Chapter 1264: The English King's Palace
Hildesheim, 30 kilometers south of Hanover.
Listening to the soldiers around him singing the "Chant du Départ," Gaillard excitedly turned to Lefebvre. "Those British were truly arrogant in the Netherlands a few years back. One time, I was almost struck by a cannonball.
"Back then, I told the British facing us, 'Hey, you bastards, I swear I'll burn down your king's palace!'... Ahem, don't mind my crudeness.
"I never thought my wish would come true so soon, haha."
Indeed, George I resided in Leine Palace in Hanover before becoming the King of England. So, calling it the English King's palace wasn't incorrect.
Lefebvre replied calmly, "You're a little too easily satisfied."
Gaillard grinned. "Satisfied? Of course. Otherwise, could we really go burn down St James's Palace?"
"You could certainly make a wish like that," Lefebvre said, glancing westward. "Our Crown Prince possesses ambitions far grander than you can imagine.
"Oh, my apologies, I forgot you belong to the Walloon Regional Army, and thus might not be able to participate in an overseas operation."
Lefebvre nodded with a smile. "I'll see what I can do. If you manage to earn a medal here in Hanover, I think your chances will be much greater."
"Alright, just let me lead the main assault then!"
As Gaillard thumped his chest, a military doctor rode up behind them, bowing slightly to both before handing a small paper packet to an attendant nearby. "This is potassium iodide. Have the general take one-tenth of this daily. When it's finished, come back to me for more."
Lefebvre looked quizzically at the white powder in the packet. "Monsieur Fageau, what is this medicine for? I don't recall being ill."
The military doctor leaned closer and whispered, "It's for lead poisoning. Er, haven't you noticed that recent supplies haven't included any canned goods?"
"Poisoning?"
"Don't be alarmed, General, it's just a minor issue. A few months ago, some soldiers experienced headaches and fatigue, but we couldn't pinpoint the cause. Apparently, it was the Crown Prince himself who discovered it while eating canned food."
Joseph had never imagined that in this era, to reduce the difficulty of tin-plating iron, a large amount of lead was added to the tin—a practice that significantly lowered its melting point.
He hadn't consumed many canned goods before. It wasn't until this defense of Karlsruhe with his grenadier battalion that he noticed dark lead residue on his fingers while opening a can, realizing there was a problem.
He immediately ordered all canned goods to be replaced and had Lavoisier urgently synthesize a batch of potassium iodide—he remembered reading that it could help excrete lead from the body.
Fortunately, the army hadn't been consuming canned goods on a large scale for long, so the impact on the soldiers' health was minimal.
However, kelp harvesting in French coastal regions had recently become a booming industry. Currently, the fastest way to obtain iodine was by burning kelp, and over 200,000 French soldiers on the front lines were waiting to take potassium iodide.
The next morning at nine o'clock, Gaillard personally led 5,000 Walloon soldiers in a fierce assault on the city of Hanover.
However, the expected scenario of full enemy resistance didn't materialize; before it was even time for lunch, he already stood within the luxurious Leine Palace.
Indeed, the garrison defending Hanover numbered just over 600, and they were mostly hastily assembled forces. The moment the French cannons fired, they turned and fled.
Gaillard remarked glumly to Lefebvre beside him, "You see, can I even get a medal for this?"
The latter shook his head awkwardly. "Ah, I'm afraid it's not very likely..."
Today's engagement was less a battle and more an armed stroll; most of the soldiers still had full ammunition. How could one earn a medal for that?
"Damn it..." Gaillard muttered, just as he glimpsed the statue of George I in the square through the massive floor-to-ceiling window.
Immediately, he pointed outside the window with irritation and ordered his attendant, "Bosse, have someone dismantle that thing for me! No, blast it to pieces with cannons!"
Then he turned to the orderly behind him. "Order the soldiers to finish lunch as quickly as possible. We depart for Verden at two o'clock this afternoon, we'll try to capture Carl Ludwig."
His hopes of earning a medal now rested entirely on capturing this Governor of Hanover, who was also George III's brother-in-law.
Lefebvre hastily intervened. "Don't act rashly. The soldiers need to rest. As for Carl Ludwig, I've already sent Hussars to pursue him. Though, you shouldn't get your hopes up too high."
Gaillard sighed, preparing to restore order in the city, when he suddenly saw a Major running towards them, calling out loudly, "General, we found a secret compartment in the palace study, containing many private letters belonging to the Governor of Hanover!"
Gaillard's interest was immediately piqued. He took a letter from a wooden box held by a nearby soldier and unfolded it. "'The Parliament has decided to start the war; you must complete the army's assembly as quickly as possible...' Hmm, written by the Duke of York."
He switched to another letter. "This concerns William III's request for a loan from him. Lucky fellow, this money probably won't have to be repaid.
"Ha, look at this one: Carl's mistress complains that he's been dallying with Countess Rombly lately..."
Lefebvre also walked over, joining the letter-opening spree.
Even a highly decorated general couldn't resist the allure of gossip.
However, when he opened a rather thick letter, his expression instantly turned serious. He read in a low voice, "'...I've confirmed with Count Zubov that the young Crown Prince most likely personally killed his father. Thank you very much for your earlier advice; those Russian nobles had indeed long harbored thoughts of a coup, but lacked a concrete plan... I've attached detailed circumstances regarding this matter at the end of the letter. Please review them and see if there's anything we can leverage, so I can make some preparations before the Foreign Minister arrives in Saint Petersburg...'"
Gaillard's eyes widened. "Who wrote this?"
"Charles Whitworth, the British Envoy to Russia," Lefebvre answered casually, quickly pulling out the subsequent pages. His eyes lit up. "We've found something extraordinary—enough to earn you a medal..."
...
Coburg, Central Germany.
Two Thuringian farmers lay on a rooftop, nervously watching an endless procession stretch along the distant path. They muttered softly, "'I remember them heading west yesterday afternoon; why are they going east again today?'"
"'Idiot, didn't you see the golden-yellow facings on the collars and cuffs of those people yesterday? They aren't the same group.'"
"'Hey, look, don't those people have gold trim on their collars?'"
The older farmer was also stumped. "'I don't know either. Listen, they're singing, and it doesn't sound like German...'"
"'I know, it's French. I often hear Monsieur Prossno speaking French; it's that same cadence.'"
Indeed, before them was the French Royal Second Army, led by Soult.
Yesterday morning, Milius' Corps of the Coalition Forces, returning from their mission to reinforce Berlin, unexpectedly encountered Soult west of Coburg.
Before the Austrian forces could react, Soult had already sent men to seize a strategically crucial high ground, while his right-flank Voltigeurs swiftly completed their outflanking maneuver.
As the Austrian soldiers saw a pale blue hot air balloon float up into the sky, cannon fire erupted almost simultaneously from three directions around them.
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