Morin's efforts

Only after a long while did the air in Command Headquarters begin to move again.

Major Thomas and Captain Hauser exchanged a glance, each seeing the same sentiment in the other's reaction—they had struck gold.

The young second lieutenant before them wasn't just quick on his feet and adaptable. His professional skills were almost absurdly strong, surpassing even those of some veterans with years of service.

Even setting aside his outstanding performance in the morning's battle, the intelligence and supporting evidence he had brought back from deep behind enemy lines had already far exceeded their expectations in value.

And that morning's battle could hardly be set aside anyway...

By now, Major Thomas's simple admiration for Morin had turned into an undisguised recognition of his worth.

As for Captain Hauser beside him, his expression was rather like that of a man gazing at a delectable beauty... figuratively speaking, of course.

"Ahem."

Major Thomas cleared his throat, interrupting Hauser's burning stare, and turned to Morin.

"Second Lieutenant Morin, mark your reconnaissance findings on the map."

"Yes, sir."

Without a moment's hesitation, Morin took the pencil a staff NCO handed him.

Instead of immediately working on the large map in Command Headquarters, he first reached into the inner pocket of his uniform and took out a hardbound notebook and a folded map.

These were his own "backups."

Morin wasn't one to put all his eggs in one basket, so he hadn't placed complete faith in his "cheat" never malfunctioning.

Following the Saxon Army's map-marking conventions, he had already copied the key information from the System Map during his reconnaissance.

This also neatly explained how he could remember so much complicated intelligence, sparing him unnecessary suspicion.

After all, if he could remember everything at a glance and reproduce vast swathes of enemy deployments out of thin air... Major Thomas and the others might wonder whether he had made it all up.

Morin spread out his map and notes, then began marking the larger operational map in Command Headquarters with his pencil.

His map-marking skills were solid, both before and after his transmigration.

Red symbols representing enemy firing positions and troop concentrations quickly took shape beneath his pencil.

As the red markings multiplied, Major Thomas and the others grew increasingly grim.

Especially when Morin marked the Magic Crystal Cannon Positions on the high ground, everyone fell silent.

The senior officers all knew that the Britannians' Magic Crystal Cannons had a range of roughly 4,500 meters.

Deployed at the locations Morin had marked, they covered most of the area where the attack would unfold, and their firepower was devastating against massed infantry...

By the time Morin finished marking everything, all the officers in Battalion Headquarters had gathered around the map, remaining silent for a long time.

The defenses established in Seville by the Aragonese Army and the Britannian Expeditionary Force were far tighter and more troublesome than they had anticipated.

Major Thomas stared at the map, his brow deeply furrowed. After a while, he finally raised his head and looked at Morin.

Morin knew it was his turn to speak.

"Sir, I believe we shouldn't rush into an attack."

His voice wasn't loud, but it rang especially clearly through the quiet Command Headquarters.

"The enemy's posture is clear. They've pulled back their defensive lines to rely on the city and those Magic Crystal Cannons. They want us to charge straight into them."

Morin traced his finger across the densely marked red area on the map.

"If we launch a reckless attack now, even if we ultimately take Seville, our casualties and those of our allies will be heavy! Once the enemy mounts an effective counterattack, there's no telling whether we'll be able to hold it."

His argument was clear and logically sound.

Any rational commander looking at the map before them would have to give that possibility serious thought.

Major Thomas's expression showed that he had already been swayed.

Morin pressed his advantage, adding, "Sir, after this morning's battle, I'm sure you don't want the troops to repeat the same mistake!"

That final remark proved exceptionally effective in driving the point home.

Of course, Morin hadn't spent all that breath solely for the sake of some grand tactical consideration.

He had selfish motives of his own.

Having seen Seville's defenses firsthand, he knew very well that the coming assault would be a meat grinder.

But he certainly wasn't prepared to give up his life for the glory of the Saxon Empire.

That would be insane. Who would lay down their life for a country they'd arrived in less than twenty-four hours ago...?

If the battle could be delayed a day, then he would delay it a day. If it could be avoided entirely, so much the better.

What he was doing now was everything in his power to postpone an offensive almost certain to leave mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

"You're right..."

After a long silence, Major Thomas finally spoke, letting out a heavy sigh.

Morin had convinced him, but a trace of helplessness appeared on his face.

"But Second Lieutenant Morin, I'm only a battalion commander. Whether we attack isn't my decision."

He paced back and forth through Command Headquarters a few times before finally making up his mind.

"Come with me. We're going to Regimental Headquarters, then Brigade Headquarters!"

Major Thomas tapped his fist lightly against the map.

"Whether we can persuade the regimental and brigade commanders is another matter. But at the very least, they need to know exactly what the situation in Seville is!"

He looked at Morin with unprecedented gravity in his eyes.

"Get ready. We're leaving immediately!"

Major Thomas soon selected several soldiers with excellent riding skills as escorts. Taking Morin with him, he led the party at a gallop toward Brigade Headquarters in the rear.

Hooves flew, and dust billowed.

By the time Morin and Major Thomas reached the 33rd Infantry Regiment's Regimental Headquarters, dusk had fallen.

They wasted no time. Once they found the regimental commander, Major Thomas immediately gave him a concise account of the situation's severity.

After hearing the report and examining the physical evidence Morin had brought back, the commander of the 33rd Infantry Regiment looked equally grim.

He made an immediate decision and personally took the two men to the 16th Infantry Brigade's Brigade Headquarters in the heart of the camp.

The atmosphere inside the brigade's command tent was solemn.

Standing before another enormous operational map, Morin noticed that this brigade-level map was far more detailed than the one at Battalion Headquarters.

Scattered red enemy symbols had already been marked around Seville's outskirts. Clearly, theirs had been far from the only squad sent out on forward reconnaissance.

Before the brigade commander, the brigade staff, and several liaison officers from the National Army and the International Brigades, Morin once again demonstrated his excellent map-marking skills, plotting each piece of intelligence he had gathered.

Then he gave a detailed account of everything he had seen and heard in Seville, from the enemy's defensive deployments to the state of discipline among their soldiers.

Finally, he repeated his recommendation, hoping Command Headquarters would consider the matter carefully and postpone the attack.