“Yes, General!”
Colonel Haydn saluted with his hat and galloped away to convey the orders to the messenger.
General Wilmze pulled the curtain down and smiled at General Ernst, the Bavarian Army commander sitting opposite him, “The Marquis of Walschstaet’s troops were still in Cologne yesterday; he certainly didn’t expect us to arrive in Liege so quickly.”
The Marquis of Walschstaet was none other than the Prussian General Blucher, who had once led his troops to intervene in the Dutch Patriot Party uprising. He was currently the vanguard of the Duke of Brunswick.
Ernst nodded in agreement, “Even if the Prussian Army starts a forced march immediately, they will encounter Colonel Muzil’s blockade at Luneburg. We have at least a week to deal with the rebels in Liege.”
Thanks to logistical support from France—of course, to outsiders, France only claimed it was a trade of ordinary food and iron goods—Austrian forces hardly carried any logistical burdens, so they could march rapidly and arrive in the Southern Netherlands earlier than the Prussians, despite the greater distance.
General Wilmze leaned back in his chair, appearing quite relaxed: “You overestimate those rebels. According to the intelligence reports sent a few days ago, they have less than 4,000 men, and most of them are peasants who have never fought in wars. It should not take too long to crush them.”
“My plan is to surround Brabant before the Prussians arrive. If the Duke of Brunswick insists on getting involved in this war, then you will undertake the encirclement, and I will lead the main force to turn around and have a decisive battle with the Prussians.”
His operational deployment was quite reasonable.
The Prussians, in their effort to reinforce the rebels in Brabant, would certainly hurry on their way, becoming less vigilant. During this process, the Austrian Army might find an opportunity to launch an ambush. Even if they weren’t lucky enough to successfully ambush, at the very least, they could choose a battlefield with terrain that favored them for the final showdown.
General Wilmze then mentioned a “rumor” he had heard: “Do you know anything about the exchange of Lower Bavaria for the Southern Netherlands, a matter involving Emperor Ottodor?”
General Ernst replied, “It seems that the French people are involved as notaries to ensure that neither side reneges, so this time the land exchange is likely to happen.”
“Then after the rebels surrender, you won’t need to return to Munich,” General Wilmze said with a smile, “We’ll welcome your King right here in Brussels. After that, you will at least get a double promotion.”
In their eyes, the rabble of the Southern Netherlands was nothing but walking military exploits that would be over by the end of the month at most.
As they indulged in their visions of the future, Colonel Muzil’s Austrian brigade of 5,000 soldiers was facing a frustrating situation in Luneburg.
A cavalry scout group discovered spikes being installed near a village. As they moved forward to inquire, a priest holding a pitchfork, followed by dozens of peasants, blocked their path.
The cavalry captain sneered disdainfully and ordered his men to prepare to charge through these death-seeking peasants.
From his experience, the horses would be about ten or more meters away when these people would scatter in fear.
Eleven horsemen lightly picked up their reins and spurred their horses forward, then simultaneously drew their swords.
Just as they were about to charge, a volley of gunfire erupted from behind them. A horse’s thigh was hit, tumbling to the ground with its rider.
The priest immediately roared and was the first to charge, eyes bulging, with the peasants wielding sticks and farm tools following suit towards the Austrian cavalry.
The Austrians became panicked, not expecting these peasants to dare launch an attack.
In just a moment of hesitation, the pitchfork-wielding priest had already closed to about seventy or eighty meters from them.
The cavalry captain swung his sword frantically forward, shouting loudly, “Advance! Trot!”
“Gallop!”
“Prepare to engage!”
The ten horsemen charged at the ragged peasants like brutal beasts, closing in to less than ten meters from the leading priest. Just when they thought the priest would dodge the warhorses, he thrust his pitchfork at them instead.
The priest facing the cavalry reacted with skilled movements, pulling the reins to the left and skimming past the side of the pitchfork. Then, his saber lightly crossed the priest’s chest, the blade beaming through and drawing a great deal of blood.
The peasants behind, spurred on by the priest’s encouragement, did not shrink back either, wielding their crude weapons at the Austrian cavalry.
However, the gap between them and professional soldiers was just too vast. After sacrificing seven or eight lives, they merely succeeded in slowing down the cavalry.
Without the priest’s leadership, the remaining peasants were finally crushed in spirit by the bloodshed and corpses, beginning to abandon their farm tools and screaming as they fled into the bushes on either side.
Just as the Austrian cavalry breathed a sigh of relief, gunshots rang out from behind them once again, this time much closer than before.
The cavalry commander turned his head to look and his face immediately became grave—there were sixteen or seventeen figures holding flintlock guns, formed in a line, cutting off their retreat.
He gritted his teeth, ordering his men to turn around and prepare to charge back to report to the main force when the previously fleeing peasants turned back around too, holding farm tools and glaring at them with baleful eyes…
Half an hour later, most of the Austrian cavalry unit had been killed by flintlock guns and clubs, with only one managing to escape the village with severe injuries.
Meanwhile, the Muzil Corps had just chosen a campsite and was in the midst of pitching tents when suddenly, hundreds of South Netherlanders surged out from a dried-up riverbed nearby, firing their guns pell-mell at the Austrians and setting several fires in the camp before slipping into the darkening twilight and vanishing down the riverbed.
By the time the Austrians gave chase, the enemy had already used their familiarity with the terrain to disappear without a trace.
Though this attack only resulted in the death of a dozen Austrian soldiers, it forced them to remain on high alert all night, preventing them from resting properly.
Similar situations were cropping up all over Luneburg, with Protestant priests taking on the significant task of organizing the populace to attack the Austrian army—they had only received two thousand flintlock guns from Netherlands half a month ago, yet dared to strike everywhere, causing the Austrians endless trouble.
Because of these constant harassments, the Muzil Corps’s march had become as slow as a snail’s pace. It was not until three days later that they finally arrived near the city of Luneburg.
The cavalry sent by Colonel Muzil to deliver a message to General Wilmze, except for one who had lost his way, had all been intercepted and killed by the rebels. Even as General Wilmze engaged the main forces with the Liege rebels, he was still unaware of the situation in Luneburg.
Read latest chapters on empire
In Liege, the situation for the Austrians also wasn’t as optimistic as anticipated.
From a high ground, General Wilmze saw through his telescope that the Southern Netherlands Rebels instantly collapsed under the charge of his skirmishers, and he couldn’t help but curl a smile at the corner of his mouth.
These rabble had no combat experience whatsoever, placing their line formation on an inclined hillock, attempting to defend from a high position.
However, the Austrian army had launched a powerful attack from the left side of the slope, from the side where the terrain was higher.
The South Netherlanders, already at a disadvantage in equipment and numbers, were unsurprisingly defeated.
Just as General Wilmze ordered the cavalry to pursue the fleeing enemy, he saw the South Netherlanders swiftly disappear into the woods not far from the hillock.
He frowned immediately, feeling as disgusted as if he had swallowed a fly—this exact scenario had occurred just the day before. Those rebels were obviously very familiar with the terrain, and by the time his cavalry gave chase, the rebels had already scattered and fled, leaving less than two hundred rebels to be captured.
Although he had achieved an overwhelming victory in this battle, from deploying troops to probing the attack, and then breaking through the enemy lines, nearly a day had already passed.
After resting up from the battle, it would be at least noon the next day before he could continue the march.
These despicable South Netherlanders had delayed him for a full three days, and there were still nearly ten miles to go before reaching the town of Liege.
Just yesterday, the French had sent envoys to inquire why the supplies delivered to southern Liege had not been received and had instead been largely intercepted by the rebels.
[Note 1] Maria Ludovica was the daughter of Charles III and the sister of the current King of Spain, Charles IV. Both the Spanish Royal Family and the French Royal Family belong to the close-knit Bourbon family.