Temes1066
To Defy Gravity you must Let It Go
- Location
- Coleraine
I don't want to be rude, but Veterans has been spelled incorrectly twice & left out once.
By the way what does Old Guard mean?
-
Going forward, links to content from Twitter (now X) will no longer be embedded. Pre-existing links should not be affected.
La Chanson de la Victoire (The Song of Victory): La Petite Arpenteuse (Non, SV, you are a General of France in the Napoleonic War!)
- Thread starter Plausbius
- Start date
- Mature Alt. History
I don't want to be rude, but Veterans has been spelled incorrectly twice & left out once.
By the way what does Old Guard mean?
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
It's late for me... very late and I just had 15 in the shop today... forgive me If I'm not 100% and making spelling mistakes.
Edit: The Old Guard ar the highest rank (in terms of experience, training and sheer badassery) that any unit can achieve. They will never break, they will never surrender, and they can do some pretty ludicrous things.
Like, have some damn good roll bonuses in addition to their commander's roll bonus as well, and even Disobey orders to do things that are even better then even you planned.
Last edited:
Vote closed
BritishGrenadier
Summon The Elector Counts!
- Location
- Nova Scotia Halifax
they will never break unless in a truly hopeless position like in Waterloo.... unfortunately.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
I mean, hopefully, we won't put them in a situation where victory is hopeless...
If we do, then we have failed as a General.
BritishGrenadier
Summon The Elector Counts!
- Location
- Nova Scotia Halifax
Also will they have the ability to cause fear like In the total war games?
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
We haven't decided yet if its a massive roll bonus in addition to their commanders, the ability to inflict a roll malus (fear) onto the enemy, or another just as powerful bonus.
We didn't want to make them super broken... but powerful for continued investment.
BritishGrenadier
Summon The Elector Counts!
- Location
- Nova Scotia Halifax
Maybe allow for the choosing of special abilties by regiment of the imperial guard like the ability to inspire or Fear, last stand, etc.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
I'll talk to Plaus a little more see if we can compromise on something.
8.0: The Sunny Side of Sunny France; Le côté ensoleillé de la France ensoleillée
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
8.0: The Sunny Side of Sunny France; Le côté ensoleillé de la France ensoleillée
The apartment that had become your office was far too spacious for your liking. The windows were far too large, the room stretching on forever. The marble is too good for a regular person to even see, much less afford. Yet here you sat, sitting in the lap of luxury, planning an offensive that may kill thousands. One you protested, now you had to lead.
But you had to deal with something far more important right now. A Chief of Staff that would keep you alive.
De Lisle stood at attention as you looked up from the desk, the paperwork you were working on, finished, and signed with your signature. "Captain. I'm sure you realize why you are here?"
"No Mademoiselle." He replied before he gave a wry smile. "But I assume it is not about my lovely singing voice?"
Jester as always… but his joke made you smile. "No sir. It is not, though my order still stands. You sing in front of me and the children, I'll make sure the Latrine is your duty for that day."
The running joke of the staff, you would give whoever sang the worse the overseeing of the Latrine duties. Something you did once a week to prevent disease in the camp and Chamans regularly inspected so that it would not pollute the water supply of the camp.
Possibly the most important task in the camp, besides regulating the supply consumption of the massive group of troops that he cared for.
"De Lisle… do you trust my judgment?" the question was now asked, and you had to hear his answer. Hopefully, he answered wisely.
De Lisle was quiet for a moment, looking away from your face. "You have never done anything that would warrant me to question your judgment."
"Would you question it?" you asked, crossing your fingers, interlocking them, and allowing yourself to lean forward. "If we were to say, tell you to charge a fortified position, that would kill thousands but end a war?"
De Lisle frowned. "Without question? No."
"What would you say?" You asked.
"I would ask you how the hell you got yourself into a position that would force you to make such a choice. I would not allow you to go there… I would force a retreat, to gather forces, to show strength, to negotiate with the garrison to a favorable surrender. Failing that, I would build a series of fortifications around that position, preventing their escape. Then continue on. Wasting men in battle when we can out-think them is something far more powerful than committing to battle where men will die needlessly. I do not want men to die without reason… not when I can dream of another way."
He turned towards you. "Does that answer your question?"
You smiled. "Yes, it does." You stood up and handed over the paper. "Your commission to the rank of Colonel and to become my chief of staff."
De Lisle raised an eyebrow. "I would have suspected Chamans-"
"Chamans is a good man, yes, and in any other world, for any other campaign, he would be my chief of staff. But this isn't a normal campaign. This is a campaign across the Mediterranean, in a foreign land with little in the way of supplies." You stated. "I need someone who can achieve that. Can you do that?"
De Lisle saluted. "I can, Mademoiselle."
"Good. Dismissed."
Reward: Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle is now a Colonel, and is now your Chief of Staff.
Gain Army Spirit: An Army and It's Stomach (Teir I): De Lisle is a man who has made it his mission to maintain an ample supply line in any territory, whether it be through forging off the land, maintaining a quick supply line that can keep pace with a quick army, or keeping a ship-based supply to sail up impossible rivers, he will keep an army fed, clothed and supplied. (When the campaign begins, your army will have an additional 1 quarter of supplies.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The children were sitting in the chairs, reading the letter you had received earlier in the week. Correspondence from their aunt, demanding that they returned to her.
The usual angry, diplomatic bluster from a woman who had no power anymore. Yet you saw how angry they both were, reading those letters. How hurt that someone they knew and cared for, wished for them to be… what they once were.
Louis for his part refused to read anymore, or listen to his sister read anymore, and your arrival gave him a chance to voice his concern. "Are you going to send us back to our aunt?" He asked.
You had an answer, and it was one that you still felt a pang of guilt with every thought crossing your mind.
You were endangering these children with your choice. It was not like letting them live in a camp and staying in a city that was fortified, with only the smallest of risk that could get them hurt.
No, they would be on the front lines, in direct danger in raids, in battle and even if they stayed behind, they would be endangered from agents and saboteurs.
"Non." You stated firmly. "Unless you want to?"
They didn't. That much you knew from everything you learned from them. They had no want to return to their old lives that their aunt represented. But that was stability… family. Something you could not give them. Not with this work, not with this kind of campaign.
Their silence was all you needed to hear to know their answer.
But it was you set your swords down, and relaxed in a chair, Charlotte rose from her seat. "Thérèse, I have a request."
You raised an eyebrow. "Alright? What is it?" you asked, desperately hoping that she would want to send Louis to the Academy, where they would at least be safe from potential death or dismemberment that this campaign.
"I wish to be hired officially as your personal secretary." She stated.
You raised an eyebrow. This was not what you expected. "Why?"
"I want to be more useful, to feel more useful as well, than just the ward that a republican government thrust upon you because everyone else would not work." She stated. "And I want to no longer live off your kindness. I want to earn a salary that I can support myself and my brother with."
She… certainly had spirit. "A Secretary? What makes you think I won't just pick a junior officer to do that job for me?"
"Because you haven't yet. You've let me handle, edit and rewrite letters for you multiple times, even when your letters were passable because they would not help you." She stated. "And you know most junior officers were not trained by some of the best scholars in France for a majority of their lives."
You sighed. She was making a good sales pitch. But she would also not be as protected as you would like. But if she were captured by the enemy, and they used her as a figurehead...
You feared it would get her killed.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Do you Allow Charlotte To become your Personal Secretary?
[]You will allow it: You need all the help you can get.
[]Refuse: You are not going to rob her of the choice to become something else.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
High Command has given you a choice for several officers to serve as your Juniors for your campaign. But only a few.
(Choose 3)
[]Générale de brigade Jean-Baptiste Kléber: A Commander of the Army of the North, of the 6th division under Kellerman and Dumouriez. The man has proven himself competent in battle, and unlike other men that High Command has requested to join you as one of your Juniors. You have met him before when you served in the army of the North, but you did not know him personally. He did respect you and your brother during your time as Surveyors…. Or at the very least, respect your abilities, and competence to not say anything bad about you while you were there. Hopefully, he still has that respect for you, and it wasn't blunted by his pride.
[]Générale de Division Thomas-Alexandre Dumas: The Black Devil of Italy, one of Napoleon's Junior commanders and as it turns out, one of Brian's Friends from the Army of Italy, though he failed to mention him in some correspondence due to distance and a lack of communication. He was wounded a few months ago in an offensive in the Southern Alps, near the Swiss border, climbing up a mountain with Ice spikes and capturing a thousand German Mercenaries under the Employ of the Austrian empire, but has made a full recovery. His reassignment comes with a Letter from Brian. He tells you to be smart, and not to die from governmental incompetence and to remember that it is okay to bend the rules.
[]Générale de Brigade Louis-Alexandre Berthier: The man who could have been Napoleon's Chief of Staff. He has… been snubbed for the position by Brian, but that is not for a lack of incompetence. The man is the most brilliant administrator you have ever read about, and you were quite surprised that he was offered by high command for your army… instead of being made a minister of War or something like that. His grasp at command is brilliant, though when compared to others, it is lesser. With him and Chamans, you think there will never be any paperwork that would be on your desk again.
[]Générale de Brigade Charles Pierre François Augereau: A Veteran of the Vendee Campaign and a member of the Armée des Pyrénées Orientales that just defends the French Spanish border, not the most glamorous position, since Spain had not engaged in any hostilities with France at this point, and with the recent victories in the North and Italy, would not happen. His request for reassignment led to his name being placed on your desk as a choice for a junior Brigade General, instead of the divisional command he requested.
[]Colonel Louis Lazare Hoche: A recently released Colonel, who was arrested on false charges by the Committee of Public Safety, he rejoined the army with his commission. The Directorate is begging you to take him off their hands because they "Don't want to deal with the previous government's mistakes." His record of service is with the Army of the North, on their southern Flank, in the Netherlands Theatre, and won a commendation for capturing a few colonels during their final push into the Netherlands. He would have become a general if not for his imprisonment.
They have also given you the ability to choose a Naval Attache for your army, choosing the man who would be perfect for continued communication and success on the Naval Front
(Overall Naval command will be under François-Paul Brueys d'Aigalliers, who you will need to work with, and convince of any changes to the operations plans):
(Choose 1)
[]Étienne Eustache Bruix: A Recently unretired naval captain, who had written extensively on french naval self-sufficiency. He is a man of command, of ideas, and possibility. He was also, like you, a surveyor, having spent his early career on Saint-Domingue, where he surveyed the coastline for safe harbors. He has served all over the world, in America, Africa, and France itself. Traditional to a fault, he is competent, careful, and kin in a professional experience. His insight would be brilliant in planning your campaign if only he could get over some of the many superstitions about women on ships.
[]Adam Serre: A colorful man with a colorful past. A Freeman of Color, from Saint-Domingue, he joined the French Navy when he was twelve and slowly rose through the ranks over years of service, and became a captain of a Frigate. He is brash, bold, having risen through the ranks with daring plans, guile, and trickery. When the American Revolution broke out, he turned privateer and attacked British vessels on the behalf of American rebels. After the war ended, and he rejoined the navy, he became a captain, of ill repute by most British sailors, well-liked by the Admiralty for an iron-clad discipline on his vessels, and becoming a terror in the Mediterranean. Last you heard, he had an over 100,000 Pound Bounty on his head by the British for his capture, after he sank six frigates during Napoleon's rescue and Liberation of Toulon. Outspoken and political, you think his assignment to you is punishment from admiralty for requesting more effort to expand the ranks for more Freedmen of color from serving in the Navy as more senior officers, and for a continued push to annex the Spanish colonies on the remainder of Hispaniola.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How do you wish to Organize your Army?:
Current Forces:
15th Division (You can reorganize the Division and Transfer Soldiers):
6000 Infantry Veterans
32,500 Infantry (Regulars) **
2,000 Riflemen ( Veterans ) *
2,000 Lancers (Old Guard) ***
1,000 Dragoons (Old Guard) *
3000 Dragoons ( Veterans )
2000 Lancers Veterans
3,000 Artillerymen/70 cannons (Regulars) **
5,000 Infantry (Untrained)
Unsorted Men:
35,000 Infantry (Regulars)
3,000 Lancers (Regulars)
3000 Dragoons (Veterans)
4000 Artillerymen/60 guns (Regulars)
----------------------------------------------------------------------
[]Write in Division Make up here (Nicknames optional)
Example:
[]Plan Example
-5th Division, The First of France
-15,000 Infantry (Regulars)
-1000 Lancers (Regulars)
-1000 Artillerymen/ 30 guns (Regulars)
-Commanded by Colonel Chamans
AN: Hello Everyone, here is the update.
I thank you all for waiting so patiently for the next update, but before we start with the Training, you will need to organize the men into their units.
The vote will not open for a day or two, so all the discussion and planning can occur.
And it will be in Plan Format.
Edit: Yes, one of the Naval Attache's are a fictional character based off our Privateer Past starting choice.
Juliet 29th, 1794, Port of Toulon, France
The apartment that had become your office was far too spacious for your liking. The windows were far too large, the room stretching on forever. The marble is too good for a regular person to even see, much less afford. Yet here you sat, sitting in the lap of luxury, planning an offensive that may kill thousands. One you protested, now you had to lead.
But you had to deal with something far more important right now. A Chief of Staff that would keep you alive.
De Lisle stood at attention as you looked up from the desk, the paperwork you were working on, finished, and signed with your signature. "Captain. I'm sure you realize why you are here?"
"No Mademoiselle." He replied before he gave a wry smile. "But I assume it is not about my lovely singing voice?"
Jester as always… but his joke made you smile. "No sir. It is not, though my order still stands. You sing in front of me and the children, I'll make sure the Latrine is your duty for that day."
The running joke of the staff, you would give whoever sang the worse the overseeing of the Latrine duties. Something you did once a week to prevent disease in the camp and Chamans regularly inspected so that it would not pollute the water supply of the camp.
Possibly the most important task in the camp, besides regulating the supply consumption of the massive group of troops that he cared for.
"De Lisle… do you trust my judgment?" the question was now asked, and you had to hear his answer. Hopefully, he answered wisely.
De Lisle was quiet for a moment, looking away from your face. "You have never done anything that would warrant me to question your judgment."
"Would you question it?" you asked, crossing your fingers, interlocking them, and allowing yourself to lean forward. "If we were to say, tell you to charge a fortified position, that would kill thousands but end a war?"
De Lisle frowned. "Without question? No."
"What would you say?" You asked.
"I would ask you how the hell you got yourself into a position that would force you to make such a choice. I would not allow you to go there… I would force a retreat, to gather forces, to show strength, to negotiate with the garrison to a favorable surrender. Failing that, I would build a series of fortifications around that position, preventing their escape. Then continue on. Wasting men in battle when we can out-think them is something far more powerful than committing to battle where men will die needlessly. I do not want men to die without reason… not when I can dream of another way."
He turned towards you. "Does that answer your question?"
You smiled. "Yes, it does." You stood up and handed over the paper. "Your commission to the rank of Colonel and to become my chief of staff."
De Lisle raised an eyebrow. "I would have suspected Chamans-"
"Chamans is a good man, yes, and in any other world, for any other campaign, he would be my chief of staff. But this isn't a normal campaign. This is a campaign across the Mediterranean, in a foreign land with little in the way of supplies." You stated. "I need someone who can achieve that. Can you do that?"
De Lisle saluted. "I can, Mademoiselle."
"Good. Dismissed."
Reward: Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle is now a Colonel, and is now your Chief of Staff.
Gain Army Spirit: An Army and It's Stomach (Teir I): De Lisle is a man who has made it his mission to maintain an ample supply line in any territory, whether it be through forging off the land, maintaining a quick supply line that can keep pace with a quick army, or keeping a ship-based supply to sail up impossible rivers, he will keep an army fed, clothed and supplied. (When the campaign begins, your army will have an additional 1 quarter of supplies.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The children were sitting in the chairs, reading the letter you had received earlier in the week. Correspondence from their aunt, demanding that they returned to her.
The usual angry, diplomatic bluster from a woman who had no power anymore. Yet you saw how angry they both were, reading those letters. How hurt that someone they knew and cared for, wished for them to be… what they once were.
Louis for his part refused to read anymore, or listen to his sister read anymore, and your arrival gave him a chance to voice his concern. "Are you going to send us back to our aunt?" He asked.
You had an answer, and it was one that you still felt a pang of guilt with every thought crossing your mind.
You were endangering these children with your choice. It was not like letting them live in a camp and staying in a city that was fortified, with only the smallest of risk that could get them hurt.
No, they would be on the front lines, in direct danger in raids, in battle and even if they stayed behind, they would be endangered from agents and saboteurs.
"Non." You stated firmly. "Unless you want to?"
They didn't. That much you knew from everything you learned from them. They had no want to return to their old lives that their aunt represented. But that was stability… family. Something you could not give them. Not with this work, not with this kind of campaign.
Their silence was all you needed to hear to know their answer.
But it was you set your swords down, and relaxed in a chair, Charlotte rose from her seat. "Thérèse, I have a request."
You raised an eyebrow. "Alright? What is it?" you asked, desperately hoping that she would want to send Louis to the Academy, where they would at least be safe from potential death or dismemberment that this campaign.
"I wish to be hired officially as your personal secretary." She stated.
You raised an eyebrow. This was not what you expected. "Why?"
"I want to be more useful, to feel more useful as well, than just the ward that a republican government thrust upon you because everyone else would not work." She stated. "And I want to no longer live off your kindness. I want to earn a salary that I can support myself and my brother with."
She… certainly had spirit. "A Secretary? What makes you think I won't just pick a junior officer to do that job for me?"
"Because you haven't yet. You've let me handle, edit and rewrite letters for you multiple times, even when your letters were passable because they would not help you." She stated. "And you know most junior officers were not trained by some of the best scholars in France for a majority of their lives."
You sighed. She was making a good sales pitch. But she would also not be as protected as you would like. But if she were captured by the enemy, and they used her as a figurehead...
You feared it would get her killed.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Do you Allow Charlotte To become your Personal Secretary?
[]You will allow it: You need all the help you can get.
[]Refuse: You are not going to rob her of the choice to become something else.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
High Command has given you a choice for several officers to serve as your Juniors for your campaign. But only a few.
(Choose 3)
[]Générale de brigade Jean-Baptiste Kléber: A Commander of the Army of the North, of the 6th division under Kellerman and Dumouriez. The man has proven himself competent in battle, and unlike other men that High Command has requested to join you as one of your Juniors. You have met him before when you served in the army of the North, but you did not know him personally. He did respect you and your brother during your time as Surveyors…. Or at the very least, respect your abilities, and competence to not say anything bad about you while you were there. Hopefully, he still has that respect for you, and it wasn't blunted by his pride.
[]Générale de Division Thomas-Alexandre Dumas: The Black Devil of Italy, one of Napoleon's Junior commanders and as it turns out, one of Brian's Friends from the Army of Italy, though he failed to mention him in some correspondence due to distance and a lack of communication. He was wounded a few months ago in an offensive in the Southern Alps, near the Swiss border, climbing up a mountain with Ice spikes and capturing a thousand German Mercenaries under the Employ of the Austrian empire, but has made a full recovery. His reassignment comes with a Letter from Brian. He tells you to be smart, and not to die from governmental incompetence and to remember that it is okay to bend the rules.
[]Générale de Brigade Louis-Alexandre Berthier: The man who could have been Napoleon's Chief of Staff. He has… been snubbed for the position by Brian, but that is not for a lack of incompetence. The man is the most brilliant administrator you have ever read about, and you were quite surprised that he was offered by high command for your army… instead of being made a minister of War or something like that. His grasp at command is brilliant, though when compared to others, it is lesser. With him and Chamans, you think there will never be any paperwork that would be on your desk again.
[]Générale de Brigade Charles Pierre François Augereau: A Veteran of the Vendee Campaign and a member of the Armée des Pyrénées Orientales that just defends the French Spanish border, not the most glamorous position, since Spain had not engaged in any hostilities with France at this point, and with the recent victories in the North and Italy, would not happen. His request for reassignment led to his name being placed on your desk as a choice for a junior Brigade General, instead of the divisional command he requested.
[]Colonel Louis Lazare Hoche: A recently released Colonel, who was arrested on false charges by the Committee of Public Safety, he rejoined the army with his commission. The Directorate is begging you to take him off their hands because they "Don't want to deal with the previous government's mistakes." His record of service is with the Army of the North, on their southern Flank, in the Netherlands Theatre, and won a commendation for capturing a few colonels during their final push into the Netherlands. He would have become a general if not for his imprisonment.
They have also given you the ability to choose a Naval Attache for your army, choosing the man who would be perfect for continued communication and success on the Naval Front
(Overall Naval command will be under François-Paul Brueys d'Aigalliers, who you will need to work with, and convince of any changes to the operations plans):
(Choose 1)
[]Étienne Eustache Bruix: A Recently unretired naval captain, who had written extensively on french naval self-sufficiency. He is a man of command, of ideas, and possibility. He was also, like you, a surveyor, having spent his early career on Saint-Domingue, where he surveyed the coastline for safe harbors. He has served all over the world, in America, Africa, and France itself. Traditional to a fault, he is competent, careful, and kin in a professional experience. His insight would be brilliant in planning your campaign if only he could get over some of the many superstitions about women on ships.
[]Adam Serre: A colorful man with a colorful past. A Freeman of Color, from Saint-Domingue, he joined the French Navy when he was twelve and slowly rose through the ranks over years of service, and became a captain of a Frigate. He is brash, bold, having risen through the ranks with daring plans, guile, and trickery. When the American Revolution broke out, he turned privateer and attacked British vessels on the behalf of American rebels. After the war ended, and he rejoined the navy, he became a captain, of ill repute by most British sailors, well-liked by the Admiralty for an iron-clad discipline on his vessels, and becoming a terror in the Mediterranean. Last you heard, he had an over 100,000 Pound Bounty on his head by the British for his capture, after he sank six frigates during Napoleon's rescue and Liberation of Toulon. Outspoken and political, you think his assignment to you is punishment from admiralty for requesting more effort to expand the ranks for more Freedmen of color from serving in the Navy as more senior officers, and for a continued push to annex the Spanish colonies on the remainder of Hispaniola.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How do you wish to Organize your Army?:
Current Forces:
15th Division (You can reorganize the Division and Transfer Soldiers):
6000 Infantry Veterans
32,500 Infantry (Regulars) **
2,000 Riflemen ( Veterans ) *
2,000 Lancers (Old Guard) ***
1,000 Dragoons (Old Guard) *
3000 Dragoons ( Veterans )
2000 Lancers Veterans
3,000 Artillerymen/70 cannons (Regulars) **
5,000 Infantry (Untrained)
Unsorted Men:
35,000 Infantry (Regulars)
3,000 Lancers (Regulars)
3000 Dragoons (Veterans)
4000 Artillerymen/60 guns (Regulars)
----------------------------------------------------------------------
[]Write in Division Make up here (Nicknames optional)
Example:
[]Plan Example
-5th Division, The First of France
-15,000 Infantry (Regulars)
-1000 Lancers (Regulars)
-1000 Artillerymen/ 30 guns (Regulars)
-Commanded by Colonel Chamans
AN: Hello Everyone, here is the update.
I thank you all for waiting so patiently for the next update, but before we start with the Training, you will need to organize the men into their units.
The vote will not open for a day or two, so all the discussion and planning can occur.
And it will be in Plan Format.
Edit: Yes, one of the Naval Attache's are a fictional character based off our Privateer Past starting choice.
Last edited:
Church And State (Foxwood)
- Location
- USA
Well, "Old Guard" is just an indication they have a level of experience and training comparable to the OTL Old Guard, yes? In which case, they probably have similar uniforms to their regular counterparts... Of course, depending on how long they've been like that, unit culture could have expanded enough to regimental markings and modified uniforms could give them a reputation among the enemy.
Hauptmann Peiper checked his ensemble in the small vanity mirror that rested on his desk. Boots shined, trousers bloused, collar… There we go, popped open just so. It felt good to look this damn good in the brilliant white of an Austrian officer. The lips that latched on to the side of his neck from behind came at a very close second, however.
"Oh, behave yourself." Fritz chuckled, allowing a nonetheless pleased hum to escape him. Gefreiter* Mueller impishly grinned as he gave his charge an appreciative squeeze, before offering Peiper his gloves. "Don't believe me when I say you look presentable, sir?"
"Ha. Don't fret, I believe you, this is just for my own amusement." The adjutant retorted, meandering over to exit the tent as he pulled on his gloves. "Did you receive any word about the Prussian wandering about before you roused me?" Muller's smirk didn't dissipate as he shrugged.
"None of my friends have so much as heard a peep out of his tent, much less seen him skulking about. Why? Trying to replace me with someone closer to your station?" There was no rancor in the question, though the tilt in his head suggested curiosity. Fritz scoffed at the notion, surprising his aide. "Him? Right. Straight-laced and sullen, as if he would be one of us, much less someone I would be interested in that capacity." With that, the Hauptmann took another moment to confirm that he was decent and that there was no indication of his frolicking about with his subordinate, before pushing aside the tent flap and taking his leave.
The tension could be cut with a knife. As the combined forces of the Austrians and Piedmontese marched together, the latter's suspicion of the former only increased, especially when De Vins recovered enough from his gout to visit their officers and inspect their troops, before the disease relapsed and he had to recover behind the main body of the army. He was mildly caustic at the best of times, and rumors of a lack of coordination between himself and the Piedmontese commander, Michelangelo Colli, spread like a pestilence through the camp. Some within the Austrian command believed the Piedmontese to be ill-disciplined and churlish to the point that they expected the very worst of them, while the rank-and-file among the Italians believed that the Austrians intended on betraying them. Even now, as Fritz wandered between the divide, he could see the blue-coated Piedmontese troops glaring at him with suspicion and disgust from their camp fires, huddled together on the unseasonably chilly, overcast day.
Mercifully, Fritz made it to Rudolf's tent without incident, quite rudely entering without announcing himself. "Good morning, good morning, good morning, it's time to rise and shine!~" He called out in a grating sing-song fashion as he infiltrated Prussian ground. Despite it being noon, he found Rudolf still asleep… For what it was worth. He tossed and turned, his blanket sweated through, mumbling gibberish and eyes rolling behind their lids. The wind very much taken out of his sails, Fritz leaned back slightly, one eye narrowed and discomfort all over his face. Despite this, they still had a day ahead of them…
"Er, heh, herr Fuchs?" No answer. "Verdammt, must be a helluva dream." Fritz noted privately as he approached. "Herr Fuchs, you need to-" He placed his hands on Rudolf's shoulders in an attempt to rouse him.
He was quite successful, though he didn't get a chance to shake the Prussian awake, before Rudolf's eyes opened, bloodshot and wide. He shouted in a wild, high-pitched mix of rage and fear as he wrapped his hands around the throat of the silhouette he had been confronted with, exploding from his cot and bringing them both to the ground. "Halt, Maj-! Argh!" The silhouette yelped as he hit Rudolf's desk on the way down, knocking over his inkwell.
To his credit, Fritz brought his fists down on the inside of Rudolf's elbows before he could lock out his grip and put pressure on his jugular vein and carotid artery, then delivered a headbutt to the Major and forced him back with a kick to the chest. "It's Peiper, you maniac!"
The sense knocked into him, Rudolf pushed himself up into a seated position, panting and squinting, unsure if this was the real life or just fantasy. What light was streaming through the cloth of the tent revealed the white fabric of Fritz's uniform, and that was that. The young Major fell onto his back and covered his face with a mix of a sigh and a groan. "I… Am sorry, Hauptmann."
"Well, you should be! See if I don't send a grenadier to rouse you next time! Besides, it's noon, you should have been up before the crack of dawn, running three kilometers or whatever it is you do." Fritz chided as he clambered onto his feet, moving over to help Rudolf up.
As he ascended, the Prussian kept a hand over his empty eye socket. "Would you… Happen to have seen my patch?" He asked quietly, clearly embarrassed. The Austrian allowed a sigh to escape him. "Let me look. I believe I glimpsed it by the cand-."
Fritz turned back to the desk, reaching down to the eye patch before stopping himself as he noticed something. Was that… Ink? "No." He denied, terror in his voice, before he rapidly made his escape.
"Peiper?" Fuchs asked, hastily putting on his undershirt without buttoning it as he followed. He found Fritz glaring down at his chest in the pale sunlight with abject disgust and horror, a sizable blot of ink staining his formerly bright white jacket. After a moment, Fritz turned his baleful gaze on Rudolf. The Prussian, not quite understanding what the big deal was, blinked owlishly. Then Fritz started screaming at him. No words, just emotionally pained screams.
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"... On the Artillery Command of the Austrian Royal Army of Italy and Piedmont.
Artillery Regiment "Innsbruck" Nr. 34 is a horse-drawn 12-pounder cannon unit primarily consisting of Croats. Despite the unit's relatively exclusive use of horses in comparison to the rest of the army, they are representative of the experience and training of the rest of the Austrian force.
Nr. 34 participates in battalion-wide training exercises in the morning and afternoon when the army or their detachment is expected to be stationary. The morning exercises generally consist in rapidly limbering and unlimbering the cannon and supply of powder and shot (stored in a magazine box) from the horses, as well as general physical conditioning and rapid mounting and dismounting, both of which are organized into competitions with randomized rewards for the winning crews and additional physical training for the losers. Each crew consists of six men, including one officer and two gunners.
Nr. 34's afternoon exercises consist of loading and live-fire practice, though the latter is a shortened process in an effort to conserve ammunition and powder. The exercise begins with the crew dismounting their horses and once again practicing unlimbering the guns and magazine, but only once. Upon deploying, the crews would fire upon range markers set up by the battalion's officers prior to the exercise.
The right gunner was to prime the piece and load it with powder, while the left gunner would fetch the powder from the magazine and keep ready to fire the cannon at the officer's command. Three soldiers stood on each side of the cannon, to ram and sponge the cannon, and hold the ladle. The second soldier on the left was charged with providing 50 rounds from the magazine.
Prior to loading, the cannon would be well cleaned with a sponge to remove all sparks, filth, and dirt. This is to prevent overheating the gun and causing a catastrophic reaction within the cannon. The powder was added, followed by a wad of hay, and the ball was thrown in.
I attempted to converse with the crewmen through a translator, but the abilities of my translator were limited and their commanding officer suspicious despite my official capacity as an observer."
Rudolf gains +1 to Artillery Command for observing a well-trained cannon crew in action. Someone is probably going to make him the butt of a joke when he turns in this section of his observation reports, however. Gotta start somewhere.
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"You cannot be serious." Rudolf was incredulous. Honestly, he should be offended. Why would Fritz ever even think of making this proposition to him? Who did he think he was?
"You know, an animal's most important survival instinct is to complain. But I didn't take you to be so obnoxious! Besides, I'm only asking you to accompany myself, this lady, and her handmaid." Fritz shook his head in mild disbelief, but amusement colored his features.
"I utterly fail to see how your romantic ventures are any of my business. In case you haven't noticed, we aren't friends." Rudolf sourly stated as his eyes wandered the streets of Torino. Evening was fast approaching, and he could tell from the manner the common folk walked, night was not a good time to be out on the streets.
Totally nonplussed, Fritz continued meandering along quite happily. "Right, not friends. It's not as if I haven't been the one answering all your questions, translating for you, introducing you to some of the command staff, introducing you to my other friends, and-." "Silence."
Fritz allowed a laugh to escape him, not noticing the pre-teen walking directly towards him before the would-be thief was warded off by an icy glare from Rudolf. "Well, I will admit, I am on the way to gather some winnings I made off a bet at cards in one of the local games. It's where I met Lady Setara, actually. Her companion was downright droll-."
Rudolf zoned out, recognizing that Fritz was about to launch into a lengthy dialogue. He generally didn't notice when the Prussian stopped listening. Honestly, it was impressive that Fritz kept it up for the fifteen minutes it took for the men to arrive at a cafe overlooking the Po river. It was a cream-colored structure, tastefully accessorized with foliage along the walls perpendicular to the entrance and along the balcony. Unfortunately, Rudolf couldn't see the name of the establishment as a result, but he reckoned he wouldn't be back anyways.
"Ah, there she is, on the balcony. How's your Italian?" Rudolf noticed a blond, pale-skinned woman wearing a tailored dark green dress waving at them from the balcony. After gaining entry by invoking Lady Setara's name as members of her party, they ascended the stairs, promptly coming face to face with the lady and her attendant. Lady Setara was almost as animated as Fritz, eyes widening in delight as she gestured for the officers to approach from her seat. "Ah, Peiper, it's so good to see you again! Is this a comrade of yours? Why, isn't he an interesting looking fellow, Sabina?" She spoke quickly, a hint of Venetian in her accent.
Rudolf didn't hear her, or Fritz's response as he locked eyes with the mocha-colored woman sitting at Lady Setara's side. Sabina was shorter than her mistress, black curls framing her soft face and stormy grey eyes. Surprisingly, she was clad in a plain black dress, contrasted by her mistress's comparatively festive clothing. She stared back at Rudolf, keeping Lady Setara in suspense for a moment before responding. "Yes, mistress. Very interesting." She affirmed with a carefully neutral tone, a Sicilian lilt in her words.
Fritz nudged Rudolf, drawing his gaze and arching his brow. "Well, don't be rude, my friend, introduce yourself." The Prussian nodded, cleared his throat, before doffing his shako and bowing stiffly. "Major Rudolf Alexander Sebastian Fuchs. A pleasure." As he straightened, Fritz smiled impishly. "I knew you could be charming."
"Oh, a Major? That's quite high, is it not? Oh, sit, sit! I paid for the table, after all!" Lady Setara waved her hand at the seats on the other side of the table from herself and Sabina. Fritz took his own shako off as the men seated themselves, taking in the sight of the Po river as the sun approached the horizon. Rudolf answered for him. "It is the immediate superior to a Captain, but between the fact I have no command and I am not a member of the Austrian army, I have no authority over Hauptmann Peiper. In fact, he has more authority over me, considering it's as much his job to chaperone me as it is to shoo me away from sensitive matters."
"He makes it sound more influential than it is. If it was, I certainly would've done more than have words when he spilled-." The meeting primarily consisted of Fritz and Lady Setara animatedly conversing with an occasional interjection or answer from Rudolf or Sabina, ordering food and refreshments, and observing the sunset.
Rudolf felt an itch that couldn't be scratched in his skin as he awkwardly shifted in his seat. He felt out of place. They weren't the only people on the balcony, couples and groups lively conversing and consuming. Didn't they know a war was on? That any day, the French could cross the hills with all the ferocity of Hannibal? And these two songbirds… He hardly had anything worth talking about in polite company. The most he could do is answer the occasional question about Prussia and what he did as an officer in its military, which regiment he once belonged to, oh, how interesting, our cousin was a line officer. The itch only intensified when the inevitable question came.
"Have you seen battle?" Lady Setara asked. Fritz chuckled heartily as he adjusted his collar, the wine warming his belly and cheeks. "Well, I must admit, this is my first war. But I have had some brutal boxing partners, a couple duels but those were just to first blood." The group's expectant gazes fell upon Rudolf like a spotlight on an escaping prisoner. He had abstained from the wine over the course of the meal, but now felt compelled to take a swig, grabbing the bottle and pouring its contents into his empty glass. His jaw set, fingers now tapping at the table.
Rudolf considered just not answering the question, before glancing towards Fritz and noting his questioning stare, before relenting. "I was at Valmy. Our regiment was the only one to make contact with the French before Von Brunswick ordered a withdrawal." Fritz finally realized the dangerous ground he was treading and quietly returned to his drink. Lady Setara had no such compulsions. "How many Frenchmen did you kill? It must have been so terribly exciting."
She was just ignorant. She didn't mean any harm, really. She couldn't know any better. Rudolf's heart was hammering with… Something. Rage? Frustration? His grip on his glass tightened, before he pressed it's base against the table as he realized what he was doing. "A few. That's all I will say about the matter." He tried not to growl the words out.
Lady Setara didn't seem put out by Rudolf shutting down that part of the conversation. "As you wish! By the by, Hauptmann, how did you pull off that trick in the game?" Fritz smiled, diffusing the tension, before answering. He placed his knee next to Rudolf's seeking to comfort the Prussian.
The Major glanced towards him, before a sensation at the side of the tip of his ring finger brought his attention back to Sabina. Those grey eyes met his icy blue orb, just long enough to hold his attention, to salve the burning in his chest, before the attendant's gaze slid over to her mistress, her hand close enough to maintain physical contact with Rudolf's while giving her enough room to claim it was an accident if the matter was brought up. Rudolf glanced at Sabina's black dress once again, before taking a fortifying breath and returning to the conversation.
The rendezvous continued and ended without further incident. Sabina was dispatched to fetch Lady Setara's carriage, prompting Rudolf to volunteer to accompany her, as the driver was awaiting the ladies a few streets over… As he suspected, honest folk had already returned to their homes, the only people being the desperate, the damned, and guarded aristocrats. Interestingly, the ruffians of the street paid no mind to the duo.
"May I ask you a question?" Rudolf inquired as he observed a gaggle of men playing Liar's Dice in a nearby alley. Sabina hummed assent. "Are you in mourning?" He noted that she seemed more surprised than upset by the question, though she quickly arrested the ascent of her brow and returned to a disciplined and stony expression. "Yes. My husband. Two years ago." A moment of silence… "He was a Freemason?" Another moment of silence, heavy with hesitation. The pro-Republican Freemasons of southern Italy had attempted to gather their strength in 1792, but were discovered, and sent to the gallows. "Yes…" Rudolf allowed an intrigued hum to escape him. "He died well."
Rudolf hitched a ride on the carriage back with Sabina, then disembarked and held the door for Lady Setara as Fritz assisted her into the vehicle. Sabina quickly handed a piece of paper to Rudolf, in plain sight, by necessity. One could hear Lady Setara squealing in excitement as the carriage drove off. "Uh… What was that all about?" Fritz asked Rudolf as the two began to make their way back through town. Rudolf just looked at the hastily scrawled mailing address and the name above it: Sabina Pasquarella.
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Fritz had gotten his winnings easily enough. There was hemming and hawing and other miscellaneous whining from the losing betters, but that was the nature of the game. Rudolf didn't have to so much as say a word, to Fritz's delight.
But the five thugs that left the gambling hall immediately after the officers weren't hard to spot. "Peiper." Rudolf called, a sharp edge to the utterance. "Major, you know I'm only joking. I'm really quite happy for you, you're always so tense. A woman would-." The Prussian pressed his shoulder into Fritz's, steadily pushing him into an alley, quietly urging him along. "Shut the fuck up and go right."
As the thugs entered the alley, they found Fritz hunched over, hand against the wall, as he dry-heaved. "Where'd the other one go?" One asked as they casually approached the easy, drunken prey. "Probably left him, didn't want to deal with his drunk arse anymore." The rearward most layabout answered as the group passed a slightly ajar door, the smell of baking bread wafting through.
The first grabbed Fritz by the back of his shirt, shoving him towards the wall. "Alright, you inbred bastard, where's the money?" The Austrian burped in the thug's face. "It's, ah, up your arse and to the left." Before the thug could rearrange his prospective victim's face, he turned at the sound of a dropping weight.
Rudolf had used the bakery as a hiding place, naked blade dissuading the proprietor from making a stink. The signal of Fritz belching told him that the time was right and that the thugs had taken the bait. He quietly opened the door, disguised his bootfalls among those of the still-moving thugs, and managed to puncture the spine of the rearward most fellow with his infantry saber. He had already cut open the next's skull by the time they realized they were under attack. The third began to back-pedal, desperately reaching for a knife at his belt, before the Prussian punctured his hand, then his stomach, and kicked him off his sword, sending the man onto his back with a wail of pain.
The thug that had grabbed Fritz had his attention returned to the Austrian when the very sober man brought his fists down on his elbows and delivered a headbutt, breaking the thug's nose and causing him to relinquish his grip. Before he could respond, Fritz delivered a picture-perfect upper cut to the ruffian's chin, catching the nerve that resided there and sending him stumbling back, unconscious before he hit the stone ground.
Considering the great change in fortune that had occurred to his motley crew, the final thug turned and made his escape, uncontested by the officers… Who knew betting money was worth three lives?
Rudolf gains +1 to Subterfuge for observing the nature of street thugs, countering them, and the process of blackmail and coercion in acquiring rightfully earned betting money. Maybe not so much should be used, if it's going to cause thugs to be hired and utilized in the first place.
One wonders if the tactics of street gangs could be applied to men on the field, especially light infantry.
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They met at Saorgio. It had been months since they had marched into Italy to check the French advance. Both armies understood that a loss in hemmed-in ground such as the mountainous terrain of Piedmont could end with total destruction. Both were cautious, seeking to find an unassailable position or a path that could lead to the entirety of one against mere detachments of the other at a time.
Napoleon masterminded an opportunity to give the French strength while chipping away at the coalition's forces without forcing a pitched battle, dispatching detachments east, into the neutral Republic of Genoa, taking coastal settlements and threatening Piedmont itself from the south. Meanwhile, the coalition stubbornly fortified and held the settlement of Saorgio and the mountains that stretched to either side of it…
That is to say, De Vins stubbornly held his forces in the same position. Colli had handled the specific deployment of holdouts and regiments, but neither he nor his subordinates were able to move the Austrian commander to create rally points or to extend the line further east to better protect Piedmont, principally the town of Briga Alta. Naturally, Italian morale was at an all-time low.
Rudolf could see it in the way they carried themselves. The slip in discipline, the way soldiers shuffled rather than marched, the increase in intoxicated men in the camp… They knew their training, their determination, and their oaths were being wasted. As they held their positions, the French threatened the independence of their nation elsewhere and made a mockery of them. It was no wonder that their distrust of the Austrians, even him, an unrelated officer, had increased. Their opportunity to fight and die for their nation in a meaningful manner was passing them by.
Rudolf wasn't surprised when reports of a major defeat facilitated by concentrated artillery fire in the center of their line, at Saorgio, streamed into La Brigue*. He was surprised by the sight of French cavalry with a support column of infantry rapidly approaching the settlement, sending the coalition command staff into a whirl of activity, securing sensitive documents and helping the commanders to escape…
But the enemy cavalry consisted primarily of dragoons. They didn't intend on taking the town; they intended on using the nearby mountain pass to block the coalition's retreat. They had to be delayed.
Fritz looked up from where he was stuffing documents into a satchel, noticing Rudolf marching up to General Michealangelo Colli before the Austrian-turned-Piedmontese officer could escape, catching him at the door with his bodyguards. "Herr General." The Prussian greeted, saluting. Colli returned the salute. "Major?"
Rudolf lowered his hand. "Sir. The enemy cavalry consists of mounted infantry. If I were their commander, I would not spend their lives assaulting a defensive position such as this town, but the northern mountain pass our forces will have to withdraw through in order to make it back to Piedmont in good order." Colli lowered his gaze, taking a moment to think before nodding. "I had considered this. We can't hold them."
Rudolf nodded in turn. "We can't stop them, but we can delay them. There is a patch of forest along the basin wall. I can hold it with Grenzers*. Elements of the Karlstadt regiment are already here." Colli blinked, expression carefully neutral. "I will… Consider the matter with one of their offic-." "I will take command, Herr General. It is my proposal."
Colli closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose as he considered. "I cannot ask you to. To risk your life for Piedmont or Austria." "You do not have to ask. Allow me to take a company, and I shall."
Fritz suddenly materialized at his side. "I will go with him, sir. I can translate for him." Colli's jaw set, his gaze sweeping from one, to the other, then back. The Prussian's remaining eye glared back at him with a determination that told him that, if necessary, he would fight to the last man for that ground. It was the apprehension in the Austrian's that told him that they could be trusted not to waste the lives of the Grenzers. "Very well. Discharge your duty. Do no more."
The Croats had lost their company commander at Saorgio. They had been glad to be rid of him, steadfast in his refusal to pull them out of an unwinnable battle as he was. Their guts told them this Prussian would be no better, but orders were orders.
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The ground was rocky and uneven, so much so that some formations could hide a handful of men. Kapitan Karol Wlodzislaw kept his wing in a loose wedge formation to give his troopers room to maneuver, which restricted their speed to a mere canter rather than the gallop he would prefer.
It was an acceptable trade-off. The infantry that had accompanied the Polish dragoons had already broken off to take La Brigue itself, which would threaten the enemy forces retreating from Saorgio… And give his company breathing room to complete the cordon at the mountain pass, trapping the coalition, just as Napoleon had planned. He would be damned if he failed to bring his benefactor's plan to complete fruition. Some had already escaped, but that had been within the Corsican's planned perimeters.
"Kapitan, I think I see something in the forest ahead!" One of his troopers called out, pointing towards the tree line to their north-east. He saw flashes of maroon jackets and bright blue trousers moving between the tree trunks. Austrian Grenzers? Well, he could send a detachment to suppress them from the rocks to their right while the rest of the company moved on to complete the obj-.
The trooper that had made the call out suddenly reared back in the seat of his saddle, blood spurting out of the back of his head as he tumbled off. A chorus of screaming horses followed a wave of fire and thunder on the formation's right. An ambush, and a decent number of enemy combatants on top of that… They would have to be dealt with.
"FIRST PLATOON, WHEEL RIGHT!" Karol roared, pulling back on the reins of his horse and unsheathing his blade, pointing it towards the craggy ground they had been ambushed from. He could already see the Grenzers who had ambushed them making their withdrawal. He could see a man in dark blue accompanying them, musket in hand, clad in an officer's regalia. Some sort of replacement for a previous commander? … It didn't matter.
"COMPANY, DISMOUNT BEHIND THE R-!" Something hot whizzed past his head, close enough to singe the side of his mustache as he turned his head. Karol's amber gaze returned to where it had come from. The Prussian had taken a shot at him, the enemy officer hopping down from the rock he had used as a vantage point, handing his discharged musket to another Grenzer before they continued withdrawing.
Karol cantered after second and third platoons as they found dips in the ground or formations of rocks they could safely conceal their mounts, watching first platoon's pursuit of the Grenzers. The light infantrymen were withdrawing in a column, the Prussian officer bringing up the rear. There was only one platoon of them rushing to safety in the open, more than easy prey for an equal number of cavalrymen. But they were drawing too close to the woodline. "Kurwa." Karol cursed as he spurred his horse onward.
"Keep moving! They're going to be right on us!" Rudolf urged the Croats onward. Most of them didn't understand German, but his intent was clear, as well as Fritz's translation when he distributed his plan among their NCOs and junior officers.
The Prussian Major inwardly cursed himself. He had been hoping to reveal the enemy commander (owing to the enemy regiment's uniform being solid green with little variation) and neutralize him, but he had missed. It was a long shot, and now wasn't the time to dwell on it, especially as the sound of approaching hooves grew louder, quickly joined by the shouts of charging men. "Come on, come on, come on…"
"Otvorena vatra!*" He heard Fritz's voice just a moment before forty muskets sang, sending musket balls sailing to either side of the Grenzers' withdrawing column. Rudolf slowed down enough to check the results… Which spoke for themselves. Half of the enemy platoon had been mowed down, taken off of horseback or collapsing with their mounts. The other half vacillated, before Polish behind the dragoons caught their attention, and they broke off their pursuit.
Rudolf allowed a smile to spread across his features and a triumphant shout to escape him, causing some of the Croats ahead of him to look back and let out a cheer. He was starting to develop a soft spot for skirmishers.
They made it back to the woodline just in time, as the enemy dragoons who had dismounted took up positions in the rocky field and began to open fire. Rudolf let out a whoop as he dived behind some overgrown tree roots, the curious whizzing sound of a round passing nearby ringing in his ears. A hand reached down and grabbed Rudolf by the collar of his uniform, dragging him back behind the tree itself.
"That put some caution in their step, Fuchs!" Fritz laughed, before wincing as balls slammed into the other side of the trunk. Rudolf pushed himself into a crouch beside his guide, beginning the lengthy process of reloading his borrowed musket. "Tell the men to stand their ground! We need to hold out for as long as possible!"
They spent an hour exchanging fire with the dragoons. When the engagement lulled into an occasional shot or two at a time, one could hear gunfire echoing from La Brigue itself. Rudolf didn't have any clue about how many men Colli left to hold the town, or even if he was trying to rally the retreating coalition forces to create a steady stream of reinforcements to the garrison… He doubted the latter. No support was forthcoming to the Grenzers… That was fine. They were suffering light casualties in the skirmish, but this was their job, and they were doing it well.
Karol was consulting his map for the umpteenth time, trying to discern if there was any way he could circumvent this position or at least flank the enemy set up inside its protection to minimize his casualties. Unfortunately, like the previous times, nothing made itself known to him. He simply didn't have the mass necessary to smash the enemy. Fortunately, the courier he had sent to the infantry detachment hadn't returned empty handed.
The Pole glanced to his side, taking a swig from his canteen, letting out a sigh of relief as he saw a regiment of line infantrymen marching up from La Brigue. He turned his head to the rest of his forces, spread out among the rocks. "First and second platoon, mount up and move to the objective once you see us push the enemy back. Third platoon, on my command, you will follow me into the lion's den!"
Rudolf and Fritz had cycled back to the next layer of the forest with a third of the Grenzers, taking a moment to share a canteen and account for casualties. As he took a swig from the canteen and glanced back towards the front, Fritz couldn't stop the spit-take that escaped him, pointing towards the French line approaching. "Rudolf-!" He managed to get out before a cloud of smoke rose above the line, sending a wave of hot lead slamming into their defenses.
Wood splinters and screams filled the air. A dozen of the Croats fell to the ground, blood staining their uniforms and the ground, only a few still groaning. The Grenzers returned sporadic fire as the French's first line kneeled and reloaded while the second took aim. At the same time, a rising roar rose from the rocky field ahead of them, the enemy dragoons leaping over sedimentary formations and charging their position. Rudolf's voice rose above the din. "Ruckzug! Fall back! Return to the clearing!"
Karol could feel the blood rushing through his body, could hear it in his ears as he led the way, guiding third platoon to the Grenzers' flank opposite that of the line infantry, who were beginning to advance. Just the mass he needed to overcome the enemy's topographical advantage. Indeed, he could see maroon tunics retreating further into the forest. As he reached the shade of the trees, the dragoon rallied his men, and considered waiting for the line infantry to reach this position… "Once an enemy has been broken, we have to stay right on top of him. We can't wait."
Karol's men moved in an eclectic mix of carbines and unsheathed sabers, one man wielding each essentially connected at the hip as they swiftly marched through the brush. They could hear shouting ahead of them. As soon as they caught sight of a clearing through the trees, the shouting dissipated…
Karol's amber eyes narrowed as he held up a hand for the others to halt. He knew an ambush when he saw one. He gestured towards the men to his right to hold their position, then began moving around the left side of the clearing, saber in hand, trusting the rest to follow his lead… Rather than wait for the Poles to walk into his trap, his opponent chose to launch it as best he could.
"TÖDTEN SIE ALLES!" Suddenly, at his rear detachment, a roar erupts as muskets and carbines discharge and the clash of metal resounds through the wood. Just as Karol turns to react, a score of his own detachment was mowed down by fire from across the clearing. Immediately, he understood what had happened: the Grenzers had set up both a conventional ambush and had a detachment climb the trees on his side of the clearing. Likely, they had intended to open fire as soon as they rushed into the middle of the clearing, putting the dragoons in enfilade fire. Now they had to do things the hard way.
Rudolf fell upon his target like lightning, his blade sinking into the sabre-weilding dragoon's shoulder. He withdrew it from their flesh as he leaped to the next man, unsheathing the sabre briquet at his hip in a reverse grip, and plunged it into the side of a Pole's spine just as they were whirling to face him. Around the Major, dragoons were gunned down from above, before Grenzers descended from the treetops, bayonets fixed. Surprised, but hemmed in as they were, the dragoons rallied with a cry and slammed into the light infantry as they clambered or hopped down from the boughs.
Suddenly, he heard Latin chanting behind him. Rudolf whirled around to face the out of place prayer, old lessons of the ancient language giving him insight. The enemy commander he had failed to eliminate was emerging from the brush, the sound of carbines echoing out from behind him, presumably preventing an uncontested crossing from Fritz's detachment. The Pole was a great brute of a man, carbine in hand as his amber gaze swept across the field. "DEVISE YOUR STRATEGY BUT IT WILL BE THWARTED-" He raised his weapon and fired into a tangle of men, shifting the skirmish from three against four to an even battle. He tossed aside his carbine and unsheathed his sabre as he sighted Rudolf, and began to approach. "PROPOSE YOUR PLAN, BUT IT WILL BE NOT STAND, FOR GOD IS WITH US!"
The Prussian's eye narrowed, understanding the challenge, before adopting the low ward, his sword hilt at his hip and blade oriented upward, with his sabre briquet acting as a parrying dagger above his clavicle and oriented towards the Pole. Then he was bowled over by a pair of wrestling combatants while the Pole found himself set upon by an intervening Grenzer.
Rudolf rolled away, leaving his sabre briquet on the ground, before he was stuck under the two quarreling men. As he rose into a guarded crouch, he noted that the enemy engaging his soldier was wearing blue, not the dragoons' green. At the same time, he heard a line trumpet… Sounding the attack. He didn't need to look up to understand that the dragoons' reinforcements had arrived. "Withdraw! Fly, you fools!" He shouted, stabbing the Frenchman in the side and helping the Grenzer back to his feet.
The Croat nodded in appreciation, before blood fountained from his mouth as a ball slammed into his back. Rudolf weaved behind a tree trunk, more rounds slamming into the bark, before he disappeared. He wouldn't be able to hold back an entire regiment just to be able to be the last one to retreat, as much as he would like to.
As more than three times their number streamed into the clearing, the Grenzers that had been in the melee threw down their weapons and surrendered, too fatigued from battle to be able to run off. Fritz noticed the tide of battle and began to withdraw with his detachment, picking up Rudolf and a few light infantrymen who had managed to escape the enemy line.
The Croats and their officers managed to escape, flanking around their pursuers and leaving the way their enemy had come, as they knew the northern pass would now be defended by the other half of the dragoons. Such a force could not afford to spend manpower holding an entryway that had already served its purpose. Karol collected the wounded and dead of both sides and returned them to La Brigue for sorting and burial.
With that, the fate of the coalition forces of Saorgio was sealed. General Michaelangelo Colli managed to escape before the dragoons completed their encirclement, but the majority of his troops had been trapped. Napoleon's plan was a success, paving the way for future domination of the Italian front.
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I made something to commemorate the quest's revival. I had originally intended for Karol and Rudolf to come to more conclusive blows, but this monstrosity was already inching closer to 7k words and a week of writing. I figured I was already pushing it. x_x It'll probably be the last you see of Karol, Fritz, and Rudolf for a while though, as I'll be heading to basic training within the month.
[]You will allow it: You need all the help you can get.
Must. Collect. Companions. She's already coming along, right? Besides, there are boys a year her junior being made midshipmen and regimental musicians.
[]Adam Serre: Fuckin' snip.
In what world do you not acquire this absolute chad?
Church And State
Hauptmann Peiper checked his ensemble in the small vanity mirror that rested on his desk. Boots shined, trousers bloused, collar… There we go, popped open just so. It felt good to look this damn good in the brilliant white of an Austrian officer. The lips that latched on to the side of his neck from behind came at a very close second, however.
"Oh, behave yourself." Fritz chuckled, allowing a nonetheless pleased hum to escape him. Gefreiter* Mueller impishly grinned as he gave his charge an appreciative squeeze, before offering Peiper his gloves. "Don't believe me when I say you look presentable, sir?"
"Ha. Don't fret, I believe you, this is just for my own amusement." The adjutant retorted, meandering over to exit the tent as he pulled on his gloves. "Did you receive any word about the Prussian wandering about before you roused me?" Muller's smirk didn't dissipate as he shrugged.
"None of my friends have so much as heard a peep out of his tent, much less seen him skulking about. Why? Trying to replace me with someone closer to your station?" There was no rancor in the question, though the tilt in his head suggested curiosity. Fritz scoffed at the notion, surprising his aide. "Him? Right. Straight-laced and sullen, as if he would be one of us, much less someone I would be interested in that capacity." With that, the Hauptmann took another moment to confirm that he was decent and that there was no indication of his frolicking about with his subordinate, before pushing aside the tent flap and taking his leave.
The tension could be cut with a knife. As the combined forces of the Austrians and Piedmontese marched together, the latter's suspicion of the former only increased, especially when De Vins recovered enough from his gout to visit their officers and inspect their troops, before the disease relapsed and he had to recover behind the main body of the army. He was mildly caustic at the best of times, and rumors of a lack of coordination between himself and the Piedmontese commander, Michelangelo Colli, spread like a pestilence through the camp. Some within the Austrian command believed the Piedmontese to be ill-disciplined and churlish to the point that they expected the very worst of them, while the rank-and-file among the Italians believed that the Austrians intended on betraying them. Even now, as Fritz wandered between the divide, he could see the blue-coated Piedmontese troops glaring at him with suspicion and disgust from their camp fires, huddled together on the unseasonably chilly, overcast day.
Mercifully, Fritz made it to Rudolf's tent without incident, quite rudely entering without announcing himself. "Good morning, good morning, good morning, it's time to rise and shine!~" He called out in a grating sing-song fashion as he infiltrated Prussian ground. Despite it being noon, he found Rudolf still asleep… For what it was worth. He tossed and turned, his blanket sweated through, mumbling gibberish and eyes rolling behind their lids. The wind very much taken out of his sails, Fritz leaned back slightly, one eye narrowed and discomfort all over his face. Despite this, they still had a day ahead of them…
"Er, heh, herr Fuchs?" No answer. "Verdammt, must be a helluva dream." Fritz noted privately as he approached. "Herr Fuchs, you need to-" He placed his hands on Rudolf's shoulders in an attempt to rouse him.
He was quite successful, though he didn't get a chance to shake the Prussian awake, before Rudolf's eyes opened, bloodshot and wide. He shouted in a wild, high-pitched mix of rage and fear as he wrapped his hands around the throat of the silhouette he had been confronted with, exploding from his cot and bringing them both to the ground. "Halt, Maj-! Argh!" The silhouette yelped as he hit Rudolf's desk on the way down, knocking over his inkwell.
To his credit, Fritz brought his fists down on the inside of Rudolf's elbows before he could lock out his grip and put pressure on his jugular vein and carotid artery, then delivered a headbutt to the Major and forced him back with a kick to the chest. "It's Peiper, you maniac!"
The sense knocked into him, Rudolf pushed himself up into a seated position, panting and squinting, unsure if this was the real life or just fantasy. What light was streaming through the cloth of the tent revealed the white fabric of Fritz's uniform, and that was that. The young Major fell onto his back and covered his face with a mix of a sigh and a groan. "I… Am sorry, Hauptmann."
"Well, you should be! See if I don't send a grenadier to rouse you next time! Besides, it's noon, you should have been up before the crack of dawn, running three kilometers or whatever it is you do." Fritz chided as he clambered onto his feet, moving over to help Rudolf up.
As he ascended, the Prussian kept a hand over his empty eye socket. "Would you… Happen to have seen my patch?" He asked quietly, clearly embarrassed. The Austrian allowed a sigh to escape him. "Let me look. I believe I glimpsed it by the cand-."
Fritz turned back to the desk, reaching down to the eye patch before stopping himself as he noticed something. Was that… Ink? "No." He denied, terror in his voice, before he rapidly made his escape.
"Peiper?" Fuchs asked, hastily putting on his undershirt without buttoning it as he followed. He found Fritz glaring down at his chest in the pale sunlight with abject disgust and horror, a sizable blot of ink staining his formerly bright white jacket. After a moment, Fritz turned his baleful gaze on Rudolf. The Prussian, not quite understanding what the big deal was, blinked owlishly. Then Fritz started screaming at him. No words, just emotionally pained screams.
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"... On the Artillery Command of the Austrian Royal Army of Italy and Piedmont.
Artillery Regiment "Innsbruck" Nr. 34 is a horse-drawn 12-pounder cannon unit primarily consisting of Croats. Despite the unit's relatively exclusive use of horses in comparison to the rest of the army, they are representative of the experience and training of the rest of the Austrian force.
Nr. 34 participates in battalion-wide training exercises in the morning and afternoon when the army or their detachment is expected to be stationary. The morning exercises generally consist in rapidly limbering and unlimbering the cannon and supply of powder and shot (stored in a magazine box) from the horses, as well as general physical conditioning and rapid mounting and dismounting, both of which are organized into competitions with randomized rewards for the winning crews and additional physical training for the losers. Each crew consists of six men, including one officer and two gunners.
Nr. 34's afternoon exercises consist of loading and live-fire practice, though the latter is a shortened process in an effort to conserve ammunition and powder. The exercise begins with the crew dismounting their horses and once again practicing unlimbering the guns and magazine, but only once. Upon deploying, the crews would fire upon range markers set up by the battalion's officers prior to the exercise.
The right gunner was to prime the piece and load it with powder, while the left gunner would fetch the powder from the magazine and keep ready to fire the cannon at the officer's command. Three soldiers stood on each side of the cannon, to ram and sponge the cannon, and hold the ladle. The second soldier on the left was charged with providing 50 rounds from the magazine.
Prior to loading, the cannon would be well cleaned with a sponge to remove all sparks, filth, and dirt. This is to prevent overheating the gun and causing a catastrophic reaction within the cannon. The powder was added, followed by a wad of hay, and the ball was thrown in.
I attempted to converse with the crewmen through a translator, but the abilities of my translator were limited and their commanding officer suspicious despite my official capacity as an observer."
Rudolf gains +1 to Artillery Command for observing a well-trained cannon crew in action. Someone is probably going to make him the butt of a joke when he turns in this section of his observation reports, however. Gotta start somewhere.
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"You cannot be serious." Rudolf was incredulous. Honestly, he should be offended. Why would Fritz ever even think of making this proposition to him? Who did he think he was?
"You know, an animal's most important survival instinct is to complain. But I didn't take you to be so obnoxious! Besides, I'm only asking you to accompany myself, this lady, and her handmaid." Fritz shook his head in mild disbelief, but amusement colored his features.
"I utterly fail to see how your romantic ventures are any of my business. In case you haven't noticed, we aren't friends." Rudolf sourly stated as his eyes wandered the streets of Torino. Evening was fast approaching, and he could tell from the manner the common folk walked, night was not a good time to be out on the streets.
Totally nonplussed, Fritz continued meandering along quite happily. "Right, not friends. It's not as if I haven't been the one answering all your questions, translating for you, introducing you to some of the command staff, introducing you to my other friends, and-." "Silence."
Fritz allowed a laugh to escape him, not noticing the pre-teen walking directly towards him before the would-be thief was warded off by an icy glare from Rudolf. "Well, I will admit, I am on the way to gather some winnings I made off a bet at cards in one of the local games. It's where I met Lady Setara, actually. Her companion was downright droll-."
Rudolf zoned out, recognizing that Fritz was about to launch into a lengthy dialogue. He generally didn't notice when the Prussian stopped listening. Honestly, it was impressive that Fritz kept it up for the fifteen minutes it took for the men to arrive at a cafe overlooking the Po river. It was a cream-colored structure, tastefully accessorized with foliage along the walls perpendicular to the entrance and along the balcony. Unfortunately, Rudolf couldn't see the name of the establishment as a result, but he reckoned he wouldn't be back anyways.
"Ah, there she is, on the balcony. How's your Italian?" Rudolf noticed a blond, pale-skinned woman wearing a tailored dark green dress waving at them from the balcony. After gaining entry by invoking Lady Setara's name as members of her party, they ascended the stairs, promptly coming face to face with the lady and her attendant. Lady Setara was almost as animated as Fritz, eyes widening in delight as she gestured for the officers to approach from her seat. "Ah, Peiper, it's so good to see you again! Is this a comrade of yours? Why, isn't he an interesting looking fellow, Sabina?" She spoke quickly, a hint of Venetian in her accent.
Rudolf didn't hear her, or Fritz's response as he locked eyes with the mocha-colored woman sitting at Lady Setara's side. Sabina was shorter than her mistress, black curls framing her soft face and stormy grey eyes. Surprisingly, she was clad in a plain black dress, contrasted by her mistress's comparatively festive clothing. She stared back at Rudolf, keeping Lady Setara in suspense for a moment before responding. "Yes, mistress. Very interesting." She affirmed with a carefully neutral tone, a Sicilian lilt in her words.
Fritz nudged Rudolf, drawing his gaze and arching his brow. "Well, don't be rude, my friend, introduce yourself." The Prussian nodded, cleared his throat, before doffing his shako and bowing stiffly. "Major Rudolf Alexander Sebastian Fuchs. A pleasure." As he straightened, Fritz smiled impishly. "I knew you could be charming."
"Oh, a Major? That's quite high, is it not? Oh, sit, sit! I paid for the table, after all!" Lady Setara waved her hand at the seats on the other side of the table from herself and Sabina. Fritz took his own shako off as the men seated themselves, taking in the sight of the Po river as the sun approached the horizon. Rudolf answered for him. "It is the immediate superior to a Captain, but between the fact I have no command and I am not a member of the Austrian army, I have no authority over Hauptmann Peiper. In fact, he has more authority over me, considering it's as much his job to chaperone me as it is to shoo me away from sensitive matters."
"He makes it sound more influential than it is. If it was, I certainly would've done more than have words when he spilled-." The meeting primarily consisted of Fritz and Lady Setara animatedly conversing with an occasional interjection or answer from Rudolf or Sabina, ordering food and refreshments, and observing the sunset.
Rudolf felt an itch that couldn't be scratched in his skin as he awkwardly shifted in his seat. He felt out of place. They weren't the only people on the balcony, couples and groups lively conversing and consuming. Didn't they know a war was on? That any day, the French could cross the hills with all the ferocity of Hannibal? And these two songbirds… He hardly had anything worth talking about in polite company. The most he could do is answer the occasional question about Prussia and what he did as an officer in its military, which regiment he once belonged to, oh, how interesting, our cousin was a line officer. The itch only intensified when the inevitable question came.
"Have you seen battle?" Lady Setara asked. Fritz chuckled heartily as he adjusted his collar, the wine warming his belly and cheeks. "Well, I must admit, this is my first war. But I have had some brutal boxing partners, a couple duels but those were just to first blood." The group's expectant gazes fell upon Rudolf like a spotlight on an escaping prisoner. He had abstained from the wine over the course of the meal, but now felt compelled to take a swig, grabbing the bottle and pouring its contents into his empty glass. His jaw set, fingers now tapping at the table.
Rudolf considered just not answering the question, before glancing towards Fritz and noting his questioning stare, before relenting. "I was at Valmy. Our regiment was the only one to make contact with the French before Von Brunswick ordered a withdrawal." Fritz finally realized the dangerous ground he was treading and quietly returned to his drink. Lady Setara had no such compulsions. "How many Frenchmen did you kill? It must have been so terribly exciting."
She was just ignorant. She didn't mean any harm, really. She couldn't know any better. Rudolf's heart was hammering with… Something. Rage? Frustration? His grip on his glass tightened, before he pressed it's base against the table as he realized what he was doing. "A few. That's all I will say about the matter." He tried not to growl the words out.
Lady Setara didn't seem put out by Rudolf shutting down that part of the conversation. "As you wish! By the by, Hauptmann, how did you pull off that trick in the game?" Fritz smiled, diffusing the tension, before answering. He placed his knee next to Rudolf's seeking to comfort the Prussian.
The Major glanced towards him, before a sensation at the side of the tip of his ring finger brought his attention back to Sabina. Those grey eyes met his icy blue orb, just long enough to hold his attention, to salve the burning in his chest, before the attendant's gaze slid over to her mistress, her hand close enough to maintain physical contact with Rudolf's while giving her enough room to claim it was an accident if the matter was brought up. Rudolf glanced at Sabina's black dress once again, before taking a fortifying breath and returning to the conversation.
The rendezvous continued and ended without further incident. Sabina was dispatched to fetch Lady Setara's carriage, prompting Rudolf to volunteer to accompany her, as the driver was awaiting the ladies a few streets over… As he suspected, honest folk had already returned to their homes, the only people being the desperate, the damned, and guarded aristocrats. Interestingly, the ruffians of the street paid no mind to the duo.
"May I ask you a question?" Rudolf inquired as he observed a gaggle of men playing Liar's Dice in a nearby alley. Sabina hummed assent. "Are you in mourning?" He noted that she seemed more surprised than upset by the question, though she quickly arrested the ascent of her brow and returned to a disciplined and stony expression. "Yes. My husband. Two years ago." A moment of silence… "He was a Freemason?" Another moment of silence, heavy with hesitation. The pro-Republican Freemasons of southern Italy had attempted to gather their strength in 1792, but were discovered, and sent to the gallows. "Yes…" Rudolf allowed an intrigued hum to escape him. "He died well."
Rudolf hitched a ride on the carriage back with Sabina, then disembarked and held the door for Lady Setara as Fritz assisted her into the vehicle. Sabina quickly handed a piece of paper to Rudolf, in plain sight, by necessity. One could hear Lady Setara squealing in excitement as the carriage drove off. "Uh… What was that all about?" Fritz asked Rudolf as the two began to make their way back through town. Rudolf just looked at the hastily scrawled mailing address and the name above it: Sabina Pasquarella.
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Fritz had gotten his winnings easily enough. There was hemming and hawing and other miscellaneous whining from the losing betters, but that was the nature of the game. Rudolf didn't have to so much as say a word, to Fritz's delight.
But the five thugs that left the gambling hall immediately after the officers weren't hard to spot. "Peiper." Rudolf called, a sharp edge to the utterance. "Major, you know I'm only joking. I'm really quite happy for you, you're always so tense. A woman would-." The Prussian pressed his shoulder into Fritz's, steadily pushing him into an alley, quietly urging him along. "Shut the fuck up and go right."
As the thugs entered the alley, they found Fritz hunched over, hand against the wall, as he dry-heaved. "Where'd the other one go?" One asked as they casually approached the easy, drunken prey. "Probably left him, didn't want to deal with his drunk arse anymore." The rearward most layabout answered as the group passed a slightly ajar door, the smell of baking bread wafting through.
The first grabbed Fritz by the back of his shirt, shoving him towards the wall. "Alright, you inbred bastard, where's the money?" The Austrian burped in the thug's face. "It's, ah, up your arse and to the left." Before the thug could rearrange his prospective victim's face, he turned at the sound of a dropping weight.
Rudolf had used the bakery as a hiding place, naked blade dissuading the proprietor from making a stink. The signal of Fritz belching told him that the time was right and that the thugs had taken the bait. He quietly opened the door, disguised his bootfalls among those of the still-moving thugs, and managed to puncture the spine of the rearward most fellow with his infantry saber. He had already cut open the next's skull by the time they realized they were under attack. The third began to back-pedal, desperately reaching for a knife at his belt, before the Prussian punctured his hand, then his stomach, and kicked him off his sword, sending the man onto his back with a wail of pain.
The thug that had grabbed Fritz had his attention returned to the Austrian when the very sober man brought his fists down on his elbows and delivered a headbutt, breaking the thug's nose and causing him to relinquish his grip. Before he could respond, Fritz delivered a picture-perfect upper cut to the ruffian's chin, catching the nerve that resided there and sending him stumbling back, unconscious before he hit the stone ground.
Considering the great change in fortune that had occurred to his motley crew, the final thug turned and made his escape, uncontested by the officers… Who knew betting money was worth three lives?
Rudolf gains +1 to Subterfuge for observing the nature of street thugs, countering them, and the process of blackmail and coercion in acquiring rightfully earned betting money. Maybe not so much should be used, if it's going to cause thugs to be hired and utilized in the first place.
One wonders if the tactics of street gangs could be applied to men on the field, especially light infantry.
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They met at Saorgio. It had been months since they had marched into Italy to check the French advance. Both armies understood that a loss in hemmed-in ground such as the mountainous terrain of Piedmont could end with total destruction. Both were cautious, seeking to find an unassailable position or a path that could lead to the entirety of one against mere detachments of the other at a time.
Napoleon masterminded an opportunity to give the French strength while chipping away at the coalition's forces without forcing a pitched battle, dispatching detachments east, into the neutral Republic of Genoa, taking coastal settlements and threatening Piedmont itself from the south. Meanwhile, the coalition stubbornly fortified and held the settlement of Saorgio and the mountains that stretched to either side of it…
That is to say, De Vins stubbornly held his forces in the same position. Colli had handled the specific deployment of holdouts and regiments, but neither he nor his subordinates were able to move the Austrian commander to create rally points or to extend the line further east to better protect Piedmont, principally the town of Briga Alta. Naturally, Italian morale was at an all-time low.
Rudolf could see it in the way they carried themselves. The slip in discipline, the way soldiers shuffled rather than marched, the increase in intoxicated men in the camp… They knew their training, their determination, and their oaths were being wasted. As they held their positions, the French threatened the independence of their nation elsewhere and made a mockery of them. It was no wonder that their distrust of the Austrians, even him, an unrelated officer, had increased. Their opportunity to fight and die for their nation in a meaningful manner was passing them by.
Rudolf wasn't surprised when reports of a major defeat facilitated by concentrated artillery fire in the center of their line, at Saorgio, streamed into La Brigue*. He was surprised by the sight of French cavalry with a support column of infantry rapidly approaching the settlement, sending the coalition command staff into a whirl of activity, securing sensitive documents and helping the commanders to escape…
But the enemy cavalry consisted primarily of dragoons. They didn't intend on taking the town; they intended on using the nearby mountain pass to block the coalition's retreat. They had to be delayed.
Fritz looked up from where he was stuffing documents into a satchel, noticing Rudolf marching up to General Michealangelo Colli before the Austrian-turned-Piedmontese officer could escape, catching him at the door with his bodyguards. "Herr General." The Prussian greeted, saluting. Colli returned the salute. "Major?"
Rudolf lowered his hand. "Sir. The enemy cavalry consists of mounted infantry. If I were their commander, I would not spend their lives assaulting a defensive position such as this town, but the northern mountain pass our forces will have to withdraw through in order to make it back to Piedmont in good order." Colli lowered his gaze, taking a moment to think before nodding. "I had considered this. We can't hold them."
Rudolf nodded in turn. "We can't stop them, but we can delay them. There is a patch of forest along the basin wall. I can hold it with Grenzers*. Elements of the Karlstadt regiment are already here." Colli blinked, expression carefully neutral. "I will… Consider the matter with one of their offic-." "I will take command, Herr General. It is my proposal."
Colli closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose as he considered. "I cannot ask you to. To risk your life for Piedmont or Austria." "You do not have to ask. Allow me to take a company, and I shall."
Fritz suddenly materialized at his side. "I will go with him, sir. I can translate for him." Colli's jaw set, his gaze sweeping from one, to the other, then back. The Prussian's remaining eye glared back at him with a determination that told him that, if necessary, he would fight to the last man for that ground. It was the apprehension in the Austrian's that told him that they could be trusted not to waste the lives of the Grenzers. "Very well. Discharge your duty. Do no more."
The Croats had lost their company commander at Saorgio. They had been glad to be rid of him, steadfast in his refusal to pull them out of an unwinnable battle as he was. Their guts told them this Prussian would be no better, but orders were orders.
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The ground was rocky and uneven, so much so that some formations could hide a handful of men. Kapitan Karol Wlodzislaw kept his wing in a loose wedge formation to give his troopers room to maneuver, which restricted their speed to a mere canter rather than the gallop he would prefer.
It was an acceptable trade-off. The infantry that had accompanied the Polish dragoons had already broken off to take La Brigue itself, which would threaten the enemy forces retreating from Saorgio… And give his company breathing room to complete the cordon at the mountain pass, trapping the coalition, just as Napoleon had planned. He would be damned if he failed to bring his benefactor's plan to complete fruition. Some had already escaped, but that had been within the Corsican's planned perimeters.
"Kapitan, I think I see something in the forest ahead!" One of his troopers called out, pointing towards the tree line to their north-east. He saw flashes of maroon jackets and bright blue trousers moving between the tree trunks. Austrian Grenzers? Well, he could send a detachment to suppress them from the rocks to their right while the rest of the company moved on to complete the obj-.
The trooper that had made the call out suddenly reared back in the seat of his saddle, blood spurting out of the back of his head as he tumbled off. A chorus of screaming horses followed a wave of fire and thunder on the formation's right. An ambush, and a decent number of enemy combatants on top of that… They would have to be dealt with.
"FIRST PLATOON, WHEEL RIGHT!" Karol roared, pulling back on the reins of his horse and unsheathing his blade, pointing it towards the craggy ground they had been ambushed from. He could already see the Grenzers who had ambushed them making their withdrawal. He could see a man in dark blue accompanying them, musket in hand, clad in an officer's regalia. Some sort of replacement for a previous commander? … It didn't matter.
"COMPANY, DISMOUNT BEHIND THE R-!" Something hot whizzed past his head, close enough to singe the side of his mustache as he turned his head. Karol's amber gaze returned to where it had come from. The Prussian had taken a shot at him, the enemy officer hopping down from the rock he had used as a vantage point, handing his discharged musket to another Grenzer before they continued withdrawing.
Karol cantered after second and third platoons as they found dips in the ground or formations of rocks they could safely conceal their mounts, watching first platoon's pursuit of the Grenzers. The light infantrymen were withdrawing in a column, the Prussian officer bringing up the rear. There was only one platoon of them rushing to safety in the open, more than easy prey for an equal number of cavalrymen. But they were drawing too close to the woodline. "Kurwa." Karol cursed as he spurred his horse onward.
"Keep moving! They're going to be right on us!" Rudolf urged the Croats onward. Most of them didn't understand German, but his intent was clear, as well as Fritz's translation when he distributed his plan among their NCOs and junior officers.
The Prussian Major inwardly cursed himself. He had been hoping to reveal the enemy commander (owing to the enemy regiment's uniform being solid green with little variation) and neutralize him, but he had missed. It was a long shot, and now wasn't the time to dwell on it, especially as the sound of approaching hooves grew louder, quickly joined by the shouts of charging men. "Come on, come on, come on…"
"Otvorena vatra!*" He heard Fritz's voice just a moment before forty muskets sang, sending musket balls sailing to either side of the Grenzers' withdrawing column. Rudolf slowed down enough to check the results… Which spoke for themselves. Half of the enemy platoon had been mowed down, taken off of horseback or collapsing with their mounts. The other half vacillated, before Polish behind the dragoons caught their attention, and they broke off their pursuit.
Rudolf allowed a smile to spread across his features and a triumphant shout to escape him, causing some of the Croats ahead of him to look back and let out a cheer. He was starting to develop a soft spot for skirmishers.
They made it back to the woodline just in time, as the enemy dragoons who had dismounted took up positions in the rocky field and began to open fire. Rudolf let out a whoop as he dived behind some overgrown tree roots, the curious whizzing sound of a round passing nearby ringing in his ears. A hand reached down and grabbed Rudolf by the collar of his uniform, dragging him back behind the tree itself.
"That put some caution in their step, Fuchs!" Fritz laughed, before wincing as balls slammed into the other side of the trunk. Rudolf pushed himself into a crouch beside his guide, beginning the lengthy process of reloading his borrowed musket. "Tell the men to stand their ground! We need to hold out for as long as possible!"
They spent an hour exchanging fire with the dragoons. When the engagement lulled into an occasional shot or two at a time, one could hear gunfire echoing from La Brigue itself. Rudolf didn't have any clue about how many men Colli left to hold the town, or even if he was trying to rally the retreating coalition forces to create a steady stream of reinforcements to the garrison… He doubted the latter. No support was forthcoming to the Grenzers… That was fine. They were suffering light casualties in the skirmish, but this was their job, and they were doing it well.
Karol was consulting his map for the umpteenth time, trying to discern if there was any way he could circumvent this position or at least flank the enemy set up inside its protection to minimize his casualties. Unfortunately, like the previous times, nothing made itself known to him. He simply didn't have the mass necessary to smash the enemy. Fortunately, the courier he had sent to the infantry detachment hadn't returned empty handed.
The Pole glanced to his side, taking a swig from his canteen, letting out a sigh of relief as he saw a regiment of line infantrymen marching up from La Brigue. He turned his head to the rest of his forces, spread out among the rocks. "First and second platoon, mount up and move to the objective once you see us push the enemy back. Third platoon, on my command, you will follow me into the lion's den!"
Rudolf and Fritz had cycled back to the next layer of the forest with a third of the Grenzers, taking a moment to share a canteen and account for casualties. As he took a swig from the canteen and glanced back towards the front, Fritz couldn't stop the spit-take that escaped him, pointing towards the French line approaching. "Rudolf-!" He managed to get out before a cloud of smoke rose above the line, sending a wave of hot lead slamming into their defenses.
Wood splinters and screams filled the air. A dozen of the Croats fell to the ground, blood staining their uniforms and the ground, only a few still groaning. The Grenzers returned sporadic fire as the French's first line kneeled and reloaded while the second took aim. At the same time, a rising roar rose from the rocky field ahead of them, the enemy dragoons leaping over sedimentary formations and charging their position. Rudolf's voice rose above the din. "Ruckzug! Fall back! Return to the clearing!"
Karol could feel the blood rushing through his body, could hear it in his ears as he led the way, guiding third platoon to the Grenzers' flank opposite that of the line infantry, who were beginning to advance. Just the mass he needed to overcome the enemy's topographical advantage. Indeed, he could see maroon tunics retreating further into the forest. As he reached the shade of the trees, the dragoon rallied his men, and considered waiting for the line infantry to reach this position… "Once an enemy has been broken, we have to stay right on top of him. We can't wait."
Karol's men moved in an eclectic mix of carbines and unsheathed sabers, one man wielding each essentially connected at the hip as they swiftly marched through the brush. They could hear shouting ahead of them. As soon as they caught sight of a clearing through the trees, the shouting dissipated…
Karol's amber eyes narrowed as he held up a hand for the others to halt. He knew an ambush when he saw one. He gestured towards the men to his right to hold their position, then began moving around the left side of the clearing, saber in hand, trusting the rest to follow his lead… Rather than wait for the Poles to walk into his trap, his opponent chose to launch it as best he could.
"TÖDTEN SIE ALLES!" Suddenly, at his rear detachment, a roar erupts as muskets and carbines discharge and the clash of metal resounds through the wood. Just as Karol turns to react, a score of his own detachment was mowed down by fire from across the clearing. Immediately, he understood what had happened: the Grenzers had set up both a conventional ambush and had a detachment climb the trees on his side of the clearing. Likely, they had intended to open fire as soon as they rushed into the middle of the clearing, putting the dragoons in enfilade fire. Now they had to do things the hard way.
Rudolf fell upon his target like lightning, his blade sinking into the sabre-weilding dragoon's shoulder. He withdrew it from their flesh as he leaped to the next man, unsheathing the sabre briquet at his hip in a reverse grip, and plunged it into the side of a Pole's spine just as they were whirling to face him. Around the Major, dragoons were gunned down from above, before Grenzers descended from the treetops, bayonets fixed. Surprised, but hemmed in as they were, the dragoons rallied with a cry and slammed into the light infantry as they clambered or hopped down from the boughs.
Suddenly, he heard Latin chanting behind him. Rudolf whirled around to face the out of place prayer, old lessons of the ancient language giving him insight. The enemy commander he had failed to eliminate was emerging from the brush, the sound of carbines echoing out from behind him, presumably preventing an uncontested crossing from Fritz's detachment. The Pole was a great brute of a man, carbine in hand as his amber gaze swept across the field. "DEVISE YOUR STRATEGY BUT IT WILL BE THWARTED-" He raised his weapon and fired into a tangle of men, shifting the skirmish from three against four to an even battle. He tossed aside his carbine and unsheathed his sabre as he sighted Rudolf, and began to approach. "PROPOSE YOUR PLAN, BUT IT WILL BE NOT STAND, FOR GOD IS WITH US!"
The Prussian's eye narrowed, understanding the challenge, before adopting the low ward, his sword hilt at his hip and blade oriented upward, with his sabre briquet acting as a parrying dagger above his clavicle and oriented towards the Pole. Then he was bowled over by a pair of wrestling combatants while the Pole found himself set upon by an intervening Grenzer.
Rudolf rolled away, leaving his sabre briquet on the ground, before he was stuck under the two quarreling men. As he rose into a guarded crouch, he noted that the enemy engaging his soldier was wearing blue, not the dragoons' green. At the same time, he heard a line trumpet… Sounding the attack. He didn't need to look up to understand that the dragoons' reinforcements had arrived. "Withdraw! Fly, you fools!" He shouted, stabbing the Frenchman in the side and helping the Grenzer back to his feet.
The Croat nodded in appreciation, before blood fountained from his mouth as a ball slammed into his back. Rudolf weaved behind a tree trunk, more rounds slamming into the bark, before he disappeared. He wouldn't be able to hold back an entire regiment just to be able to be the last one to retreat, as much as he would like to.
As more than three times their number streamed into the clearing, the Grenzers that had been in the melee threw down their weapons and surrendered, too fatigued from battle to be able to run off. Fritz noticed the tide of battle and began to withdraw with his detachment, picking up Rudolf and a few light infantrymen who had managed to escape the enemy line.
The Croats and their officers managed to escape, flanking around their pursuers and leaving the way their enemy had come, as they knew the northern pass would now be defended by the other half of the dragoons. Such a force could not afford to spend manpower holding an entryway that had already served its purpose. Karol collected the wounded and dead of both sides and returned them to La Brigue for sorting and burial.
With that, the fate of the coalition forces of Saorgio was sealed. General Michaelangelo Colli managed to escape before the dragoons completed their encirclement, but the majority of his troops had been trapped. Napoleon's plan was a success, paving the way for future domination of the Italian front.
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I made something to commemorate the quest's revival. I had originally intended for Karol and Rudolf to come to more conclusive blows, but this monstrosity was already inching closer to 7k words and a week of writing. I figured I was already pushing it. x_x It'll probably be the last you see of Karol, Fritz, and Rudolf for a while though, as I'll be heading to basic training within the month.
- Gefreiter - Something like a Lance Corporal. However, by the time of WWI, the Imperial German Army had left this position closer to how the Specialist works in the US Army: someone who has deep experience in their occupational specialty and able to lead in a pinch, but generally not meant to be promoted or given permanent leadership responsibilities.
- La Brigue - A town north of Saorgio. The French did capture it by circumventing the Saorgio line, but they did so three days after the battle of Saorgio. In other words, OTL coalition forces actually managed to escape in decent condition, but Napoleon rolled super high and De Vins rolled super low in this timeline, so this omake happened.
- Grenzers - Light infantry from the Military Frontiers bordering the Ottoman Empire. They wear maroon jackets with orange collars/cuffs and cyan blue trousers. The Karlstadt regiment originates from Croatia, but there are also Serbian, Bosnian, and Romanian units.
- "Open fire!" in Croatian.
[]You will allow it: You need all the help you can get.
Must. Collect. Companions. She's already coming along, right? Besides, there are boys a year her junior being made midshipmen and regimental musicians.
[]Adam Serre: Fuckin' snip.
In what world do you not acquire this absolute chad?
- Location
- UTC+0
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They
Nicee! This will certainly come in handy, glad we picked him, we'll certainly need his skills in Egypt.
- Location
- Hell
In a world where we need as much experience and knowledge of the Mediterranean as we can get and less political fire
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Alright, off the top of my head, we probably want Berthier. We don't really need brilliant tacticians for this campaign- what we need is to not run out of food because some idiot decided to send us on a wild goose chase. With that in mind, the guy who potentially could've been the minister of war seems like a perfect fit.
And come on! Of course we have to take her on as our secretary! Can you imagine the propaganda power of that!? A former princess of France, working with one of the greatest heroes of the war for the good of the Republic!
And come on! Of course we have to take her on as our secretary! Can you imagine the propaganda power of that!? A former princess of France, working with one of the greatest heroes of the war for the good of the Republic!
Temes1066
To Defy Gravity you must Let It Go
- Location
- Coleraine
If anyone is looking for guide lines on the army origination, I have found a Wikipedia article on the Order of Battle for Napoleon's Egyptian Campaign.
I'd personally take Dumas because it's when push comes to shove having another likely friendly face around when the rest you have no real character witness for (or worse, were snubbed by our friends) is undeniably a useful thing. Charlotte is a no brainer imo,.
The real question is the Naval Attache - the traditionalist I think is actually the bait option, this is not going to be a traditional campaign by any stretch so having a naval attache willing to think outside the box actually might edge it out in value.
The real question is the Naval Attache - the traditionalist I think is actually the bait option, this is not going to be a traditional campaign by any stretch so having a naval attache willing to think outside the box actually might edge it out in value.
- Location
- USA
Fair point, but Thérèse has already been sent to the Napoleonic and career equivalent of Brazil. In other words, we've already crossed the line, so we might as well see where this train wreck goes!
Seriously speaking, a raider like Serre strikes me as the kind of guy you want when you're facing a superior navy. However, if the majority disagree with me, I'd argue that we take Hoche with us. Both options seem to be what the central government would appreciate we take.
- Location
- Hawaii
I'm in favor of making Charlotte or secretary, and would like Hoche, Dumas and Berthier, but I'm open if someone can convince me on Kleber.
As for divisional organization, it would be nice to front load it with our most elite troops, artillery, and all the cavalry, but it will make every casualty hurt all the more. So a solid core of our elites and veterans filled out with regulars. As for the nickname, we could play to the Firefighter reputation and go with Fire Brigade of France (lol at division called a brigade). We could go the other way and invoke Joan of Arc with something like La Pucelle, though that might have unfortunate implications, given her ultimate fate. A more neutral nickname might be related to locational names. Something to do with the Rhine to reference the army's origins, or Oriente or Egyptian to reference our posting.
Edit: would prefer Serre over Bruix for naval attache, given the circumstances of the campaign. We could potentially get along with Bruix over shared interest and skill in surveying, but he's got the whole superstition about women on ships. Serre is unconventional (like us) and has a proven record against the British from a disadvantage, but he might be a little to wild when it comes to tactics, especially if we go for a conservative approach.
As for divisional organization, it would be nice to front load it with our most elite troops, artillery, and all the cavalry, but it will make every casualty hurt all the more. So a solid core of our elites and veterans filled out with regulars. As for the nickname, we could play to the Firefighter reputation and go with Fire Brigade of France (lol at division called a brigade). We could go the other way and invoke Joan of Arc with something like La Pucelle, though that might have unfortunate implications, given her ultimate fate. A more neutral nickname might be related to locational names. Something to do with the Rhine to reference the army's origins, or Oriente or Egyptian to reference our posting.
Edit: would prefer Serre over Bruix for naval attache, given the circumstances of the campaign. We could potentially get along with Bruix over shared interest and skill in surveying, but he's got the whole superstition about women on ships. Serre is unconventional (like us) and has a proven record against the British from a disadvantage, but he might be a little to wild when it comes to tactics, especially if we go for a conservative approach.
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Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Obviously. The thing is, we've just got them... unit culture comes later.
I mean yes... but those boys weren't princesses of entire nations.
Also +10 to you sir, that was awesome!
A World where we aren't on a knifes edge.
That too.
Well he's also super good at the whole... well Chief of Staff thing.
And the propaganda if the Republic falls again and we're put to the sword?
We treated her like a commoner?
Even though she requested the job.
Amazing.
Well it's not your fault you don't have a character witness for any of the others like Dumas. They all served in different armies.
He worked with the Bro, and he's competent.
Well we could always make it work... and exceed expectations in independent command.
Cause Lord knows that Napoleon needs Independent Commanders who can operate without him.
Yeah, forcing the Misfits into a single Army that is expected to fail... that won't backfire at all.
BritishGrenadier
Summon The Elector Counts!
- Location
- Nova Scotia Halifax
the page's picture of napoleon riding a camel is funny to me
Adam Serre is needed in my opinion for the royal navy is to strong to beat directly we need someone who can outrun the English and get us and our troops in and out of that sandy hell hole named eygpt he will be also useful in blockade running them for we need a supply line in order to live since the locals will probably to kill us instead of handing out weapons
finally, we need to make sure we have a balanced size for our divisions to big and we cant be flexible too small and they will be killed via ambush also having all our arty pieces in one division would maybe allow us to grande batterie them
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- Pronouns
- She/Her
wellllll
if that happens, we're kinda screwed anyways
But the Republic will never fail! Vive la République!
What are they going to do, sew Therese's head back on so they can behead her a second time in the name of Royalty not holding day jobs?
If the Republic falls then it's time to go hide in America.
Max Uristwell
Custodian of the Toobs
- Location
- United Kingdom
I strongly suspect that, if the Republic falls again, such propaganda will be so far down the list of our priorities as to be irrelevant. Just a thought.
Besides, we rescued her and her brother from the abuses that the Republic indirectly sentenced them to, kept their education up, ensured that they were surrounded by an entire army of trusted troops and went out of our way to keep them out of situations where an 'accident' might befall the poor, defenceless, politically inconvenient little darlings. If that's not enough to make us 'one of the good ones' I don't know what is.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Huh, I didn't realize that our forces were that much bigger than what Napoleon came with. Considering the quality and number of our troops, we'll probably be way superior to any forces we might face in Egypt. It also means that we starve that much faster, though...
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Well lets see, Prussia is trying to get a peace with France after they lost multiple battles (two to us), Vendee got quelled via Napoleon's Grapeshot, Italy is falling faster than a house of cards in a windstorm, France is finally stabilizing and Britain is... perplexed that France is kicking their ass... in certain ways. and Spain decided to stay neutral because they would not win.
So France can spare men, officers and materials.