From the original owner's hazy memories, Morin pieced together that the Aragon Kingdom had plunged into an "alternate-world Spanish Civil War," decades ahead of schedule, triggered by royal succession and national development disputes.
The Saxon Empire-backed "Nationalist Army" was steadily losing ground to the "Royal Army," supported by the Sacred Britannia Empire.
Intelligence increasingly indicated that Britannia forces had landed via sea in Royal Army-controlled areas, poised to intervene directly and end the conflict.
Seeing their interests in Aragon threatened, Emperor Albert II of the Saxon Empire could no longer sit idle.
He promptly ordered the General Staff to draw six brigades—twelve infantry regiments—from various units to enter Aragon first, under the pretext of "assisting allies in stabilizing the situation."
More division-level forces were mobilizing in phases, ready to follow and provide "backup" for the Nationalists.
In this world, the Aragon Kingdom possessed a larger swath of territory near the Mediterranean compared to the Spain in Morin's memories.
This extra land allowed the Saxon Empire and Aragon to share a border.
The 16th Infantry Brigade, including Morin's assigned 33rd Infantry Regiment, was among those dispatched by the General Staff.
Thus, upon receiving his orders, Morin found the 33rd had already departed by military train.
He could only follow the station staff's advice and await the next train heading directly to Aragon.
Fate worked in wondrous ways.
That train carried General Mackensen's military observation group.
Even more remarkably, as the old man spotted the familiar figure boarding at the window, he had the previous day's telegram—requesting special care for Morin and a safe rear reassignment—tucked in his pocket.
Perhaps recalling his deceased comrade, or seeking to honor his friend's legacy by forging the descendant into a true Saxon "iron-blooded soldier," Mackensen decided to toughen Morin.
Upon arrival, he dragged Morin into the observation group as a "senior orderly," accompanying their operations until completion, before reporting to his unit.
The Saxon Empire's intelligence capabilities didn't disappoint Morin.
Gaps loomed in tracking Britannia landing forces and Royal Army movements.
Thus, through sheer coincidence, Morin encountered the ambush targeting the group outside Seville, captured alongside Mackensen.
As for why a lieutenant general would lead a cadre of officers into unknown foreign territory for observation—well, that was a Saxon military tradition.
This martial empire had forged itself through ceaseless wars.
"Senior leaders personally scouting the front lines" was among its more "normal" reckless customs.
Moreover, Mackensen intended a "non-disruptive, swift, flexible" covert reconnaissance.
He even omitted his cumbersome "general's guard"—the superhuman tin cans who'd stormed the cellar.
What puzzled Morin was how such a high-level, secretive group could suffer a prepared ambush.
He suspected an internal leak—likely a mole in the empire had tipped off the observation group's route!
The alternative—that Britannia's intelligence was superior—seemed unlikely for this "British reincarnation" nation.
Before Morin could unravel why Albert II was so eager to backstop the Nationalists, this relative lull ended.
Over a dozen orderlies with leather document pouches—messengers—hurried into Mackensen's tent.
Soon, they emerged and dashed to the camp's periphery.
Spotting Morin alone, one approached and saluted.
"Are you Lieutenant Morin?"
"Yes, that's me."
Morin nodded, eyeing the young messenger curiously, offering a polite smile.
The youth returned a shy grin upon seeing his demeanor.
"Lieutenant Morin, please follow me. I'm heading to the 33rd Infantry Regiment, 1st Battalion camp to relay regimental orders. The general instructed me to take you to report while I'm at it."
The 16th Infantry Brigade hadn't yet engaged in combat, and this area fell under Nationalist control, so the brigade's camps were consolidated.
The two regimental HQs, along with the brigade HQ, plus an attached artillery and cavalry regiment, were stationed in the main camp.
The six infantry battalions—primary combat units—formed a semi-circular screen facing Seville.
Saxon regimental units lacked field telephones, relying on messengers for orders.
After leaving the brigade area, Morin followed the youth through the moonlit darkness toward the 33rd's 1st Battalion.
"Lieutenant, after disembarking, you should've reported to regimental HQ before heading to your company."
"But who knew you'd be swept up by the observation group on the same train and run into this mess? Thank goodness you returned unscathed!"
"The regiment's buzzing that you're the general's relative, which is why a lieutenant joined the group."
"Is General Mackensen really your foster father?"
The young messenger, Schmidt, was quite the talker, brimming with youthful energy and vitality.
After a few exchanges, sensing the "miraculously survived" lieutenant had no airs, he opened up.
But as the gossip veered increasingly absurd, Morin interjected.
"Ahem… you're getting carried away. If Mackensen were truly my foster father, how could I still be here?"
"You have a point, but why did the general let you join the observation group?" Schmidt asked, puzzled.
"Well, the general and I do share some connection…"
"See! I knew you weren't ordinary!"
Schmidt pumped his fist excitedly, as if uncovering a monumental secret.
Morin could only smile wryly at his back, pondering before asking curiously, "Schmidt, have you ever wondered why we're in Aragon?"
"Of course! We're here to break Britannia's energy monopoly, allowing all nations to share industrial progress!"
Schmidt replied without hesitation, startling Morin.
Listen to that—a frontline grunt in an imperial state spouting such words?
Morin expected rote answers like "obeying orders" or "a soldier's duty."
Yet Schmidt's response exceeded a messenger's expected worldview.
This indicated Saxon propaganda had permeated the ranks, at least among the enlisted.
"Breaking energy monopoly, sharing technological progress…"
Morin mulled the key phrases, sensing he'd grasped a thread explaining the "International Brigade's" presence in this odd world.
[Current Information Collection: 15%]
As the "golden finger" advanced, Morin's grasp of this world sharpened.
This realm, mirroring his past life's early 20th century, teetered on a pivotal historical juncture.
Unlike his knowledge, magic—or magitech—existed here.
The "general's guards" who rescued them had blocked close-range bullets via enchantments on their armor and shields.
The Saxon Empire wasn't a traditional magitech powerhouse; it excelled in mechanics and conventional heavy industry.
From "Intelligence," the true magitech leaders were the Sacred Britannia Empire—with its global colonies—and the Gallic Republic, its colonial rival.
Alternate-world "British-French century-long feud."
Magitech here relied on "magic crystal mines"—ancient meteorites scattered unevenly.
Thus, Britannia and Gaul leveraged worldwide mining to rise as superpowers.
Worse for Saxony: Europa's crystals mostly lay in Britannia and Gaul territories, with Saxony holding scant reserves.
This gave the alternate "German Empire" a natural magitech disadvantage.
Fortunately, the meme "German tech is the world's best" held true here.
Saxons carved a thorny path in conventional tech.
Unlike Morin's familiar oil route, this world's "diesel" derived not from subterranean petroleum, but from a unique mineral: Hui Crystal Mine.
Though unclear how Saxons converted ore to fuel, Morin knew Hui Crystals equated to oil.
Fate favored Saxony: vast deposits lay within its borders and the annexed Lorraine and Alsace from the Gallic Republic.
This propelled Saxony's tech dominance.
Though conflicts simmered between the tech paths, no large-scale wars erupted.
Until the year Morin transmigrated—a "slight" change occurred.
"Lieutenant Morin, we've arrived!"
"Huh?"
Lost in thought at a critical juncture, Schmidt interrupted him.
Regaining focus, Morin looked up to see a vast expanse of tents in the clearing ahead.
This was the temporary camp of the 33rd Infantry Regiment, 1st Battalion.