The story blossoms on two branches, let's look at each in turn.
The Parliament Building of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, this magnificent neo-Greek structure, was currently immersed in fanatical agitation.
The massive columnar hall was filled with smoke.
Dozens of Czech deputies and officers were acting as if they were attending a grand victory banquet.
"We succeeded! May God bless Bohemia!"
"The Habsburg cage is finally broken!"
They hugged each other and shouted loudly, the sound of leather boots stomping chaotically on the marble floor as if nailing shut the coffin of the Habsburg Dynasty.
Masaryk paced back and forth in front of the massive conference table, his hands behind his back.
Although he tried hard to maintain the composure of a coup initiator, his slightly trembling hands and the unnatural flush on his face betrayed his inner excitement.
It's done... it's really done.
That massive empire that had pressed down on Bohemia's head for centuries actually had its heart pierced by them in just one short hour.
"Gentlemen! Good news!"
The head of the armed forces for this coup—the adjutant of the 35th Bohemian Infantry Regiment—ran in sweating profusely.
As for the commander of this regiment?
That arrogant Austrian officer had been tied up last night and locked up with the other Austrian officers.
At this moment, the adjutant of the 35th Infantry Regiment had even knocked his military cap askew because he ran too fast.
But he didn't care to fix it, excitedly waving the logbook in his hand.
"The battle reports from everywhere have been compiled! Hofburg Palace, the Army General Staff, the General Telegraph Office, the Arsenal..."
"Except for the West Railway Station, where there's no definitive news yet, all the key nodes are in our hands!"
"That old man Franz has been placed under house arrest in his bedchambers; not even a fly can get in! As for Archduke Karl..."
The regimental adjutant swallowed hard, a look beyond words appearing on his face: "He compromised. He's on his way here right now."
A burst of cheers instantly erupted in the hall.
A few radical young deputies even jumped onto the tables, waving their fists and shouting, "Long live Bohemia!"
Of course, upon hearing this news, some participants in the coup were still somewhat angry.
"That spineless coward is only coming now?" A heavily bearded deputy spat indignantly. "If he heard we failed, he probably would have disguised himself and fled long ago, right?"
"Exactly! Showing up at a time like this, he's obviously here to pick the peaches [reap the rewards]!"
"Do we really need this kind of person to take charge? If you ask me, we might as well just declare a republic!"
Arguments rose and fell in the hall, the voices questioning Archduke Karl growing louder and louder.
Masaryk frowned and raised his hand to signal everyone to be quiet.
Although he was also disappointed by the Crown Prince's indecisiveness, he was a pragmatic politician.
He knew very well that they still needed a Habsburg skin to stabilize the situation, at least to prevent those still sitting on the fence from immediately picking up their guns to fight to the death.
Masaryk turned his gaze back to the reporting regimental adjutant. His sharp intuition spotted a loophole in that long list.
"Wait... you just said there's no definitive news from the West Railway Station yet?"
"Uh... yes, sir."
The adjutant of the 35th Infantry Regiment scratched his head and explained somewhat awkwardly: "Captain Simon, who's in charge there, hasn't sent anyone back to report. But just now, a messenger returning from the north of the city said there was only a burst of gunfire there, and then it stopped."
"Since the gunfire stopped, it should be secured," a deputy nearby interjected carelessly.
"That's what I think too..."
An awkward yet knowing smile appeared on the regimental adjutant's face.
"Considering there's no regular garrison in the railway station, and you know what kind of person Captain Simon is... in the 35th Regiment he's famous for... that."
He rubbed his fingers together, making a money-counting gesture.
"He probably found some 'oil and water' [bribes/loot] in the station, or had a bit of a conflict with the station management over dividing the spoils... After all, at that hour, it's highly likely a smuggler train pulled in."
The surrounding deputies heard this and also showed expressions of understanding, some even chuckling out loud.
"This Simon, truly mud that can't support a wall [useless], still thinking about making a quick buck at a time like this."
"Forget it, as long as he controls the station, it's fine if he skims a little."
But Masaryk didn't laugh. As the mastermind behind this coup, his intuition as an old politician told him things weren't that simple.
"No."
Masaryk shook his head, his tone serious.
"This is an extraordinary time; no link can be allowed to drop the ball. The West Railway Station guards the railway artery to the West. If something goes wrong there, what if troops loyal to the royal family come from the West..."
"You worry too much, sir... but I'll still send someone to confirm the situation immediately."
This regimental adjutant reassured everyone, telling them to just continue following the plan.
In short, everything is under control.
Listening to the regimental adjutant's words, Masaryk remained half-believing and half-doubting.
But he also knew that the current situation could be said to be excellent. His group couldn't possibly abandon the subsequent actions just because one railway station hadn't sent back news yet.
Masaryk nodded to the regimental adjutant, asking him to confirm the situation as soon as possible to ensure everything was foolproof.
They would also continue pushing the plan forward here at the Parliament Building.
After the adjutant of the 35th Infantry Regiment left, Masaryk also told the other deputies participating in the coup around him that everything was proceeding according to plan.
They would broadcast a telegram to the whole nation at exactly 8:30 AM—which was in three hours.
Announcing to the outside world that the Habsburg Dynasty had been overthrown, and a "Provisional National Government" would be established next, while inviting other political parties to come to Vienna to "join in this grand event."
On the other side, not long after the regimental adjutant left the noisy hall, he bumped right into a hurried communications staff officer.
"What's going on? Panicking like this!"
"Sir, there's a problem..."
The communications staff officer looked somewhat nervous, leaning in close to the regimental adjutant and whispering: "The regimental communications soldiers just detected an anomaly. Within the Vienna urban area, an unknown, specific radio frequency is frequently transmitting signals."
"An unknown radio station?" The regimental adjutant was stunned. "Didn't they say the stations at the telegraph office and the barracks were all controlled?"
"Yes, they are all controlled... but this is obviously a new signal source."
The communications staff officer wiped the sweat from his forehead and continued: "And the other party is not using plain text, but encrypting the transmissions. The Britannian 'advisors' say they can't crack it in the short term."
The regimental adjutant's expression finally became serious.
At this critical juncture, a mysterious radio station transmitting encrypted messages was obviously somewhat deadly.
"Should we report to Mr. Masaryk?" the communications staff officer asked.
The regimental adjutant hesitated for a moment, looking back at the cheerful parliament hall.
Morale is high right now; if I pour cold water on it and say there's a mysterious radio station that might be calling for reinforcements, who knows how panicked those deputies will get.
"No need."
The regimental adjutant gritted his teeth and made a decision.
"This is a crucial moment; we can't let these baseless things shake military morale... Have the communications unit continue trying to crack it, or find the approximate location."
"Also..." He thought of the situation at the West Station. "Have the troops at various checkpoints heighten their vigilance to prevent a Royalist counterattack, and arrange for some men to go to the West Station to take a look. Maybe something really did go wrong over there."
About ten minutes later.
A squad of soldiers wearing Austro-Hungarian uniforms, carrying old-style Mannlicher rifles on their backs, rode bicycles wobbly toward the West Railway Station.
This was the first batch of scouts sent by the 35th Bohemian Infantry Regiment, a squad's worth of troops.
Most of these soldiers were "Ersatz Reserve" who had returned to the army after the war broke out—yes, those "civilians" whose annual military training didn't exceed eight weeks.
They might lack technical and tactical skills due to limited training time...
But when it came to using their uniforms to fleece the common people, they picked it up extremely fast and were absolutely ruthless.
In the eyes of these soldiers, this was just an easy errand, and they could incidentally check the train station to see if there was any cheap advantage to take.
"Hey, I heard Captain Simon made a fortune over there."
The squad leader in front boasted to the soldiers behind him while pedaling: "Let's be smart later, maybe we can also score a couple of bottles of good smuggled wine."
As they spoke, the massive silhouette of the Vienna Westbahnhof's station building appeared in the morning mist.
Strangely, it was excessively quiet here. The shops on both sides of the street were tightly shut, and not even the shadow of friendly forces could be seen nearby.
The massive train station looked like a monster with its mouth wide open, lying quietly in the dawn, waiting for prey to come to the door.
Normally, if Captain Simon controlled the station, there should be soldiers standing guard at the door at this time, or at least they should be able to hear the noisy arguing of those guys fighting over loot inside.
"Why isn't there even a sentry?" The squad leader began to mutter in his heart.
He stopped his bicycle at the main gate and peeked inside. It was pitch black inside, with only a few dim yellow oil lamps flickering.
"Everyone be careful." The squad leader took the rifle off his back. "Let's go in and take a look."
The ten soldiers parked their bicycles by the curb next to the station gate, holding their guns, and walked timidly into the waiting hall.
Their footsteps echoed in the hall, sounding exceptionally empty.
"Captain Simon? Captain Simon?" the squad leader called out tentatively a couple of times.
No one answered.
Only the sound of the wind coming from nowhere, blowing the chandelier overhead slightly.
The figures of this group of soldiers gradually disappeared into the shadows leading to the platforms, like a drop of water merging into the sea, without even a ripple.
Time ticked by, and the sun had completely risen.
The golden sunlight spilled on the rooftops of Vienna, but couldn't illuminate the gloom in some people's hearts.
The temporary regimental headquarters of the 35th Bohemian Infantry Regiment was set up in a police station not far from the Parliament Building.
At this moment, the adjutant of the 35th Regiment, acting as the commander of the coup's armed forces, had begun to slap the table anxiously.
"Damn it! Did that squad of men fall into the sewer?!"
Captain Simon lost contact, and the squad sent to scout also lost contact.
This was absolutely not something "uneven division of spoils" could explain.
"Sir, could it be... an ambush by the Imperial Guard over there?" a staff officer nearby asked cautiously.
"Impossible! The main forces of the Imperial Guard are all at Schönbrunn Palace and Hofburg Palace. Where would they get spare troops to guard a broken-down train station?!"
The lieutenant colonel irritably tugged at his collar and retorted.
But he also knew in his heart that something had definitely happened.
"Send more men!" The lieutenant colonel gritted his teeth, a flash of ruthlessness in his eyes. "Send a platoon over this time! If anyone inside resists, whether it's Simon or whoever, just shoot!"
"Tell the platoon leader leading the team, if he feels something is wrong, retreat and report immediately. Don't throw lives away like idiots!"
"Have them take heavy machine guns!"
Twenty minutes later.
Another Czech unit appeared on the plaza avenue in front of Vienna Westbahnhof.
This time, they were noticeably much more cautious. They didn't charge directly into the station but kept a vigilant watch on the plaza avenue.
The platoon leader leading the team held up binoculars, observing the dead-silent station building ahead.
"Sir, look over there." A sharp-eyed soldier pointed to the station's main gate.
The platoon leader followed the direction and saw over a dozen bicycles leaning neatly against the curb, some even lying on the ground with no one to pick them up.
That was the equipment of the previous scout team.
"Where are the people?" The platoon leader felt a chill run down his spine.
The station hall was pitch black, like a giant maw waiting to devour people.
"Spread out the formation! Prepare to search and advance!"
The platoon leader gave the order, but he himself shrank behind a fire hydrant, not daring to poke his head out.
"Machine gun team, set up the heavy machine gun behind that fountain!"
However, just as these poorly trained, slow-moving soldiers spread out on the street and before they could even approach the station gates—
"Screech—!"
A piercing, scalp-tingling whistle suddenly came from the direction of the platforms behind the station, instantly ripping apart the tranquility of the street.
That was the sound of death descending.
The platoon leader subconsciously looked up, only to see a dark speck drawing a parabola in the air, crashing down right above their heads.
He tried to shout something, but it was all too late.
"BOOM——!!!"
The ground trembled violently.
An orange fireball soared into the sky in the middle of the street, followed by an ear-shattering explosion.
A 170mm heavy mortar, a "demolition tool" originally designed to destroy sturdy field fortifications, exploding on an unshielded street—its power was simply devastating.
Although the first ranging shot was slightly off-target and didn't land directly in the middle of the crowd.
But the kill radius of a 175mm heavy mortar shell made up for this. (The official equipment name is 170mm, but the actual caliber is 175mm, very mysterious).
Those soldiers close to the explosion center didn't even have time to scream before they disappeared directly into the smoke kicked up by the blast.
The violent shockwave mixed with countless shrapnel and rubble, like a giant broom, swept across half the street instantly.
Over a dozen soldiers nearby were flipped away like ragdolls, crashing heavily into the walls on both sides.
"My leg! My leg!"
"Help! Mother!"
Before the smoke even cleared, mournful screams had already resounded through the sky.
Immediately after, the second whistle followed closely.
"BOOM!!"
The fierce explosion once again threw severed limbs and broken bricks high into the air. The street instantly turned into a slaughterhouse.
Immediately following, countless muzzles suddenly appeared from the second-floor windows and the roof of the station building.
"Da-da-da-da-da!"
The MP14 submachine guns and MG14 light machine guns unique to the instruction unit wove a dense net of fire, pinning the surviving Czech soldiers attempting to flee firmly to the ground.
The violent explosions in the western district of Vienna were like resounding slaps, striking hard across the face of this slumbering city.
Southwest of Vienna, the Schöneberg barracks near Schönbrunn Palace.
This was an important stronghold controlled by the coup forces. It garrisoned nearly a battalion's worth of troops and also held a large number of captured Imperial Guard soldiers.
The coup commander in charge here was standing on the drill ground, addressing a group of disarmed Imperial Guard prisoners, trying to persuade them to surrender.
The sudden massive explosion startled him so much he dropped his cigarette.
"Where's the artillery fire? Where's the artillery fire?!"
He roared on the dusty drill ground, his voice cracking.
This commotion was too big.
That feeling of even the ground trembling could absolutely not be produced by ordinary field guns.
"Reporting, sir! It seems to be... from the direction of the West Station!" A soldier pointed at the black smoke rising in the distance.
"The West Station?"
This commander was stunned, his eyes wide round: "How is that possible? Shouldn't that side have been controlled long ago? And... who the f*ck would hide heavy artillery of this caliber in a train station?!"
"Could it be Royalist reinforcements have arrived?"
But before he could figure it out, a burst of gunfire suddenly rang out from the perimeter of the barracks.
Immediately after, a sentry stumbled in, his face full of terror.
"Sir! Enemies! There are enemies approaching outside, the boys have already opened fire!"
"What are you panicking for! How many?" The commander drew his pistol to embolden himself.
"I don't know... but... but they have Armored Knights!" The sentry gestured incoherently, "And... and not the Britannian kind!"
"What?!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Closer explosions suddenly went off at the barracks gates.
This time, the explosion's shockwave directly swept up fragments of the gate and severed human limbs, howling into the barracks square.
The commander only felt a wave of heat hit his face. He was flipped to the ground, getting a mouthful of dirt.
"Everyone prepare for combat! Push them back for me!"
He scrambled up wretchedly, spat out the sand in his mouth, and roared hoarsely: "Push those damn field guns up! And what about the Britannians? Where are their Armored Knights?!"
However, the only answer he got was his adjutant's despairing shout: "Sir... after helping us take the barracks, they withdrew half an hour ago!"
"Those treacherous robbers!" The commander was so angry he almost spat blood.
But cursing their mothers was useless now.
Right in the pervasive smoke at the barracks gates, two massive steel figures slowly emerged.
Those were "Siegfried Mark 1" Armored Knights painted in field gray.
The continuous explosions in the western part of the city quickly reached other areas controlled by the coup forces.
The Army General Staff building, the military brain of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and also a key area controlled by the coup forces.
On the front steps of the building, a dozen Czech soldiers holding rifles were warily watching the street, while simultaneously dispersing civilians who woke up early hearing the noise and came out to scout for news.
When the sounds of explosions came from the west, these Czech soldiers guarding the steps of the building were all somewhat dazed.
"What's going on? Didn't they say we already won?"
"Listening to this sound, it seems like they're fighting fiercely..."
Just as they were craning their necks to look west, at a loss for what to do, from behind that heavy main door, an extremely dense burst of gunfire suddenly erupted.
"Da-da-da! Da-da-da!"
The gunfire from this unique fully automatic weapon echoed in the empty hall, sounding exceptionally harsh.
"Inside! The gunfire is inside!" A master sergeant reacted, turning around in horror, "Someone sneaked in!"
"Quick! Go back and support!"
These dozen Czech soldiers frantically turned their muzzles, trying to rush back inside the building.
However, just as they reached the doorway, a few dark objects flew out from inside, landing at their feet, hissing white smoke.
Those were Saxon standard-issue M1915 stick grenades.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A series of explosions detonated among the crowd, shrapnel flying everywhere.
Immediately after, a group of combat engineers wearing cuirasses, steel helmets, and holding submachine guns charged out from the smoke like ghosts.
Their movements were sharp, their coordination tacit. The MP14 submachine guns in their hands spewed tongues of fire, sweeping down rows of the Czech soldiers who had been left dizzy by the explosions.
Although their name included "engineers," in reality, these soldiers equipped with enchanted cuirasses were instead even more swift and fierce in an assault.
Just a few minutes ago, Morin utilized [Invisibility] to directly enter the General Staff building—whose "anti-magic" and "detect magic" devices had failed due to the morning's surprise attack—and circled to the back door of the building.
After taking down two sentries, he unlocked the door, and the combat engineers already waiting at the back door swaggered in just like that, dealing a fatal blow to the first-floor defenders from behind...
At this moment, the interior of the Army General Staff building was filled with a strong smell of gunpowder and blood.
The originally magnificent corridors were now littered with the corpses of coup soldiers.
The walls were densely packed with bullet holes, expensive oil paintings were shot to shreds, and the exquisite carpets had soaked up blood, turning dark red.
The MP14 submachine gun was still too well-rounded in close-quarters indoor combat...
At least against those coup soldiers still holding old-style Mannlicher rifles, racking the bolt once to fire one shot, facing the firepower density of the instruction unit where everyone held a "sprinkler," it was simply a dimensional strike.
"1st Squad control the stairwell! 2nd Squad clear the second-floor corridor! 3rd Squad keep following me!"
Morin, holding his "exclusive weapon," used [Mage Hand] to reload while kicking aside a corpse blocking the way, simultaneously issuing orders to the combat engineers behind him.
"Attention! Observe the situation in the rooms clearly before using hand grenades, to avoid friendly fire on imprisoned officers!"
"Yes! Commander!"
Manstein and Paulus behind him each took a squad of assault troops, skillfully spreading out to the sides, and began clearing remaining enemies room by room—as for Kleist, he remained guarding the train station.
These future famous generals, under Morin's current tutelage, had already fully acquired the qualities of elite frontline commanders.
They were calm, decisive, and every tactical movement met a standard refined through a thousand trials.
Morin, taking the ten most elite combat engineers, headed straight for the Chief of the General Staff's office on the third floor.
The sporadic resistance encountered along the way was crushed almost instantly.
A few Czech soldiers attempting to stubbornly resist relying on desks were focused down simultaneously by several submachine guns and riddled with bullets before they could even pull their triggers.
In less than ten minutes from start to finish, the gunfire in the Army General Staff building grew sparse.
Besides corpses and shell casings all over the floor, all that remained were prisoners kneeling on the ground, hands behind their heads, shivering.
And Morin had also arrived before the Chief of the General Staff's office. Two downed coup soldiers still lay by his feet.
Wiping the blood that had splattered on his face with his sleeve, Morin signaled to a combat engineer beside him with his eyes.
The latter, following tactical procedure, turned his back to the door and kicked it open. Morin then led the combat engineers from both sides of the door and surged in immediately.
Soon, he saw a group of Austro-Hungarian Army officers with their hands and feet tied, and the oldest man with the highest rank among them.
Taking a deep breath, Morin walked up with a full enthusiasm perfectly displaying the temperament of a Saxon soldier.
Then, standing solemnly at attention before Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, he spoke a sentence that sounded like heavenly music to the latter.
"Field Marshal, in the name of the Austro-Hungarian Empire's eternal ally, you are free."