Athabasca Basin.
Six large military airports have stopped taking off and landing in the empire's mainland Northwest war zone, three mining railways have been interrupted, two Sakuradite storage and transportation centers are organizing emergency transfers, and the size of the BETA Landing Unit ground group deployed to the periphery is still growing.
However, the red areas in the forward battle zone that are shrinking inward are much smaller than Schneizel originally expected, and there are even several places that have significantly shrunk back in the past two hours.
"Your Highness! Fourth Armored Group has advanced twelve kilometers to the west, Ninth Royal Mobile Corps has recaptured two highlands, and the Northern Guards have blocked three enemy roads leading to the southern industrial corridor."
Kanon placed the latest report in front of him and paused for a moment.
"Your Highness, according to the available data, the empire has invested in the mainland Mobile Reserve Force in three main directions in less than ten hours. The actual casualties and equipment losses far exceed any colonial war in the past, but the imperial warriors on the front line are still demanding to continue the attack."
Schneizel carefully read the Artillery consumption table.
"Kanon, they are telling us that BETA has not yet fully established ground defense depth, and this is the last period of time suitable for large-scale counterattacks."
"But the Imperial Military Department has reported quite serious losses."
"I saw it, but if the empire stops counterattack now and Landing Unit continues to expand, how much will it cost us to re-enter this area twelve hours later?"
Kanon hesitated.
"Then do we need to ask His Majesty again to preside over the war meeting in person?"
Schneizel glanced at the Royal Family line. Charles issued four orders within ten hours, three of which were related to the comprehensive resistance to BETA. The last one required Knights of the Round to cooperate with the Home Defense Command.
As for what exactly the emperor himself is dealing with now, the royal court has offered no valuable explanation.
"Since the emperor has made our strategic goals clear." Schneizel did not continue to ask, "Then we can implement it. There are still two billion families in the empire who need to live a normal life. We cannot let them stop working while waiting for the emperor's next personal order."
He said this and pressed the conference line directly.
"Immediately notify the military affairs, colonial administration, Royal Industrial Consortium Committee, finance and transportation departments, and the sixth Joint Conference will be convened in half an hour. Also, please bring in Brother Odysseus. I need to talk to him."
Kanon looked at the schedule that was already full for the next eighteen hours, and couldn't help but remind him in a low voice, "Your Highness, the last time you slept was two days ago."
"Really? I remember I took an hour's rest yesterday."
"Your Highness! That's because the railway minister fainted and the meeting was suspended for fifty-seven minutes."
Schneizel thought about it and actually laughed.
"It seems that the railway minister knows how to rest better than I do."
"Your Highness, I don't think this is funny."
"I think so too. Let the doctor review Chang'an of the Railway Ministry. If he can still work, the transportation coordination meeting in the afternoon cannot be without him."
At this moment, Odysseus rushed over, holding a grant application for Royal Relief Fund in his hand.
The first prince originally thought that his younger brother was going to ask him to host a new wartime prayer ceremony, or to meet with nobles from various places on behalf of the emperor, and after hearing about the situation on the front line.
"Schneizel, are you going to let me go to Asabasca?"
"To be precise, the second reception center has been established in the northern theater of the empire. The emperor can receive the home defense forces and Evacuated Residents there. There is no need to go to the front line. I don't think the Royal Propaganda Office has the ability to explain that the heir to the throne of the empire was hit by Laser-Class at the eleventh hour of the battle."
Odysseus looked at his younger brother with a little embarrassment on his face.
"That's not what I meant. I know I'm not good at commanding the army, but if I just stand there and let the soldiers salute me and then say a few words to Camera... will those who have lost their family members really find it useful?"
Schneizel raised his eyes slightly.
"Then what does the emperor plan to do?"
"I don't know." Odysseus admitted quite frankly, "I don't have the talent like you. But if the medical station lacks medicine, the relief department can immediately allocate funds; if those residents cannot leave due to railway requisition, I can ask the Royal Family Transportation Department to coordinate. Also, the families of those fallen soldiers... I should at least listen to what they want."
Kanon was originally going to remind the first prince not to interfere with the battlefield command, but he stopped talking after hearing this.
Schneizel was silent for a moment, and finally showed a real relaxed smile.
"That's very good, Brother Emperor. Please bring along the Royal Household Director and three officials who can directly sign the relief budget. One more thing, I hope you will not let the military department arrange an overly grand welcome ceremony in advance."
Odysseus nodded and stopped again before leaving.
"Brother, you should also sleep for a while. I know you are very capable, but we can't let you fall when our father is away."
"I'll consider it."
After the first prince left, Kanon looked at the direction he left, thoughtfully.
"Your Highness, Odysseus Prince sometimes knows better than we expected what he is suitable for."
"He has always been like this, but he is not suitable to sit here and decide the direction of war for millions of people."
Schneizel reconnected local military lines.
"Okay, let's see how far the Empire's knights have advanced the war."
Athabasca Basin southwest edge, Ninth Royal Mobile Corps.
The war here is unfolding in a way that Britannia people are familiar with in the past, but completely unfamiliar to them.
The history of the Imperial Army can be traced back to the old Britannia military tradition. Those long-standing Guards and Cavalry regiments often have their own honorary names, battle flags, battle records, and regimental histories that last for hundreds of years. The Royal Military Academy has always liked this system, because a soldier may not be familiar with the boundaries of the entire Empire, but he will never easily forget which army he belongs to.
Coldstream Guards, Black Watch, Royal Scots Dragoon Guards, these troops retaining the traditional honorary names, together with the ordinary Infantry regiments, colonial rifle regiments and new mobilization regiments organized in numbers, constitute the empire's huge army.
Of course, this does not mean that all those with names are aristocrats and those with numbers are all civilians. The old troops also retain Official Unit Designation, and there are also elites with outstanding military exploits in the colonial troops. It is just that the aristocratic tradition of the empire always likes to associate honor, blood and military flags, as if an army is naturally qualified to stand at the forefront of the battlefield as long as it has an ancient enough name.
Now, BETA doesn't care about any of this.
A squadron of Royal Dragoons that claimed to have a regiment history of three hundred years had just crossed the ridge when they ran into twelve high-speed charging Assault-class.
The first Gloucester tried to go around from the side, but was knocked away by the sudden turn of Assault-class. The Cockpit alarm flashed continuously. Before Driver had time to adjust its attitude, the subsequent Assault-class pushed it against the rock wall.
"Third Squadron! Don't engage the enemy head-on! Hit the side, hit them--"
The channel was suddenly interrupted, and the Sutherland behind immediately fired Flying Swallow Claws. The two aircraft simultaneously grabbed the flanks of the front Assault-class, trying to force it to change direction. The heavy Tank fired from a distance, and the shells hit the carapace, and the flying debris almost obscured the entire screen.
"Left! There are two more!"
"I saw it! Don't rush me!"
The young knight had just asked Sutherland to turn around when he found that his body was being grabbed by the hind legs of three Tank-class. Cockpit had already turned on the close range threat alarm. He wanted to use the machine cannon, but found that the muzzle could no longer be aimed at his feet.
"Unlock the insurance, start the self-destruction program, and Cockpit ejects!"
"But Captain, my machine is still--"
"I order you to eject!"
Young Driver finally pressed the button, and the armored cabin popped out from the back. Then, Sutherland's energy core and remaining ammunition completed emergency destruction according to the preset procedure, and the explosion opened up the nearby Tank-class.
Before the rescue capsule landed, a beam of light swept across from a distance.
The wreckage of the aircraft disappeared in the flames, and the deceleration device on the outside of Cockpit was also burned out. The young knight did not even have time to call for help again, and fell into the valley together with the broken rescue capsule.
The last communication he sent was only half a sentence.
"For Britannia--"
This scene did not stop the imperial army from advancing. The troops behind them bypassed the burning wreckage and continued to move towards the planned attack line.
In the Ninth Royal Mobile Corps headquarters, Monica Kulusevsky was checking the recovery records of the forward aircraft. As the twelfth Knights of the Round, she knew very well why these imperial knights were unwilling to retreat easily.
In the past, they dealt with people. The rebels would hesitate, retreat, and be intimidated by the reputation of the Knights. Sometimes as long as a Royal Family special machine appeared on the battlefield, the enemy commander would already start thinking about how to save his life.
"The Third Armored Knights Request another invasion."
The officer next to him sounded tense.
"Tell me! How many units do they have left?"
"Report! The Knights have nineteen units that can continue to operate, and additional units are on the railway."
"Tell them that I do not accept the plan of nineteen mechas charging into a cluster of thousands of BETAs. If they want to die for the empire, they must at least complete a mission that allows others to continue fighting."
She looked at another screen, where Luciano Bradley, who was in charge of the frontal assault, had already begun urging the troops.
The tenth Knights of the Round, Percival, is moving at high speed along the edge of a rock formation. The drill claws on his right arm are constantly unfolding. The two guard aircraft have just been destroyed by Assault-class, but he is still laughing.
"These guys are really tough! However, as long as we find those damn Laser-Class, wouldn't the rest be targets?"
"Sir Bradley." Monica connected to the communication, "You have lost the guard on your right side, please do not go deeper."
"I know! I'm not blind!"
"Then please explain why you are still accelerating?"
"Because there is a target ahead of me that I want to attack!"
Luciano obviously didn't like anyone stopping him from continuing to fight, but this time, Bismarck cut directly into the line.
"Sir Bradley, return to the position. What His Majesty the Emperor wants is to defend the homeland, not to let Knights of the Round look for achievements worth showing off among the enemy."
The communication was silent for a moment.
"Understood, Your Excellency First Knight."