Descending On France 1780
Chapter 106: Magician of the 100 Battlefields

Chapter 106: Magician of the 100 Battlefields

On this day, the villages near the battlefield, and even Conte City itself, dozens of miles away from the battlefield, were filled with dispirited Rebel Army soldiers.

They burst into every open tavern, throwing all the copper coins they had for alcohol, then drinking wildly as if there was no tomorrow.

It seemed that only by consuming the horse urine-like homebrewed alcohol could they suppress the fear within their hearts.

People curiously asked them what had happened? Where’s the main force of the Rebels? Where’s Colonel Donald?

Whenever someone around them asked such questions, these soldiers would tremble like startled sparrows, looking around fearfully, then utter the events with a shaky voice:

They would say: "It was a demon, a bloodthirsty demon leading the blue demons, swallowing our entire army whole."

They would also say that the demon possessed magic that could make an entire army disappear in the fields only to leap out from nowhere suddenly.

They even claimed that those blue demons, each armed with a cannon, liked to fire at people’s faces, blinking an eye and the fine army was reduced to unlucky devils missing arms and legs.

Some even asserted resolutely: "No amount of armies could defeat such a demonic force, and the entire Conte Region is doomed, even if the Pope from Rome came, it would be of no use."

Under the exaggeration of these people, the entire Conte Region shivered; those who had once thrown stones at the Patriots were now quietly preparing tricolor flags at home.

To make tricolor flags, the blue and red fabrics in Conte City sold out.

Of course, there were some more rational among the defeated soldiers; they described the events like this: "You know, the one leading the National Guard, a hero from the Seven Years’ War, who has received the Legion of Honor medal, I’ve seen it with my own eyes, a huge Cross Medal! It’s said that he captured six Prussian Military Flags in Prussia before earning this honor!"

Gradually, the Commander of the National Guard, coming to suppress the rebellion, acquired many terrifying titles, such as the Prussian Military Flag Collector, the War God of Bastille, and so on and on.

There were even those who glorified the commander’s ambush that annihilated the Rebel Army, hailing him as a sensational new moniker: the Magician of the Battlefield!

No one remembered that not so long before, they had mockingly laughed at him for being the son of a Leatherworker.

The entire Contea trembled, nervously awaiting the arrival of the son of the Leatherworker, now notorious, to trample the rebellious regions with his victorious might.

They didn’t have to wait long.

**

On the third day of the battle, Anning’s troops just finished cleaning up the battlefield.

No help for it, there were too many things, and Anning had fewer than two thousand men; there were so many bodies on the battlefield that just burying them would take a day, let alone carefully scavenging for spoils of war.

After cleaning up the battlefield, every soldier in Anning’s little troupe was carrying two guns, creating quite an odd sight.

While clearing the battlefield, Christina’s Cavalry roamed everywhere scouting for information.

It seemed that there were no more organized Rebel forces throughout the Conte Region.

Thus, Anning decided that once the battlefield was tidied up and the hard-won spoils were all picked up, they would march into Conte City.

Her troops had won a battle after all, and could not sleep in stables again; with so many monasteries in Conte, they deserved to find a good one for a thorough rest.

Moreover, according to the legislation passed by the National Assembly, all Church property had been confiscated, so naturally the Church’s properties in the Conte Region were all property of the National Assembly, so why shouldn’t the National Guard manage them for a while?

Having made up her mind, Anning set off for Conte City early in the day.

Walking on the road, Anning listened to the march played by the military band and suddenly felt that her troops lacked a song to sing in unison while on the march.

Troops with high morale usually sing songs as they march, such as "When eating vegetables go for the hearts, in war fight with the new Sixth Army," or "Striding across the *** River full of vim and vigor".

This unit of mine only marches, listening to music that sounds like it’s from some Young Pioneer corps, a bit lackluster.

Unfortunately, "La Marseillaise" hasn’t been composed yet, and when Anning set out from Paris, she even specifically looked for a composer to try to expedite the creation of "La Marseillaise," but to no avail.

Now there really isn’t any good song to sing, surely Anning can’t start singing "The Internationale must be realized" herself, right?

That would be a bit too early.

Riding her horse, Anning was pondering these distractions when Christina and Clarice came galloping over and saluted her, "Reporting to Captain, there are no signs of the enemy all the way to Conte City. We have entered Conte City and informed the bishop there about our army’s impending arrival."

Anning: "The Bishop of Conte didn’t flee? He is the prime criminal of the rebellion; we definitely need to capture him and bring him to Paris for a public trial."

Christina shrugged her shoulders: "He seems resigned to his fate, perhaps he thinks if he fled we would massacre and burn the city like the rebel army does in towns loyal to the National Assembly."

Anning: "That reminds me. Russell! Order the entire army to forbid looting in Conte City, keep your hands to yourselves, and behave!"

"Yes! Keep your hands to yourselves, behave!"

The officers had got the hang of passing messages and Anning’s orders were quickly reiterated and spread throughout the entire army.

Christina: "I’ll scout ahead again, just in case of any deception."

"Mm, off you go." Anning waved her hand.

Christina and Clarice immediately turned and galloped away.

After this period of acclimation, the cavalry had become accustomed to carrying out reconnaissance missions and were no longer incessantly clamoring to charge and capture enemy flags like at the beginning.

A few hours later, Conte City appeared in the distance.

When the National Guard’s tricolor flag was seen, every monastery in Conte started ringing their bells, and a cacophony of bell tolls filled the air.

Anning leading the column, saw a Cardinal dressed in red accompanied by many Priests in ornate white robes standing in front of the gates of Conte City.

Conte City had no walls, just a gate.

Anning spurred her horse forward, reaching the Priests first before the rest of the troops.

The Cardinal, with the utmost respect, greeted Anning: "I am Hart, the Cardinal of this diocese and the leader of this rebellion. May I ask if you are Mr. Andy Frost, known as ’The Magician of the Battlefield’?"

Anning was taken aback, what the heck, ’The Magician of the Battlefield’? Me?

Isn’t that Yang Weili’s nickname?! That’s not an auspicious nickname at all, Yang Weili died from a gunshot wound through the artery in his leg!

Please don’t call me that!

"Greetings, Your Eminence, the business of magic is overrated," Anning paused for a moment before getting straight to the point, "I am here on orders to suppress the rebellion. Aside from you, who has already surrendered, who else are the leaders of the rebellion?"

Hart pointed at the people beside him with his hand: "All the bishops of the diocese are here; we are the leaders. Let us assume the blame for the crimes, please do not harm the citizens of Conte."

Anning thought to herself, not bad, quite earnest.

"Rest assured, we are a civilized force, not bandits like the rebel army." Anning paused, "However, we require quarters, so vacate your most substantial monastery for us."