Chapter 703: All-Out Bet
Korezenikov wasn't surprised by Poland's surrender.
Poland had suffered heavy casualties on the front lines; surrender was inevitable. He just hadn't expected the King himself to come and offer it.
Usually, the opposing Polish commander would handle such matters, with the King merely signing off. After all, it was a humiliation that would go down in history.
Piattoli's expression was somewhat flustered. He clasped his hands. "In truth, His Majesty the King's situation is not ideal.
"As you know, His Majesty and His Imperial Majesty the Tsar have... *ahem*... a certain acquaintance.
"From the start, His Majesty was unwilling to antagonize the mighty Russia. However, those individuals in the assembly, in their ambition for greater power, forced the army to wage war against you. This was absolutely not His Majesty's will."
Korezenikov snorted coldly. "Then His Majesty should first deal with the troubles in your assembly."
"His Majesty intends to do just that," Piattoli nodded. "To curb the assembly, abolish the Constitution, restore the rights of the nobility, and revert everything to its former state. But for all this, His Majesty will require the assistance of the great Russia."
Korezenikov's eyes narrowed. 'If we can use the Polish King to deal with their assembly, we can spark a Polish civil war. Conquering Poland would certainly be much easier then.'
He glanced at the Polish King's secretary. "So, how does His Majesty propose to proceed?"
"Surrender," Piattoli said without hesitation. "As soon as His Majesty surrenders to your esteemed nation, Poland will swiftly cease all resistance. Those individuals in the assembly stand no chance against your formidable army."
Korezenikov suddenly burst into laughter. "Do you think I'm so easily fooled? Don't imagine I'm unaware that you merely seek to delay my advance.
"Go back and tell Stanisław II not to play clever games. I will personally lead my army all the way to Warsaw!"
Piattoli pleaded, almost desperately, "General, I swear, this is no trick.
"His Majesty will show you absolute sincerity, and then, in the most humble manner, will beg for His Imperial Majesty the Tsar's forgiveness."
"Sincerity?" Korezenikov scoffed. "Is it by sending you to make empty promises, or by dispatching some cheap document to Saint Petersburg?"
"No, there are still generals in the army loyal to His Majesty. You will soon witness the very troops that offended you bowing before you. Of course, His Majesty will require a little more time—three days. In three days, you will see the results."
As Korezenikov hesitated, Piattoli added, "Of course, if you remain unconvinced of His Majesty's sincerity, then His Majesty will have no choice but to discuss this matter with General Morkov. Though Kiev is a little farther from Saint Petersburg."
Korezenikov frowned.
'Whoever receives the Polish King's surrender will undoubtedly become the greatest hero of the Polish-Russian War.'
'General Morkov was already leading the main offensive; if he were to seize this credit as well, I would be practically ignored in this war.'
He recalled his chief of staff mentioning that the army's cannonball reserves were low that morning. Perhaps waiting three days would simply serve as an opportunity to replenish logistical supplies.
'Just three days. It wouldn't significantly impact the course of the war.'
"Very well, I will wait three days," Korezenikov nodded, then threatened, "But if you dare to deceive me, I will make you pay a terrible price."
Three days later.
In a small village controlled by the Russian army, Stanisław II descended from his carriage. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sunlight, muttering to himself, 'Three days gone. Warsaw still needs 37 days.'
He spotted the Russian general, surrounded by guards, in the distance. Immediately, he offered a humble smile and spoke in Russian, "I recall we met at a ball in the Winter Palace, esteemed General Korezenikov. You are still as distinguished as ever."
Korezenikov nodded in acknowledgment. "Indeed, Your Majesty. I even listened to your performance."
"So, where is your sincerity? Don't just hand me a document with only your signature."
Stanisław II gestured towards the carriage following behind. "General Bielak, please, you may disembark."
The door of the rear carriage opened, and a square-faced, blond-haired middle-aged man stepped out first, followed by three more officers.
Korezenikov's pupils instantly constricted.
The man at the very front was none other than Bielak, the Supreme Commander of the Polish garrison in Minsk, and those behind him were high-ranking officers under his command.
Bielak approached, forcing a smile, and saluted with his hat. "It is an honor to meet you here, General Korezenikov.
"Your art of command fills us with immense admiration. Were it not for the compulsion of those individuals in the assembly, we would never have wished to fight against your army.
"His Majesty has granted us an opportunity, and I shall order the Minsk army to surrender to you."
One of the Polish officers behind him added, "Our army can even serve as your vanguard, helping you capture Pinsk, all the way to Warsaw!"
Korezenikov was ecstatic. 'The Polish King is actually serious!' If these nearly 30,000 Polish troops surrendered before him, he could march directly to Pinsk.
'This rate of advance would far surpass that fellow Morkov's!'
He immediately smiled. "Excellent. Then please instruct your soldiers to proceed to Borisov at once. I will arrange for them to surrender their arms there."
"My pleasure, General," Bielak bowed slightly, then showed a troubled expression. "However, please forgive me, I still have a small matter to resolve on my end."
"Oh?"
"Previously, my men killed many brave Russian soldiers, all forced by this wretched war. But they are very concerned about retaliation..."
"I can guarantee their safety."
Bielak nodded, then continued, "To be frank, they hope to receive a letter of pardon from His Imperial Majesty the Tsar.
"Yes, I tried to persuade them, but you know, let alone the soldiers, even the junior officers haven't seen much of the world. In their minds, only the Tsar's decree truly counts."
Korezenikov stroked the hilt of his saber, sneering, "Hmph, it seems you're still trying to deceive me."
"No, that's not it," Bielak insisted urgently. "You see, I've brought ample proof of sincerity."
He gestured into the distance. "You just asked my army to lay down their arms. I've brought the disarmed portion. It's right by the forest, about one kilometer away."
Just then, a Russian cavalryman rode up and whispered something to Korezenikov.
The general's brow instantly smoothed. "Seventeen wagons?"
"Yes, General."
Bielak quickly added, "Inside are flintlock muskets, tents, and uniforms. There are more behind; please inspect them."
Stanisław II approached at the opportune moment, speaking very politely, "You see, General, this is my sincerity.
"After this, I will personally travel to Saint Petersburg to present the instrument of surrender to His Imperial Majesty the Tsar. Once His Majesty grants the order of pardon, Bielak's entire army will come under your command."
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