Chapter 1262: The Miraculous Potion
At this point, the main forces of the anti-French Coalition still consisted of: 270,000 Austrian troops, 13,000 British troops, nearly 30,000 Russian troops, 10,000 Saxon troops, 4,000 Swedish troops, and 5,000 troops from other small German states.
Their total strength amounted to just over 330,000.
In contrast, the French forces currently had: nearly 370,000 French troops, a combined 30,000 from the North Italian states, and 7,000 Spanish troops.
Additionally, there were over 70,000 Prussian troops who had just "defected."
Bringing their total strength to 470,000!
Currently, France held an overwhelming advantage over the Coalition Forces, both in terms of military combat power and troop numbers.
The entire battlefield situation on the European continent had been completely turned around!
As the two conversed, Berthier rode up behind them, reining in his horse. He bowed to Joseph and said:
"Your Royal Highness, the Tenth Army Group officially departed from Paris this morning.
Oudinot had been promoted to Major General after his great victory at Basel.
The Chief of the General Staff then produced a freshly delivered battle report:
"Currently, the main Coalition forces are moving west through Nuremberg, seemingly preparing to continue their advance on Karlsruhe."
Charles, standing nearby, thoughtfully mused:
"Could we perhaps fall back a little first, to boost the enemy's confidence?"
Masséna smiled and shook his head:
"Your Royal Highness, an army of hundreds of thousands is difficult to conceal from enemy intelligence. Instead, we should strike swiftly, aiming for a decisive battle against the Coalition Forces within Bavarian territory."
Joseph agreed, adding:
"Yes, and Moreau's Legion has been out of contact for a long time. The longer we delay, the more dangerous their situation becomes."
Charles eagerly gripped his riding crop, asking:
"So what do we do now? A full-scale attack?"
Berthier looked at the Crown Prince. Seeing him nod, he began to explain the General Staff's operational deployment to Charles:
"Firstly, the army needs a brief period of rest, Your Royal Highness. This time will also be used to replenish the forces lost by the Sixth and Seventh Army Groups.
"Next, five newly formed army groups, along with Oudinot's Legion, will be responsible for frontal operations along the Nuremberg line.
"Concurrently, General Masséna will lead the First and Fourth Army Groups to swiftly advance eastward to Regensburg, in order to cut off the enemy's retreat route along the Danube River.
"Soult's Corps will cut in between Bayreuth and Nuremberg. Depending on the situation, they may reinforce General Moreau, or, if they are too far apart, pivot to launch a pincer attack from Nuremberg's east side. This will also allow them to strike at the enemy's logistical supplies."
A magnificent image instantly formed in Charles's mind: nearly 400,000 troops continuously advancing across a front hundreds of kilometers wide, closing in on the enemy. His face flushed with excitement.
Berthier then recalled another matter and addressed the Crown Prince:
"Your Royal Highness, Prince Heinrich has requested that Blücher's Legion return to Prussia as soon as possible. He fears the Coalition Forces might send troops to attack Berlin."
Joseph considered this for a moment, then shook his head:
"The task of defending Prussia can be left to Augereau's Corps.
"Send the Duke of Brunswick's forces to Nuremberg, under General Oudinot's command. Blücher's Legion will be responsible for attacking Freiburg."
How could he possibly allow the Prussians to rest and recuperate far from the battlefield? Not only would they not rest, but they would also be assigned the main attacking mission.
A subordinate should act like a subordinate.
Moreover, the more Coalition soldiers the Prussian army killed on the battlefield, the more firmly they would have to follow France in the future.
That evening, as Joseph was planning the future political landscape of North Germany, he heard Eman knock on the door and announce:
"Your Royal Highness, Bishop Sieyes and Mr. Lavalette have arrived."
Joseph put down his pen and nodded. "Let them in."
"Yes, Your Royal Highness."
A moment later, the former French envoy to Poland and the head of the Security Bureau approached Joseph together and bowed respectfully:
"Your Royal Highness."
Joseph smiled and gestured for them to sit:
"I thought it would take you another two days to arrive."
"There's now a direct train connection to Strasbourg, which made it very convenient," Lavalette replied.
In reality, after receiving the Crown Prince's orders, they had traveled non-stop for two consecutive nights to reach Stuttgart so quickly.
Joseph nodded, then produced a pre-prepared confidential letter and handed it to Sieyes:
"Please go to Warsaw immediately and deliver this letter to His Majesty Stanisław II. Instruct him to..."
He then looked at Lavalette. "The Security Bureau is to prepare all necessary documents for Bishop Sieyes."
"Yes, Your Royal Highness."
"Oh, and how have you fared with selecting that group of Russian prisoners?"
The latter promptly replied, "They are ready, Your Royal Highness. The first batch totals 800 men."
"Good, then let the operation commence."
...
Berlin.
City Palace.
Dr. Heinemann emerged from the King's bedroom, turned to close the door, and was immediately surrounded by a group of nobles:
"Mr. Heinemann, how is His Majesty doing?"
"Can those two Frenchmen really help?"
"I heard His Majesty's voice. Can we see him?"
Heinemann, not daring to offend these high-ranking nobles, hurriedly whispered:
"His Majesty is much better now. He hasn't had a fever since this afternoon.
"Baron Carrier said that we must prevent anyone from bringing 'bacteria' into His Majesty's room, so for now, no one is allowed inside."
"Is His Majesty truly better?"
Heinemann nodded:
"At least for now, he is continuously improving."
The Prussian nobles exchanged astonished glances, their faces filled with disbelief.
After all, William III had suffered from a persistent high fever for over ten days, losing consciousness at one point.
At the time, Dr. Heinemann had stated he had at most three days left. The royal family had even transported the coffin into the City Palace. The church was already preparing for Prince Friedrich's Coronation Ceremony.
Yet, after that Frenchman named Carrier arrived, he miraculously cured the King!
"Do you think those two Frenchmen might have used witchcraft?"
Having walked quite a distance away, Heinemann suddenly turned back and declared with great solemnity:
"You cannot slander Dr. Carrier like that. His medical skills are exceptional, and he brought with him a most advanced medicine."
In the King's bedroom, filled with the scent of phenol, Carrier carefully cleaned William III's wound.
Though still a gruesome mess of flesh and blood, after he had removed the necrotic tissue and continuously cleaned it with saline solution, several parts of the wound had begun to scab over, and the foul odor was gone.
After a good while, Carrier instructed servants, clad in white coats and masks, to change the King's sterilized bedding. He, meanwhile, carefully took out a vial of medicine and drew it into a syringe.
William III watched the liquid in the glass vial disappear, then nervously asked:
"Dr. Carrier, how many more treatments like this will be needed?"
"That depends on your recovery," the doctor replied. "At least five more injections of the medicine will be necessary."
William III nodded, silently praying: 'I absolutely must recover as quickly as possible.'
It wasn't to alleviate his suffering, but because this miraculous medicine was simply too expensive—one dose cost 200,000 Thaler!
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