Business concluded, Morin stayed to chat a bit longer with the personnel lieutenant colonel.
The lieutenant colonel, a talkative man stuck in the rear echelons, eagerly asked about the frontline. After a while, the two grew reasonably acquainted. To the lieutenant colonel, a rising military star who had caught the Crown Prince's eye was well worth befriending. Furthermore, Morin's status was no secret in Dresden. Many high-ranking officials and nobles knew he shared a sibling-like bond with the "Radiant Crystal Queen."
For Morin, rubbing shoulders with War Ministry officers couldn't hurt, especially one handling personnel appointments.
The lieutenant colonel only reluctantly ended the conversation when Morin's mouth ran dry. Morin didn't linger at the War Ministry. He hopped into a carriage and headed straight back to the manor.
The moment he walked through the door, Cecilia hurried over to greet him. She looked as though she had been waiting there all along.
"How did it go, Fritz? Did something happen for the War Ministry to summon you so suddenly?" Her grayish-blue eyes filled with concern as she looked him up and down.
"Nothing bad. Just got a new medal, and a new assignment is coming."
Morin omitted the classified details and told Cecilia about the War Minister personally awarding his medal and his orders to form a new unit.
Cecilia froze for a moment before genuine joy blossomed on her face. She was truly happy for Morin. The pride and delight nearly spilled from her eyes.
However, her smile faded when Morin mentioned he had to attend a three-month training program at the War Academy. She furrowed her brow, failing to hide the grumble in her voice.
"So, you've barely been back a few days, and now you're leaving for a military academy for three months?"
Her dismay made Morin feel a pang of guilt. He quickly stepped forward, took her shoulders, and guided her back down onto the plush sofa.
"Sister Cecilia, it's just three months. It'll fly by. It's only March; I'll be back by early June~"
Morin stepped behind her naturally and attentively began massaging her shoulders.
"Once I finish at the academy, I can serve the Empire better, right? That reflects well on you, too."
Feeling the pressure from his fingertips and hearing his coaxing tone, Cecilia's displeasure vanished. She chuckled softly and glanced back at him.
"You acting so attentive... it's exactly like how you used to be."
Despite her words, she couldn't hide the smile in her eyes. Coaxed by Morin, her mood brightened considerably.
"Alright, alright, I know you're amazing." Cecilia enjoyed the massage before shifting the topic. "Since you're heading to the academy, don't worry about setting up that company you mentioned."
Her tone turned serious.
"I'll plan it out while you're away. By the time you get out, the preliminary preparations will be done. No matter how much your patent compensation turns out to be, I'll help you build this company."
Her voice carried an undeniable tone of indulgence that brooked no refusal.
Warmth spread through Morin's chest. Having a wealthy older sister unconditionally support him felt pretty incredible. No wonder so many people in his past life just wanted to marry rich and stop trying.
"Thank you, Sister Cecilia."
"Oh please, no need to be polite with me~"
They discussed the company's vision a bit more. Morin occasionally leaned close to Cecilia's ear to whisper his ideas. This intimate posture lifted Cecilia's mood even further. The maids passing by in the hallway couldn't help but cover their mouths and giggle before scurrying away.
However, the cozy atmosphere didn't last long.
Around three in the afternoon, Head Maid Luna walked over to remind Cecilia. "Madam, have you forgotten about tonight's cocktail party? It's about time to get ready."
"Oh my!" Cecilia slapped her forehead in sudden realization. "Look at me, chatting with you and forgetting all my actual business."
She spoke with a hint of chagrin, then turned to Morin, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Fritz, come to the party with me tonight?"
"Huh?"
Morin felt a headache coming on the moment he heard the words "cocktail party." His mind instantly conjured images of men and women in fine clothes, clutching wine glasses and pacing around a resplendent hall. Finding a chair to sit and eat properly in those places was nearly impossible. It was pure suffering.
"Sister Cecilia, can I just skip it?" Morin pulled a long face, trying to wriggle out of it. "Those events are so boring, and my legs just end up sore from standing. I'd rather stay home and brainstorm for my assault battalion."
Cecilia looked surprised. "You don't even want to go to a party?" She looked him up and down like he was a rare animal. "I remember clearly how you used to pull every trick in the book, shamelessly begging me to drag you along to those noble parties."
"Uh... times change." Morin scratched his head awkwardly. "I'm an Imperial officer now. I need to mind my image and stop focusing on having fun."
He tried to spin a high-sounding excuse, but Cecilia didn't buy a word of it.
"No, you must go."
Her attitude was unusually firm, but Morin saw right through her. She almost certainly wanted to parade him around the party and show him off.
He wanted to stand his ground and refuse, but Cecilia suddenly wrapped her arms around his, acting like a young girl, and shook his arm gently.
"Please, Fritz? Just keep your sister company this once..."
The soft warmth against his arm and the coquettish whisper in his ear instantly obliterated Morin's defenses.
Who could resist that!
"Fine, fine..."
Feeling his cheeks heat up, Morin agreed in a daze.
Seeing Morin surrender instantly, a victorious gleam flashed in Cecilia's eyes. She released his arm, nodded in satisfaction, and turned to Luna.
"Luna, go arrange for Fritz's newly tailored uniform to be sent to his room."
"Yes, Madam."
With that, Cecilia went upstairs to prepare. Before leaving, she winked at Morin and told him to dress up nicely.
Morin stood alone, his cheeks still burning. He shook his head, trying to banish the previous image from his mind, and headed back to his own room.
Not long after, two young maids knocked on his door, carrying an exquisite wardrobe trunk. Opening the trunk revealed a brand-new junior officer's uniform neatly folded inside. It had everything from the tunic and trousers to formal leather shoes for banquets, even white gloves and an officer's saber.
A major quirk of the Saxon army was that officers had to purchase their own uniforms out of pocket. Officers from average families usually bought standard off-the-rack uniforms and had a tailor adjust the fit. Those who were better off mostly opted for bespoke tailoring at specialized shops.
As for someone like Morin, backed by a powerful patron, his custom uniform practically danced wildly on the edge of regulations. The fabric had to be the highest grade permitted, the tailoring impeccably fitted, and the detailing as flashy as possible without technically breaking the rules.
This trend of bending the rules started from the very top. The current Imperial Emperor, Albert II, was the prime example of an officer ignoring dress codes. The fashion of adding breast pockets to the service tunic was pioneered entirely by His Majesty.
Changing into the crisp new uniform, Morin felt his whole demeanor sharpen.
Next, he began pinning on his medals—the part he looked forward to most.
The Iron Cross 2nd Class only required wearing its black and white ribbon, looped through the second buttonhole of the tunic. For his newly acquired Iron Cross 1st Class, the actual medal was pinned directly onto his left breast. Beneath it, he pinned the uniquely designed Serbia Combat Memorial Badge—featuring a cathedral in central Serbia and two crossed rifles with fixed bayonets.
Finally, he attached his epaulettes, which he rarely wore, fastened his duty belt, hung the saber at his waist, and pulled on the crisp white gloves.
Fully geared up, Morin stood before the full-length mirror. Looking at the dashing young officer reflected back—especially the medals adorning his chest—a swell of pride washed over him.
Call it showing off or flaunting, but for an ambitious young soldier like Morin, these were the most direct proof of his valor.
"Elder Jinchi was right. If I do not don this cassock, how will the masses know I have severed my worldly ties and drained the golden sea?"
After squaring away his outfit, Morin didn't rush downstairs. Although he was single from birth in his previous life, he wasn't entirely clueless. He knew just how tedious the preparations were for a noblewoman of Cecilia's standing attending a party. Between picking a gown and jewelry, doing makeup, and styling hair, it would easily take an hour or two.
This gave him the perfect opportunity to brainstorm the future of his "Royal Guard 1st Instruction Assault Battalion."
As a battalion commander, he had to consider far more than he did as a company commander. Many specialized aspects required formal study at the military academy. But the future weaponry of the assault battalion alone required serious thought.
In previous battles, he had deeply felt the pain of insufficient firepower. While spraying bullets at close range with the Artillery Luger P08 was satisfying, it was ultimately just a stopgap. The assault troops spearheading breakthroughs needed heavier, more sustained firepower.
"We definitely need submachine guns..."
This thought immediately popped into Morin's mind. In this world, submachine guns—or rather, individual automatic weapons—were largely ignored.
Morin pictured a few classic early submachine guns in his head, like the MP18 and the Thompson. However, he only grasped their basic principles; their exact internal mechanisms eluded him.
Looks like I'll have to find some professionals for this, Morin plotted.