She changed Europe

Page 70

"Hmm?" Gisela was increasingly confused by Hana's reaction.

"By the way, the French outer perimeter troops are starting to waver." Hana pointed to the distance, where the blue-clad troops turned around and began to retreat towards the inner camp. After all, for them, a meaningless defense would neither boost their morale nor bring them any so-called victory.

"That's about it. It's time to use my trump card." Gisela rubbed the tip of her nose, stood up, and stretched languidly. Perhaps it was the beauty her mother had given her, but now, at 14, Gisela had become the center of attention, drawing the attention of countless dusty Imperial soldiers in the trenches behind her.

“Bring him up,” Gisela said to the imperial soldiers behind her. Soon, a haggard-looking French soldier with a head injury was brought before Gisela.

“Sir, my request is simple. Hold my hand for a moment, read this manuscript aloud, and you will be released and receive a reward of 1000 francs. What you do in the future is entirely up to you.” Gisela gave a wink, and the soldier beside him handed a piece of white paper with the speech written on it to the French prisoner in front of him.

“Yes, sir.” The French prisoner nodded. No one would refuse such a cushy job: a fortune of a thousand francs, requiring neither treason nor risking his life—it was simply a matter of reading a manuscript. It was an incredible opportunity. (He thought so.)

"Remember, you must be sincere in your recitation. I will adjust your commission accordingly based on the quality of your recitation." Gisele extended his hand, and the French soldier carefully grasped it before taking a deep breath.

To my dear Barre:

"Barre, my dear son, how are you doing in Italy? Your mother and I miss you dearly and hope you can come home soon. Of course, I know you are a soldier, a glorious French soldier. You take up arms to defend your country and protect ordinary people like your mother and me. I am proud of you." The French prisoner read aloud with deep emotion, as if it were a letter written to him by his parents. His voice, amplified by Gisela's magic, spread to every corner of the battlefield, and the Austrian army tacitly halted their attack in coordination with the effort.

"Today I saw a newspaper in the town's reading room that said our army carried out a brutal massacre in Italy? My God! I hope you are not the perpetrator of this tragedy. We are a nation that prides itself on civilization, and our Emperor has made us call ourselves liberators, fighting for the Italian people? And what have our army done? How could we raise our swords against the Italian people?"

"Your mother was furious. She was ashamed that you had joined such an army devoid of morality and faith. I told her not to be sad, that our son is not such a butcher, and that our child will no longer be an accomplice to evil. So if that's the truth, then forget about the army and go home! Your sister is getting married, and your fiancée is waiting for you to come home. Let the Italians worry about their own affairs; we French children have our own things to do..."

The letter, filled with complaints and seemingly selfish, was so sincere that it struck a chord with the desperate French soldiers: Why must we shed blood for strangers? Why must we abandon our families, wives, and even our children?

"We don't want to fight!" The demoralized French soldiers wanted to lay down their weapons and surrender to the Austrians before them. This wasn't about abandoning honor, because from the beginning, there was no such thing as honor in this war that had nothing to do with them...

Faced with a morally bankrupt situation and an insurmountable obstacle to victory, this French army made an almost inevitable decision...

When tens of thousands of French troops from four divisions surrendered to the Austrians, Napoleon III's main force, under the command of Jeanne d'Orléans, Duke of Orléans, had already defeated Archduchess Freya's defenses and opened the road to Milan. Unfortunately, their strength was waning. Even more pressing for Emperor Napoleon III and his advisors were the domestic problems plaguing the country!

First, there was the pressure from domestic public opinion. Those damned opposition figures took that massacre report in the American newspaper (Taiwan Daily) with questionable veracity and made a big fuss about it, frantically smearing themselves and portraying themselves as a hypocritical villain, a butcher, and an ambitious schemer.

Damn it! Don't they ever reflect on their own actions regarding the butchers of their beloved First Republic era? Compared to those political upstarts who use the guillotine so frequently, what am I? Besides, I only killed a few insignificant foreigners, and even that's still being verified.

PS1: Ra!

Chapter 260 Irises Fading in the Alps: Capter 121 Camilla, Philippe, Pétain

Unfortunately, the French people are forgetful and nostalgic. They don't care what good or bad things you've done in the past; they only care whether you meet their expectations now. Clearly, the French people are not interested in this war that doesn't concern them.

Secondly, there was pressure from abroad. He simply couldn't understand what had gotten into that incurable old woman across the strait, and that alcoholic, hopeless country woman from Prussia (Bismarck) who, apart from her looks, was utterly incorrigible! They used this incident to criticize him for not being cautious enough in handling the Italian issue, and for needing to reconsider and examine France's true intentions in Italy.

Furthermore, the Kingdom of Sardinia had completely fallen into a vicious cycle of anti-French sentiment, because those damned American journalists, while reporting negative news, also revealed a key part of the secret Franco-Sardinian treaty—the cession of Nice and Savoy to France in exchange for French assistance.

Of course, there were also those within the Kingdom of Sardinia with ulterior motives who, combining the disappearances of Princess Misella and Garibaldi with the heavy casualties among the kingdom's soldiers, believed that France was using the Italians as cannon fodder to better deal with the Austrians. In this respect, Napoleon III did initially have such thoughts; after all, it was understandable for him to weaken the Savoy dynasty in order to maintain his influence over it. However, he had always been very careful in these matters and shouldn't have been so easily discovered.

Fortunately, the Kingdom of Sardinia, under the leadership of Kings Cavour and Vittorio, is still able to maintain its alignment with him. However, this is only temporary. If another major defeat occurs on the front lines, this distrust will turn into violence, and a revolution may eventually take place in Turin. Although France can send troops to assist in the suppression, this will lead to the complete failure of the French military operation in Italy, because the French army does not have sufficient troops in Italy to accomplish both tasks simultaneously.

Thinking of these vexing matters, Napoleon III slammed his fist on the table in anger. These were just external factors; the situation of the French army on the battlefield was not optimistic either. McMahon's Second Column had lost contact yesterday. Although his side had successfully completed the breakthrough, without the support of the Second Column, even his most trusted General Cornelius advised against launching an attack on Magenta for the time being.

"Generals, please tell me, what exactly is wrong with our logistics this time?" Why are the supply trains experiencing frequent technical malfunctions? Why are our grain shipments by horse-drawn wagons constantly going missing? After several days of fierce fighting at the front, all supplies are severely depleted! I don't want these trivial matters to delay our military plans." Napoleon frowned, his gaze sweeping over the French commanders around him with obvious displeasure.

“Your Majesty! I believe the train malfunction may not be a simple technical problem, but rather someone is deliberately sabotaging our transportation lines and robbing our supplies!” A blonde woman with a mole on her lip pushed through the crowd and came to a position slightly closer to the inside of the table, speaking earnestly to Napoleon III.

"Major, mind your place! You have no right to voice your opinions here." A middle-aged man beside the girl angrily reprimanded the extremely rude young woman. He was now truly regretting his decision. If his command post hadn't been attacked by an Austrian shell during the battle, resulting in serious injuries to many adjutants and staff officers, he wouldn't have brought this major, who had just joined his staff, to the military conference chaired by His Majesty the Emperor.

Napoleon III observed the young woman with great interest. She was beautiful and dignified, like a well-educated noblewoman, but her simple attire revealed her humble origins. Napoleon III liked to employ subordinates from commoner backgrounds, a trait he shared with his aunt.

“No problem! General, let this beautiful young lady, the major, finish saying what she has to say.” Napoleon III naturally possessed the basic manners of a gentleman when dealing with beautiful ladies. Moreover, compared to those generals who would only tell him it was a technical malfunction, this young woman with her distinct opinions was more likely to pique his interest.

"Your Majesty." The girl took a deep breath and placed her right hand on her chest.

"As I just said, I believe that our train's failure was not due to a technical malfunction, but rather to human error. The reasons are as follows: Firstly, France uses standardized railways. If we consider the railways as a whole, the accident rate during operation after construction is roughly as follows..." The girl took out a piece of paper from her pocket.

"But if we list the railways used by our army separately, we can easily see that the accident rate increased significantly during this period?" The girl raised her head, her expression filled with an inner confidence.

"So perhaps it's because our transport pressure has increased, causing the railway to be overwhelmed?" one of the generals retorted to the girl. Of course, his question was also the same question that many of the generals present wanted to ask.

"Then why are they all concentrated in this area?" The girl pointed to the map. This was clearly a section of railway within the Kingdom of Sardinia. The railways in Sardinia were built with the assistance of the French, so the standards of the two countries were relatively uniform.

"Of course, although I don't have sufficient evidence to prove my conjecture, my on-site investigation revealed that half of the train derailments were caused by the removal of the railway tracks, and the other half were caused by explosions. Although you asserted that the explosions were caused by the boiler in the locomotive, have you considered that they might have been caused by explosives?"

"What a joke! These railways are all located within our occupied territories and the lands of our allies! It's impossible for enemy troops to reach these areas and sabotage our railways, and we couldn't possibly have missed such a large-scale operation." (Don't be surprised, these guerrilla warfare concepts didn't exist back then.)

"What if the enemy is operating in a small squad?" The girl had already guessed that these old fogies wouldn't easily accept her views, so she had prepared this question in advance.

"I understand what you mean, Major. You believe our enemy sent a small force to harass and disrupt our supply lines, causing our current shortage of supplies, right?" Napoleon stroked his beard and concluded thoughtfully.

"Yes, Your Majesty, that is exactly what I mean." The girl took off her hat and tucked it under her arm.

"Ahem! Well then, we must send more men to check the situation along the railway line. Given the current crisis, is there anyone willing to take on this important task?" Napoleon III coughed lightly, glancing at the group of generals around him with their heads bowed, before fixing his gaze back on the young woman. After all, Napoleon III understood these generals' thoughts all too well. Compared to this kind of trivial logistical work, they clearly preferred leading their troops into battle against the Austrians; that was where the best rewards for military exploits lay.

"Major, what is your name?" Napoleon III looked at the young woman with a serious expression.

“Your Majesty, my name is Camilla Philippe Pétain.” The girl held her head high with great pride. Although it was not a noble surname, she felt that the surname Pétain carried the blessings and expectations her parents had for her.

Chapter 261 Irises wither in the cold and desolate Alps — —Yis:Capter122 Jeanne's anger (Seeking votes)

"Very well, Pétain, you'll be in charge of this matter. Let me think about what rank would suit you." Although Napoleon III already had an answer in mind, he decided to put on an act to give these selfish generals a taste of their power.

"Then the Major General will do." Napoleon III closed one eye and put his hand in his pocket.

“Your Majesty, you must not! This young girl, who has no experience or military achievements, is not up to such an important task!” Generals led by Conrobel objected one after another.

“No, I believe logistics is very important to the army, and she deserves this honor.” Napoleon III still maintained a determined demeanor.

"Then Your Majesty, please do so after Miss Pétain has resolved this matter."

“Very well! Since the generals have said so, I can’t be too arbitrary. Miss Pétain, you can be promoted to colonel for now. If you perform well, the honor of major general will be yours sooner or later.” Napoleon III made a reluctant gesture, seemingly forced to compromise with the generals, but in fact, the colonel title was just a result he had already planned.

"Your Majesty is wise." The generals nodded in agreement. At this moment, many of the generals present were also secretly making plans. If His Majesty made any further requests next time, they would definitely volunteer. After all, that little girl, Beitang, was the best example.

The meeting continued, and although two important ladies were absent, the subsequent content was closely related to those two ladies.

----at the same time

"Soldiers, carefully tally the losses on both sides and then report to your respective military commanders. His Majesty requires an accurate and rigorous report to ensure that the following actions are effective and precise." At this moment, Richelieu was standing under a French flag, using his magical power to convey the order to every soldier cleaning up the battlefield.

"You always go to such lengths, and your emperor won't thank you for it." Jeanne said with a displeased expression, fiddling with her silver hair with her right hand and glancing at Richelieu, who was standing not far from her, diligently directing the army to clean up the battlefield.

“Jeanne! You’re doing this again. Charles isn’t just my emperor; he’s the common emperor of all the citizens of France.” Richelieu stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the extremely eccentric Jeanne with a reproachful expression.

"Hmph! Whatever." Jeanne didn't care who was the president of France, or who was the emperor or king. She was helping Napoleon III purely out of interest, and who knew she might join the Order Party or the Republicans someday. She didn't believe any position or interest could bind her; she lived only for herself, and perhaps for someone else as well.

Although Jeanne's words revealed her disgust and dissatisfaction with Richelieu at all times, after all, she hated how Richelieu was always bound by this or that reason. He was already the top magic user in France, but he lived for the so-called justice all day long.

“Jeanne, we were raised by the blood and sweat of the people, so we should repay their sacrifices.” Richelieu held her head high, and in the golden sunlight, her beautiful face seemed to take on a sacred quality because of her words.

"Tsk." Jeanne's signature disdain crept onto her face. She simply couldn't stand people like her ancestor Joan of Arc and Richelieu, these saints who constantly spouted morality. Seeing such people, she couldn't resist the urge to pick up her spear, strangle them, and then roast them with her crimson lotus.

"Don't say that!" Richelieu frowned slightly, stretched out his right hand, and flicked Jeanne's forehead hard. The pain on her forehead snapped Jeanne back to reality, who was standing there imagining a person being roasted.

“Shirley!” Jeanne roared angrily, then roughly grabbed Richelieu’s wrist.

"I hate the look on your face before, and you hurt my wrist!" Richelieu shook his wrist, which was being held by Jeanne, and bluntly told Jeanne what he wanted to say.

"Do you think I want to touch you! You're inflexible and never consider others, always thinking of others but never yourself. Do you think people who have nothing to do with you will appreciate your efforts? No! They won't! They'll just abuse your kindness and take it for granted, while those who truly care about you will suffer and worry because of your behavior!" Jeanne gripped Richelieu's wrist with even more force, and Xia Li's fair skin flushed red from the force.

Jeanne's anger wasn't simply due to Richelieu's words that day; she was unaware that Napoleon III had exploited her feelings for this naive woman to blackmail her into doing things she didn't want to do. Although the battle was won through her own desperate fighting and the loyalty and selfless sacrifice of the French rank-and-file soldiers, it was clear to everyone that France's situation in Italy was far from optimistic.

"Think carefully! What do you live for! I believe even your Victor Hugo didn't tell you that." Jeanne bit her lip hard, the pain keeping her awake. Then, after taking a deep breath, she released Richelieu's wrist, shouldered her lance, and walked towards the French army camp.

Richelieu watched Jeanne walk away with a bewildered expression, then sighed helplessly. This was the first time Jeanne had ever been so angry in front of her, ever since they started working together three years ago. Her impression of the Duke of Orléans had always been that he was a man with an awkward personality, but whose attitude was not bad.

"Am I really wrong? Is it wrong to wholeheartedly think of the people?"

Richelieu gently drew her sword, Roland, its silver light shimmering, yet the weapon in her hand felt utterly unfamiliar.

Three days later, Napoleon III and his generals made a decision: the main force would remain stationed north of Magenta to monitor the movements of the Austrian army, while the Duke of Orléans, Jeanne de Darc, would head north along the canal to launch a surprise attack on Milan, the core city of the Lombardy region.

Richelieu still remembered the day Jeanne led her army into battle, and he never looked at her again until the very end.

While the French army was preparing for its new operation, the Imperial army at Magen Tower, after taking in some of the surrendered French soldiers and annihilating the remaining French troops, also decided to regroup and launch a new offensive against the French army located north of Magen Tower.

During this period, Gisela handed over the main force back to Marshal Güle and his father, while he led the Bohemian Legion north to further reinforce Milan's defenses.

PS1: I've been so busy lately. All the things I wanted to discuss after the holiday have come knocking on my door.

Chapter 262 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter123 My riding skills are excellent! (Seeking votes)

At this moment, she, who looked majestic on her warhorse, had already frowned. Others may not have noticed the princess's unusual behavior, but the sharp-eyed Chloris immediately noticed Gisela's strangeness.

"What's wrong, little fox? You seem to be in a bad mood?" Chloris gently moved the horse towards Gisela and turned her head towards Gisela's direction as well.

"It's nothing..." Gisela glanced at Chloris, who seemed concerned but was actually gossipy, and couldn't help but frown. Of course, Gisela wouldn't tell Chloris that she wanted to learn from Hannibal and Napoleon's carefree time riding horses in Italy, so she chose to travel on horseback.

But for someone like Gisela, whose horsemanship is mediocre or even terrible, back and butt pain is definitely a given.

"Are you really alright?" Chloris smiled slightly as she looked Gisela over repeatedly.

"I told you I'm fine!" Gisela's voice trembled slightly from the pain; after all, she was a girl now, and her body was much more delicate than before.

"Tsk tsk!" Chloris rested her chin on her hand, watching Gisela, who was pretending to be nonchalant, with great interest. Should one say that this little fox was fearless? Or was she deliberately courting death? Everyone else wears special clothing when riding horses, but she just wore her little dress and went ahead and did it herself.

"Fine, I'm not some kind of demon. I'll teach her a lesson." A somewhat terrifying thought popped into Chloris's mind. She licked her lips, wiped away non-existent saliva, and pulled on the reins of her horse to stop.

“Little fox.” Chloris dismounted from her warhorse and came to Gisela’s mount, observing the princess. Gisela looked at the gray-haired, red-eyed Prussian beauty with some confusion. She really couldn’t understand what her gourd-shaped winged device was up to.

"What's wrong? We're on the march right now, I don't have time for you..." Gisela looked at Chloris, who was approaching her, with a wary expression.

"Nothing!" Chloris ignored Gisela's question and leaped onto her warhorse.

"What are you doing!" Gisela watched helplessly as the woman mounted his horse and sat behind him.

“It’s nothing. I just thought your riding skills were so-so, so I wanted to teach you.” Chloris was expressionless, and even spoke with a serious tone. Even if Gisela wanted to doubt this woman, she couldn’t find a suitable excuse for a moment.

“First, you should bend down a little, put your feet in the stirrups, and press your buttocks against the saddle and the horse’s back,” Chloris instructed Gisela, patting Gisela’s exposed thighs due to her skirt. Although it was just an unintentional gesture, Gisela instinctively shrank her fair neck because she felt a little uncomfortable.

"Little fox, the way you rode that horse just now was really lame, not pretty at all," Chloris whispered in Gisela's ear.

"I just don't like sticking to the rules, it's not that I'm bad at riding!" Gisela stubbornly stated as expected, after all, this was a matter of his dignity as a man.

"So that means you're great?"

“Just kidding, I’m awesome.” Chloris suddenly smiled, then patted Gisela’s thigh again. But this time she didn’t let go, instead sliding her hand down Gisela’s taut legs to a more intimate area.

"You!" Gisela instinctively tried to push Chloris's right hand away.

Just then, Chloris produced a nail from somewhere and plunged it into the horse's rump. With a sharp pain, the warhorse neighed, charged off the road, and galloped towards the fields, eventually disappearing into the distance.

This terrified many of the soldiers guarding the princess. After all, if Princess Gisela were to suffer any mishap, they would be in deep trouble. Moreover, Joseph had seen his beloved daughter again and now doted on Gisela, even giving her his personal warhorse.

"Don't be nervous, relax..." Hannah gently waved her hand to signal the soldiers not to panic. In the mind of this young lady of the Luo family, this was just a basic operation by that wicked Prussian princess. The soldiers still obeyed the black-haired girl's orders very well. After all, in the eyes of these soldiers, this advisor to the princess had an exceptionally good relationship with the princess.

It's worth mentioning that there was another important person in the Bohemian Legion: Leopold and his sister. Empress Elizabeth particularly admired her nephew, so she persuaded Joseph to transfer Leopold to Gisela's troops as well, hoping that the two could develop a relationship and avoid disharmony in their future married life. After all, intermarriage between the Austrian Empire and the Kingdom of Bavaria was an established national policy, and even she had gone through it.

Of course, as Leopold watched Gisela and Chloris rush towards the field, he felt a strange unease and an inexplicable sense of crisis, even though they were both women.

“Nina! You ride after her and find Princess Gisela. I will stay here and command the troops to rest.” Leopold quickly put his earlier strange thoughts behind him and said to his sister.

"Yes, brother!" Nina nodded obediently, cracked her whip, and chased after Gisela in the direction she had disappeared.

Gisela at this moment—

"Clauris, what are you doing! I'm about to lose control of the reins," Gisela said somewhat anxiously. After all, this was the first time she had ever encountered a warhorse running wild, so such panic was to be expected. If the emperor's mount hadn't been so docile, she probably wouldn't have been able to even mount it, let alone rely on Gisela's riding skills.

“It’s no big deal. I’ll just fall down and catch you.” Chloris raised an eyebrow, her tone carrying a sense of complete control. Although she sounded reliable, Gisela felt like she had fallen into a trap.

"No need! I can handle it!" Gisela took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the reins considerably. Although she certainly wouldn't admit that her riding skills were bad, the truth was...

"Then watch out ahead, little fox." Gisela turned around just as a branch as thick as an arm was heading straight for her. Startled, she quickly ducked down and pressed herself against the horse's back to avoid the branch. Chloris, on the other hand, tilted her head slightly and also dodged the flying branch.

“See? I told you, my riding skills are still excellent.” Gisela turned to look at Chloris, her expression full of pride, even her fox ears stood up.

PS1: Ra!

Chapter 263 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 124 My sister-in-law is out...

"Is that so, my dear? Then please be careful." With that, Chloris grabbed a tree trunk some distance away and left Gisela's warhorse. Gisela looked at Chloris, who was fleeing from her, with suspicion, before turning back to look at an even thicker branch that was hurtling towards her.

"Aa ...

"Ouch! My butt! My tail!" The intense pain from her tail nearly made Gisela faint, and tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. If the tree trunk hadn't hit her chest earlier, relieving some of the pressure, the consequences would have been "unimaginable." However, seeing her still wriggling on the ground with her butt sticking out, it was clear that this time it really hurt.

Chloris rubbed her nose somewhat awkwardly, then released her right hand from the tree trunk and jogged over to Gisela to check on her. She realized that she hadn't warned her earlier, and she had to take the blame for it.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Chloris reached out, wanting to lift Gisela's fluffy fox tail to check on her condition, but Gisela angrily slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch me! You Prussians are all so rude and barbaric." For some reason, when Prussians were mentioned, the first person that came to Gisela's mind was not Chloris, not Tirpitz, not Goeben, but Bismarck.

That's right, it's Bismarck, the Prussian Chancellor. Although Gisela had some unpleasant experiences with that beautiful older sister, perhaps influenced by her past life and the combined effect of her interactions with her normal self, she felt an inexplicable closeness to that mature and composed older sister who looked remarkably like the ship girl Bismarck.

“If Bismarck were here, she would definitely stop you. You are also a princess, yet you always make such boring jokes!” Gisela frowned slightly, raised her little head slightly, rubbed her buttocks and chest, and then criticized Chloris with great dissatisfaction.

"I'm sorry, little fox, next time..." Chloris lowered her head, a hint of disappointment in her scarlet eyes, as if she were truly reflecting on her actions.

"Fine! I'm going to write a letter to Bismarck and tell her to keep an eye on you." Gisela still maintained a relentless attitude, after all, this time it really hurt too much.

“Bismarck is very busy, and I’ve reflected on this matter.” Chloris maintained a humble attitude, after all, she was in the wrong.