although he was a lieutenant colonel now, and a “war hero” wearing a Blue Max medal, in this core of the Empire’s power, this little bit of seniority was clearly not enough.
There were too many veterans…
Finding that no one paid him any attention, Morin also found a chair in the corner and sat down, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.
He continued to observe the layout of the conference room.
The main seat of the conference table had its back to a massive map of the Saxon Empire’s territory, densely marked with the situations of various battle lines in red and blue lines.
On both sides of the main seat were a few small metal nameplates. Obviously, the seating here was also arranged.
Morin narrowed his eyes and read those names clearly.
The Chiefs of Staff of the Army, Navy, and Air Force, the Ministers of the three branches, the Imperial Chancellor, the Imperial State Secretary for Foreign Affairs…
For some unknown reason, Morin suddenly thought of an unlucky guy named Lin Chong (A character from the Chinese classic “Water Margin” who was tricked into entering the White Tiger Inner Sanctum, leading to his ruin).