"The Britannian Major captured at the Liège Fortress..."

Morin took the document and flipped open the first page.

The first thing that caught his eye was the somewhat familiar name "Arthur William Cavendish."

Immediately following was a slightly blurry black-and-white photograph. Although the person in the photo looked somewhat disheveled, Morin indeed had an impression of that arrogant expression carved into the bones of Britannian nobles.

"Of course I remember."

Morin quickly skimmed through some basic information, then closed the document and nodded.

"This Major was my ’benefactor.’ Back then, if we hadn’t intercepted this unlucky guy halfway, stripped him of his clothes and credentials, it really wouldn’t have been that easy for me to infiltrate the core area of the Liège Fortress."

Recalling that operation a few months ago that caused the General Staff to establish a separate medal, Morin still found the part about capturing the Britannian liaison officer somewhat amusing.

At the time, this bro was sitting in an open-top car, guided by a local, preparing to go into the fortress to meet the fortress garrison commander at the time.

Unexpectedly, a squad of Saxon assault troops descended from the sky and took him out directly, car and all.

To save time, Morin didn’t even have time for a detailed interrogation. He directly had people strip this Major and the others naked, tie them into balls like "ill-fated lovers," gag them, and throw them into the bushes by the roadside.

Later, when the fortress was breached, the containment troops of the Second Army Group also went to "recover" these prisoners based on the coordinates Morin provided.

It was said that when he was found, this Major had been bitten by August mosquitoes until he was a size fatter.

"Why? Is there a problem with this Mr. Major?"

Recalling these details, Morin smiled, looking at Major Nicolai and saying in a relaxed tone:

"Could it be that because I stripped his pants back then, this gentleman feels insulted and now wants to duel me?"

"Hahahaha, that’s not it... Lieutenant Colonel Morin really knows how to joke."

Major Nicolai also smiled along, but his vulture-like eyes still stared at Morin from time to time, as if wanting to see something on the face of this young Lieutenant Colonel.

"This Major Cavendish, you also saw his full name is Arthur William Cavendish..."

"He is a direct descendant of the Duke of Devonshire from the Britannian mainland. Although not the first in line of succession, he carries quite a bit of weight in Britannian aristocratic circles."

"Oh?"

Morin raised his eyebrows. Back then he was guessing whether the surname "Cavendish" belonged to some noble; now it seemed it really did.

"Then it seems we should be able to make a small fortune this time? For a noble prisoner of this level, according to the traditional rules among those nobles, the ransom alone shouldn’t be a small number, right?"

In the unspoken rules of war in this era, captured noble officers of various countries usually received preferential treatment.

As long as they hadn’t committed war crimes like massacring prisoners of war, the two sides would often negotiate through neutral countries or other channels, paying a handsome ransom or exchanging prisoners of equal status.

During this period, these noble prisoners could even drink red wine and smoke cigars in the POW camps. Except for not being able to move freely, they lived much more comfortably than frontline soldiers.

At least this was the case before the outbreak of the new round of the great war in August 1914.

"It was indeed originally intended to be handled this way."

Major Nicolai nodded, then changed the subject, his voice dropping a few notches:

"But the problem is that our newly established Department III of the Army General Staff, which is the department responsible for military intelligence reconnaissance and counter-espionage work, recently happened to be lacking a subject to practice on..."

Saying this, Major Nicolai looked around.

Morin understood and waved his hand at Paulus, who was still organizing documents nearby: "Paulus, take the others and go out first. Guard the door, no one is allowed to enter."

"Yes, sir."

Paulus didn’t say any nonsense and immediately led the regimental clerks out of the command post.

And the two adjutants following Major Nicolai, upon the latter’s eye signal, also followed them out.

As the door curtain of the underground command post was lowered, only Morin and Nicolai were left in the dim underground bunker.

The radiant crystal heater emitted a slight humming sound, and the orange-red light cast dancing shadows on the faces of the two.

"You can speak now, Major Nicolai."

Morin leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the camp desk in front of him:

"It seems you dug out something incredible from this unlucky guy?"

Major Nicolai pulled a silver cigarette case from his overcoat pocket, offered one to Morin, and after the latter indicated he didn’t smoke, lit one for himself.

After taking a deep drag, he spoke slowly amidst the curling smoke, his tone like he was telling a bizarre story.

"This matter is also a coincidence to speak of."

"After Major Cavendish was sent to the rear, due to his special status, he was locked up separately in the senior officer area of the First POW Camp."

"At that time, Department III of the Army General Staff hadn’t been established for long. The people under us were all rookies just recruited from the police, military academies, and reserves, urgently needing practical combat experience."

"So, we treated this pampered Major as a ’teaching aid’."

Major Nicolai flicked his cigarette ash, a mocking smile appearing on his face, clearly also not thinking much of that unlucky Britannian noble.

"We originally just wanted to go through the motions, to let those rookies learn how to deal with enemy nobles, how to extract some basic intelligence like unit designations and supply situations without losing etiquette."

"After all, everyone thought that this kind of young master soldier born with a silver spoon in his mouth was just a gilded straw bag, with nothing real in his belly."

Morin nodded. This action indeed fit common sense.

True core secrets were usually in the hands of the general staff and frontline commanders. Noble officers responsible for liaison like this were often just mouthpieces, or mascots coming to the front line to mix qualifications and gild themselves.

"But..."

Major Nicolai was obviously a good storyteller, and his voice suddenly turned cold along with the change in the plot.

"No one expected that during that routine questioning, a rookie who had just joined Department III noticed something amiss."

"That rookie used to work in the ’psychology laboratory’ at Leipzig University. He is very sensitive to human micro-expressions."

"In the report he submitted, he mentioned that whenever Major Cavendish was asked about his whereabouts in the month before he was captured, this Major’s eyes would subconsciously glance to the lower right, and his fingers would unconsciously rub the hem of his clothes."

"According to the judgment of some other experts specially hired by Department III from Leipzig University, this might be an expression of lying and anxiety."

Hearing this, Morin also realized that the concept of "psychology" seemed to have indeed been established at this point in time.

And in the world before his transmigration, it seemed it really was the Germans who first established a "psychology laboratory" at Leipzig University.

While these thoughts flashed through his mind, Morin also became completely interested in this matter.

Because he always had a feeling that he was experiencing the kind of "weekly bragging story" told by "Little John Khan" (a popular Chinese history/storytelling YouTuber).

Morin narrowed his eyes and continued to ask: "Lying and anxiety... It seems this Major Cavendish indeed has a secret?"

"No, it’s not just as simple as having a secret."

Major Nicolai shook his head:

"More importantly, that rookie reviewed the document bag carried by Major Cavendish—please allow me to express my gratitude to you, Lieutenant Colonel. If you hadn’t handed these spoils of war over to the Army Group Command after the operation, we might not be having this conversation today."

"It is the duty of every Imperial soldier to hand over important spoils of war in a timely manner." Morin said without blushing or his heart skipping a beat.

"You truly are a pillar of the Empire, Lieutenant Colonel Morin."

"Not at all, Major Nicolai, you flatter me~"

After the two complimented each other like this for a while, Major Nicolai continued:

"This Major Cavendish has a habit of writing a diary and carried a private diary with him. It recorded some trivial expenses, like where he bought cigars, where he drank coffee."

"That rookie connected these locations on the map and discovered a very interesting phenomenon."

Major Nicolai stretched out his finger and drew a circle in the air over the map on Morin’s desk.

"In the three weeks before he was dispatched to the Liège Fortress, this Major frequently complained about the terrible coffee at the Britannian Empire’s Military Intelligence Directorate, yet had to travel to the Military Intelligence Directorate to attend meetings multiple times."

"But this is completely inconsistent with his resume as a ’liaison officer.’ According to what we interrogated previously, during that time period, his public itinerary should have been staying in the War Office drinking afternoon tea."

"After discovering this suspicious point, we immediately realized that this fish might be bigger than we thought."

Major Nicolai’s eyes became sharp:

"So, we swapped in veterans to take over the interrogation."

"At first, it was still according to ’noble treatment,’ serving good wine and good food, speaking politely, trying to make him open his mouth by boiling a frog in warm water."

"But this guy’s mouth was very tough, and he also realized that we had discovered the secret on him..."

"Or rather, he knew very well how important the secret he was keeping was. Once leaked, even if he returned to Britannia, he would be court-martialed, and it would even implicate his family."

Speaking of this, Major Nicolai also couldn’t help but sneer.

"He kept using the Geneva Conventions and noble honor as shields, claiming he was just an ordinary liaison officer and would say nothing except his name, rank, and serial number."

"This stalemate lasted for three full days."

"The people in our Department III also got anxious, because after all, this was the first battle after the department was established. If we couldn’t even handle a noble officer, how could we hold our heads up in the General Staff in the future?"

Morin roughly guessed the direction of the following plot.

In this stage where the war gradually moved towards cruelty and barbarism, the so-called knightly spirit and noble demeanor were being shredded bit by bit by barbed wire and machine guns.

When the value of intelligence exceeded the bottom line of morality, some things were inevitable.

"So, you tortured him?" Morin asked calmly.

"The word ’torture’ is too crude, Lieutenant Colonel."

Major Nicolai blew a smoke ring, his tone understated.

"We just created some pressure for him."

"For example, locking him in a confinement cell with no light, no sound, only the sound of dripping water, and starving him for two days."

"For this kind of noble young master who lived a pampered life since childhood, this kind of torment is more effective than direct torture..."

Morin didn’t speak, just listened quietly.

Although Major Nicolai described it lightly, he knew very well that the real situation was definitely not something that could be glossed over in one or two sentences.

In order to pry open the mouths of their own kind, human imagination in this regard could be said to have always been quite rich.

"And the result?" Morin asked.

"The result was exactly as we expected. He wasn’t a tough guy at all."

Major Nicolai threw his cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it out with his boot, his movements so forceful it was as if he wanted to crush something.

"He quickly confessed to a whole bunch of things, including peeking at the maids bathing when he was a kid."

"And in this pile of nonsense, we finally heard that name."

Major Nicolai leaned forward, his sinister eyes staring seriously at Morin, enunciating each word clearly:

"The Britannians are executing a top-secret operation, code-named—Prometheus (Fire Stealer)."

The instant he heard this word, Morin’s heart inevitably skipped a beat.

But the expression on his face was controlled extremely well, only revealing a trace of confusion and surprise at the right moment, like an ordinary officer hearing this word for the first time.

"Prometheus (Fire Stealer)?"

Morin was instantly possessed by an Oscar-winning actor, frowning, seeming to chew over the meaning of the word:

"Prometheus? Are the Britannians trying to compare themselves to the god who brought fire to humanity?"

"This name actually sounds very much like their style, arrogant and conceited."

Morin shrugged, his tone carrying a bit of mockery:

"What? Did they develop some weapon that can burn the whole of Europa to ashes? Or did their Highland Mage Order finally figure out how to summon the legendary fire elementals?"

Major Nicolai had been observing Morin’s reaction all along.

Seeing Morin act so naturally, the trace of scrutiny in his eyes slowly faded.

"That’s not the case. It’s rather that the Britannians have set their sights on a certain technology of the Gauls... which is the ’Sentinel’ unit you encountered in the Battle of Creil, Lieutenant Colonel."

Speaking of this, Major Nicolai also couldn’t help but become a bit strange:

"Lieutenant Colonel Morin, sometimes I even doubt whether all this has something to do with you, otherwise why did you run into all of them?"

Morin smiled and shook his head: "Hahahaha, should I say I have good luck or bad luck? After all, these things you mentioned can’t be considered good things, right?"

Major Nicolai shrugged noncommittally, then continued:

"In short, the Britannians are plotting to acquire technologies related to the ’Sentinels,’ and according to information we obtained from other channels, their last operation already failed. Now they seem to be preparing to execute the plan again."

"But why did you come to find me today?" Morin asked the most crucial question.