Chapter 459: Virtues and Merits Completed
"Your Highness, no enemy forces have been detected along the Bourne River," Berthier announced, reining in his horse and saluting Joseph with a tip of his hat.
"Excellent, maintain our accelerated march," Joseph affirmed with a nod, waving a few sheets of paper in his hand. "This is a personal letter from Marshal Lacy, commending and thanking the Second Company of the Third Hussar Battalion. He also sent 5,000 Florins."
Berthier smiled. "If not for their timely cover, Marshal Lacy's headquarters might have been overtaken by Prussian cavalry.
"However, the young men of the Second Hussar Company were indeed exceptionally brave. Four of them received medals. Particularly Second Lieutenant Joachim Murat; this is his second Silver Iris Medal in six months."
Murat had killed three enemy soldiers and captured a Prussian Major during this engagement. He then led his unit to escort Marshal Lacy to safety, just shy of earning the Golden Fleur-de-lis Medal.
"He truly is an outstanding cavalryman!" Joseph feigned surprise, but inwardly, he felt no surprise at all.
This was Murat—Emperor Napoleon's future commander-in-chief of cavalry. In the original timeline, during the Battle of Eylau, he personally led a charge of over ten thousand cavalrymen, tearing through the Russian central defense line and annihilating dozens of Russian artillery batteries, decisively securing victory.
Such a talent's brilliance would shine through no matter where he was.
Joseph then told Berthier, "I believe Second Lieutenant Murat deserves an exceptional promotion."
As they spoke, a messenger galloped up, handing a report to Berthier. "General, this is the latest battle report from Breslau."
Berthier tore it open and quickly scanned its contents, then exclaimed excitedly to Joseph, "Your Highness, Marshal Lacy's forces have reached the Breslau fortress and will soon launch an attack! And, as you predicted, the main Prussian army is rushing to reinforce Breslau."
Upon hearing this, Joseph let out a long breath. After so many twists and turns, he was finally nearing the situation he desired—the military balance between Prussia and Austria hadn't shifted significantly. Once the Duke of Brunswick reached Breslau, they should re-establish a standoff near the fortress.
As for his own forces, they would reach Liegnitz in three days. Although the Duke of Brunswick had left nearly ten thousand defenders there, Joseph was arriving with the main force of the Guards Corps.
Since its formation, the Guards Corps had rarely fought with a numerical advantage, so no mishaps should occur during the siege warfare.
Once Liegnitz was handed over to Marshal Lacy, then Joseph's task would be truly 'Virtues and Merits Completed'.
At that time, William II, having lost Liegnitz, certainly wouldn't give up easily. And Austria, having finally reclaimed a province in Silesia, would be even less likely to let it go.
Both sides were bound to continue sending reinforcements and clash fiercely along the Breslau front. France could then use this time to focus quietly on its own development, and even sell supplies to the war-torn German regions.
'Alas, for the future of France, the great Holy Roman Empire would just have to endure a bit of hardship.'
...
The Duke of Brunswick frowned at the gloomy sky, cursing loudly at his soldiers, urging them to hasten their pace.
That old rogue Lacy had dared to assault Breslau with insufficient supplies, completely disrupting his plans.
But the Breslau fortress's garrison was far too small; even with the emergency deployment of local militia, they numbered fewer than nine thousand men. A single misstep could see it fall to the Austrians.
"God, please, don't let it rain."
He looked up at the dark clouds again, but then heard rapid hoofbeats. Turning, he saw a mud-splattered messenger gallop up to him, saying with a grimace, "Marshal, Liegnitz..."
"The enemy is attacking Liegnitz?"
The messenger nodded. "Yes, Marshal. When General Auguste sent me, the enemy vanguard had already entered the city's outskirts."
The Duke of Brunswick roared immediately, "What on earth is Auguste doing?!"
Just two days ago, a messenger from Liegnitz had assured him that no enemy movements had been detected. In less than two days, the city had fallen!
He lowered his gaze to his saddle, his face grim. Only half a month prior, he had proudly broken through the Austrian lines, ready to end the Silesian war and return to Potsdam.
Now, however, he was mulling over how he would beg for forgiveness from His Majesty the King...
Vienna.
In a private room on the second floor of the luxurious brothel, the 'Red Boots', a young woman wearing the latest fashionable makeup of the courtesans wrapped her arms around Basel's neck, gazing at him alluringly. She said in a soft, coquettish voice, "Monsieur Miller, if you're having trouble 'standing at attention,' I have some mummy powder here. It's a bit pricey, but I guarantee it works..."
As she spoke, her hand moved towards his groin.
"Please, move aside!" Basel swatted her hand away, then immediately pressed himself against the keyhole again.
The courtesan from 'Red Boots' was very professional. She leaned in again, unbuttoning her bodice. "Monsieur, you can make me do anything..."
Basel suddenly felt his legs a bit sore, so he pulled her to the door. "Then please, watch the room on the side for me—the one with the statue of Hera by its door. Tell me immediately if there's any movement there."
"Ah? Oh..." The courtesan reluctantly bent down to peer through the keyhole.
Basel picked up the violin meant for entertainment and quietly began to play.
Soon, the courtesan complained, "Are you interested in Miss Fini? Then why did you ask for me...?"
Fini was the courtesan serving in the room diagonally opposite.
Basel said calmly, "No, it's the man I want."
"Uh..." The courtesan's eyes lit up with gossip. "So, you're here catching a cheater?"
"Something like that. Keep a close watch."
"All right, Monsieur. I'll definitely help you deal with that 'two-timer'!"
Another hour passed. The courtesan, rubbing her aching lower back, suddenly exclaimed in a hushed voice, "Monsieur Miller, the door, the door opened!"
A cold glint flashed in Basel's eyes. Dropping the violin, he snatched his satchel from the coat rack, pushed the courtesan aside, and burst out the door.
Baron Walter was indulging in sweet nothings with Miss Fini, who was draped over him, when he suddenly felt an odd change in the light beside him. He turned and saw a man of about thirty-five or thirty-six glaring fiercely at him.
"Who are you? What do you want...?"
As he spoke, he saw the man pull a pistol from his leather bag, pointing it directly at his left chest. The latter half of his sentence instantly transformed into a terrified, "N-no, don't..."
In a voice only they could hear, Basel said, "You devil, don't think you can mistreat Camelia just because the French Crown Prince isn't here! Go confess to God!"
He decisively pulled the trigger. The flintlock clicked, the hammer striking the frizzen.
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