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Chapter 399: God's Guided Cavalry

Shanel shifted the Charleville Carbine on his back and hoisted a few bags of luggage onto his shoulder—he couldn't bear to let his mount carry anything, wanting it to rest.

"Jacques!" A young noble he knew ran past him, calling out over his shoulder, "Victor wants us to assemble immediately, right over there. Hurry!"

Shanel reached out to grab him. "What's happened?"

"I hear the Algerians attacked the border," the latter said, forcefully shaking him off. "Victor said the army is all downstream on the Medjerda River. Currently, only Tunisians are defending Bizerte's northwest, and that's our chance!"

Shanel hastily straightened his military uniform and ran towards the distant assembly point.

At the front of the crooked line of nobles, a square-faced young noble stood atop a carriage, waving the saber in his hand, delivering a loud speech. "General Schérer's main force likely won't make it in time to intercept the raiding Algerians. This is an excellent opportunity for us!"

He vigorously waved his hand. "My dearest comrades, the time has come to display your superb military prowess. If we can reach Tamra before nightfall tomorrow, we can achieve a great feat and win supreme glory!"

Shanel immediately joined the shouting. This Victor was a prominent figure in their school's law faculty, and he was the one who had called upon everyone to come fight in Tunisia. Not just from Rennes University, but hundreds of young nobles along the way had joined his contingent. Although Victor only held the rank of Lieutenant, a rank his father had bought for him on the eve of military reforms, he had nonetheless become their leader.

"Heh, a bunch of boastful idiots." Accompanied by footsteps, a squad of young men in tattered uniforms, some even just in shirts, passed behind them, emitting waves of mockery.

"That's how nobles always are. Their skill at talking exceeds their skill at doing by a thousandfold."

"Let them keep entertaining themselves. By the time they start moving, we'll have already knocked the Algerians flat."

Victor immediately looked at the horse-mounted young officer at the front of that squad, who had thinning hair and melancholic eyes. He shouted with displeasure, "Lieutenant Ney, please control your men! Don't interfere with our battle preparations!"

The latter gave him a cold glance, then waved to the formation behind him and said, "Silence, everyone! Increase the marching pace."

"Yes, sir!"

The sergeants in the formation immediately responded loudly and began to rein in the soldiers. At the same time, their only four old military drums were beaten louder, and the entire contingent instantly fell silent.

Victor watched the commoner contingent quickly move away and grew a little anxious.

These commoners had come to Tunisia with them on the same naval transport ship and numbered eight or nine hundred. 'Who knew they would be so fast!' Victor thought. 'It seems that commoner officer named Michel Ney has some real skill.'

He hastily cut his speech short and ordered the young nobles to form ranks, preparing to head for Tamra.

That was the westernmost town of Bizerte. As long as they held it, they could prevent the Algerian army from penetrating further into Bizerte.

The noble "volunteer army," spurred by the recent taunts, moved swiftly. In just about an hour, they formed their marching formation and, to the rhythmic sounds of military drums and organs, quickly headed west.

The officer on the naval transport ship, seeing both contingents depart without authorization, hastily chased after them, demanding they report to General Schérer first, but no one paid him any mind.

Meanwhile, Shanel's servant, Matthew, returned to the dock, panting and carrying two bags of oats, only to find his master's shadow long gone...

Victor finally spotted the commoner contingent's encampment before nightfall. He immediately spurred his horse forward excitedly—the noble contingent almost all rode horses, even some servants had their own mounts, and along the way, they paid local Tunisians to carry their luggage and pull supply carts, which was why their marching speed was a fair bit faster than the commoners.

Ney, who was inspecting the camp, also saw him and unexpectedly took the initiative to greet him. "Lieutenant Moreau," he said, "Honestly, your speed has quite surprised me."

"It's nothing," Victor Moreau said, nodding to him. "We are the 'God's Guided Cavalry,' after all. How could we possibly fail to catch up with infantry?"

Ney frowned slightly. "'God's... Guided?'"

"Oh, while it hasn't yet received formal recognition from the General Staff, this name will surely be remembered by France!"

Victor Moreau had originally intended to say that these nobles had joined the army at the call of the "Son of Divine Favor," which was why they had chosen this impressive name—'the Son of Divine Favor's guidance' was, rounded up, equivalent to 'God's guidance.'

Ney shook his head at the silly name, muttering inwardly, 'It seems there's no point hoping these noble gentlemen behind us will be of any help.'

The next morning, Moreau, catching the first ray of sunlight, was about to brush his teeth when he heard faint drum sounds from not far away. He immediately looked at his attendant. "Have the commoners broken camp?"

"It appears so, Lieutenant."

Moreau immediately grabbed a military drum himself and beat it forcefully, anxiously shouting, "Assemble the entire force! Prepare to depart!"

...

London.

Marquis Wellesley, looking at the secret report of the Moroccan and Algerian coalition forces' deployment, felt somewhat reassured.

Two days ago, Parliament had passed the Prime Minister's proposal: to use some interests in the Caribbean Sea, plus recognition of France's claims over Tunisia, in exchange for France not interfering in the situation in India.

And the premise for all this was that France would encounter significant enough trouble in North Africa.

Currently, 40,000 troops from North Africa were simultaneously attacking Tunisia. This was the leverage he needed.

He would just wait for the French cabinet to begin discussing sending reinforcements to North Africa, then immediately go to Paris to negotiate with them.

...

The northern border between Algiers and Tunisia.

A contingent of Black soldiers, dressed in thin yellow shirts and wide breeches, carrying Brown Bess Flintlock Muskets on their backs, was majestically advancing along the mountain pass. Their force of over ten thousand men stretched for nearly two miles.

Said, wearing a trapezoidal red leather hat, looked at the distant plain and asked the Black officer beside him, "Agorde, how much further is it to Bizerte?"

"Less than 5 miles, Pasha."

Said nodded smugly. The cavalry who returned at noon had spotted the main French force downstream on the Medjerda River. That location was a three-day journey north of Bizerte.

By the time the French realized those Algerian Janissaries were just a decoy and tried to return north to relieve the city, he would have already occupied the Port of Bizerte.

Afterward, whether to continue eastward to attack Tunis City or turn south towards Kairouan, he would hold a significant advantage. Even if an unfavorable situation arose, he could still threaten the French army by burning down the Port of Bizerte, essentially putting himself in an unbeatable position.

As long as he caused trouble within Tunisia for a month or two, he could return to Morocco, and the British would pay him a hefty sum of 2 million rials for it.

Chapter 401: Unprofessional "Players"

Said had someone bring a map and looked at it. He said to Agold: "Order the vanguard to reach Tamra before this afternoon. Rest there for a day, then the entire army will attack Cape Serrat the day after tomorrow."

Cape Serrat was the only town on the western side of Bizerte. According to intelligence, three to four thousand Tunisian troops were stationed there. After capturing Cape Serrat, the path to the Port of Bizerte would be clear.

The Black officer bowed in acknowledgment and quickly relayed the Moroccan Janissaries commander's orders.

...

Ney hummed a rural folk song from Saar along with his soldiers—these men had been trained for less than four months and knew only simple tunes—while inwardly calculating how much longer it would take to reach Tamra.

Just then, his company commander galloped towards him, shouting, "Moroccans spotted! They're less than four kilometers from Tamra!"

His unit severely lacked cavalry, so only officers who could ride, like the company commander, could serve as Hussar scouts.

Ney's heart tightened at the news. 'It seems we'll arrive in Tamra later than the enemy,' he thought.

'That means it will be a siege battle,' he realized.

He quickly asked the company commander, "How many enemy troops are there?"

"At least two thousand, possibly three thousand."

Ney frowned even deeper. He didn't even have a thousand soldiers under his command. Defending Tamra might be manageable, but attacking would likely be an uphill battle.

'Should we fall back to Cape Serrat?' he wondered.

He glanced back. Such a retreat would surely draw ridicule from the nobles.

He gritted his teeth and declared to his soldiers, "Speed up the march! We'll show those nobles who the real warriors are!"

The soldiers immediately erupted in cheers:

"Let the noble lords see!"

"Victory is ours!"

"Long live His Majesty the King!"

Most of these men were farmers whose families had acquired land. After hearing that the Crown Prince had called for commoners to join the army, any family with surplus labor eagerly signed up.

Initially, they simply wanted to repay His Majesty the King for fulfilling their dream of owning land. Only after understanding France's current military policies did they realize they could also rise to officer ranks through military merit. And if they distinguished themselves, they could secure a comfortable life forever.

Thus, while this "rookie" army's training was limited, their morale was exceptionally high.

This was the fundamental reason Joseph pushed for land distribution despite immense resistance—only by increasing the sense of national identity among the vast majority of France's lower classes could the nation's true strength be unleashed.

During the Napoleonic era, France's population wasn't significantly larger than it was now, yet Napoleon could easily mobilize 600,000 troops. Currently, France couldn't even muster 160,000 troops. This was because the French Revolution had massively ignited the people's enthusiasm, completing their national awakening. National affairs were no longer just the duty of nobles but a matter that concerned every French person.

If France could now also mobilize 600,000 troops and ensure logistical supply, it could instantly sweep across Europe.

One must remember that Britain, Austria, and Prussia combined could only raise over 400,000 troops at present—hardly a match.

Of course, land policy alone wasn't enough to foster absolute national identity among the French populace, but it was already a significant step forward.

Ney watched the soldiers' noticeably quicker pace, loudly boosting morale and constantly reminding the officers to keep an eye on any stragglers.

Two kilometers away, Victor Moreau also received reports of the Moroccans approaching Tamra.

He looked at the messenger Ney had sent. "How far are your men from Tamra?"

"Over six kilometers, Lieutenant."

Victor Moreau frowned, pondering for a moment, then asked, "I recall there are still three hundred Tunisian soldiers in Tamra?"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Moreau nodded. "Good. Order them to advance to the western side of the town and set up a defensive line, delaying the Moroccans with all their might."

"Yes, sir!" the messenger replied instinctively, but then immediately caught himself. "But, sir, you don't have the authority to move them, do you...?"

"Tell them it's authorization from General Schérer. The documents will be given to them after the battle."

"This..."

"Don't delay, or Tamra will be lost!"

The messenger jolted, quickly straightened his chest, and declared, "Yes, Lieutenant!"

Watching the messenger spur his horse away, Victor Moreau's chief of staff whispered, "Lieutenant, you could face a court-martial for this."

"As long as we hold Tamra, we'll only receive medals," Victor Moreau smiled. "And even if something goes wrong, it'll be Lieutenant Ney who faces the court-martial. It was his man who falsely claimed to have the general's authorization."

...

Ney let out a loud sneeze, rubbed his nose, then suddenly heard what sounded like gunshots from the west, and his heart tightened.

He looked at the formation, which had completely fallen into disarray from the forced march, and loudly ordered them to regroup on the spot, then continue in a four-rank column.

They were now less than half a kilometer from Tamra. The gunshots were likely from the Moroccans looting the town.

"We will give those infidels a profound lesson..."

He hadn't finished speaking when he heard a company commander, who had gone ahead to scout, report:

"Lieutenant, the Tunisian border guards are engaging the Moroccans. But it seems they can't hold out much longer."

Ney's eyes widened. By his estimation, those few hundred Tunisian soldiers should have fled long ago. He had heard rumors about the Tunisian army back home, all saying they couldn't even maintain formation and were virtually useless.

In truth, he didn't know that Tunisian soldiers in India were being used as elite troops by Lafayette...

"Quick! Advance immediately to reinforce them!"

Ney roared, taking the lead with the now re-formed First and Second Companies, rushing towards Tamra.

One-third of these two companies were soldiers he had brought from Saar, whose abilities were far superior to the others. Originally, he had planned to take them to enroll in a military academy—commoners could attend military academies with full tuition waivers, and room and board fully covered—but there were no military academies in Saar, and the military academies in other regions that accepted commoners had already passed their enrollment season.

Ultimately, on the advice of a relative who had joined the Guards Corps, he decided to come to North Africa to advance his career. Along the way, many commoners intending to fight in North Africa learned he was an officer and voluntarily followed him, and this force expanded to as many as eight companies...

The vanguard of the Moroccan Janissaries hadn't expected any resistance at all. Their scout cavalry had reported that Tamra's defenders had completely abandoned the town.

So when the Tunisian soldiers, hiding outside Tamra, suddenly opened fire on them, it threw them into temporary disarray.

The Moroccan Janissaries, composed entirely of Black soldiers, quickly stabilized their ranks and launched a counterattack. However, just as they were pushing back the over three hundred Tunisian soldiers, who were on the verge of collapse, a thin Line Formation of soldiers clad in white uniforms appeared in their sight.