Descending On France 1780
Chapter 198 - 191 Lasalle wants to learn from the General.

Chapter 198: 191 Lasalle wants to learn from the General.

Upon receiving the news of Andy Frost’s breakthrough in the defense line, Marshal Boliue let out a long sigh.

He took out his ornate Marshal’s scepter and laid it on the commander’s desk.

The officers all looked at the Marshal, and Chief of Staff Condore said, "It’s not over yet, we can retreat into Mantua Fortress!"

Boliue asked, "Have you been to Mantua Fortress?"

Condore hesitated a little, "I... I have seen the design plans of the fortress!"

Boliue sighed, "Alright, you haven’t been there, you don’t know what that fortress is like. Mantua Fortress is very suitable for defense; in fact, it’s too suitable for defense. Even if the French Army surrounds the fortress with seventy or eighty thousand men, the five thousand inside can hold out for a long time.

"Do you know why this fortress is so defensible? Because it’s on a peninsula, and the isthmus that connects it to the mainland is extremely narrow, only allowing a few thousand men to deploy. Even if the enemy brings tens of thousands, only five thousand can attack the fortress; the rest can only cheer and wave flags.

"But this is a limitation of Mantua Fortress; while it’s defensible, it’s completely unsuitable for offense. The enemy can block tens of thousands with just a small force inside the fortress.

"No, we can’t retreat into the fortress. To do so means surrendering our fate to another general who would come to lift the siege!"

Boliue spoke at length in one breath and then paused to catch his breath.

The old Marshal was, after all, over seventy and could very well be described as worn out; such a long speech was a considerable strain on his body.

After finally catching his breath, Marshal Boliue continued, "I cannot accept this kind of thing, cannot accept my fate being in someone else’s hands! No, never! This would be a disgrace as a soldier!"

Condore curled his lip, no longer suggesting going to Mantua Fortress, but turned his attention to the Mincio River, "Damn this dry season, otherwise, this river wouldn’t have been so easily crossed by that Frost guy!"

Vukcevic stared at Condore, snorted through his nostrils, "Don’t speak as if the Mincio River is so easy to cross for everyone now. I bet if you were in command, our soldiers crossing the river would only become fish food!"

Condore angrily retorted, "What did you say? How dare you!"

Boliue interjected, "Enough! Stop it! Before the French come to strip us of our titles, we’re already starting infighting. Show some restraint, think of the duties and etiquette of nobles!"

The two then shut their mouths.

Boliue pointed at Vukcevic, "Vukcevic, you take your troops and retreat east across the Adige River!"

Vukcevic shook his head, "It’s impossible. My troops were reformed after being routed at the Po River line; there’s no way to lead them in good order to retreat to the western side of the Adige River. It would be better for us to go north, into the Adige River Valley, and link up with Marshal Von Wumze’s forces..."

Boliue shook his head, "No, our center has been breached by the French Army. If you go north now, you will encounter the French. Head east, reach Vicenza, and then assist Marshal Von Wumze as the situation demands."

Vukcevic was about to accept the assignment when he suddenly remembered something and asked, "What about you? Aren’t you planning to retreat with us?"

Boliue smiled bitterly, "After three consecutive defeats to General Frost, I no longer have the face to meet His Majesty Franz II. My battle ends here; surrendering to the French Army at this time should still allow me to retain a shred of dignity."

Condore immediately cried out, "No! Marshal! That madman hanged the last noble officer who opposed him! He’s a damn republican; he will hang every noble!"

Vukcevic sneered, "If you want to run, just run, don’t use the Marshal as an excuse."

Condore retorted, "I am thinking for the Empire, the Empire cannot lose an experienced Marshal like you!"

Vukcevic drew his sword, pointing the tip at Condore, "Stop your damn nonsense and get out. If the Empire ever needs someone like you for protection, it might as well be better off destroyed!"

Condore swore under his breath and turned to leave the commander’s house.

The few division and brigade commanders who actually held military power in the room tacitly maintained silence.

Only Vukcevic, unconcerned, said, "Since the Marshal is staying behind as bait for the predators, I have no reason not to make good use of this opportunity. I must go now, General. I wish you good health."

The Marshal waved his hand.

Vukcevic strode out of the room.

The Marshal glanced at the remaining men and said loudly, "If you want to run, then run quickly! Just leave me alone to face this by myself."

The officers looked at each other uncertainly, not knowing who started it, but eventually they all ran towards the main gate.

Just then, the sound of cavalry bugles came from outside the gate.

Immediately after, earth-shattering cries of battle rose, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of hooves.

It was the crisp clinking of horseshoes against the cobblestone streets.

Outside was chaos, filled with the neighing of horses and the screams of those being cut down.

The officers had reached the door, but upon hearing the commotion, they stopped in their tracks and turned to look expectantly back at Marshal Boullière.

Finally, the door was kicked open with a thud, and in strode an officer with a splendid beard, holding a pipe.

"Oh," he said, "with all these maps, this must be at least a division headquarters!"

Then he saw Boullière.

"Wow," the officer took a puff from his pipe, blowing a smoke ring, "with that beard, you look quite old; you must be Marshal Boullière! Hahaha, never expected your headquarters to be exactly where the little Corsican predicted! I am General Frost’s cavalry commander, Antoine Louis Charles Lasalle! I have been ordered by the General to capture you!"

Boullière stood up and straightened his collar: "I am Marshal Boullière of the Holy Roman Empire, take me to your General."

Lasalle: "Of course, I will take you to him. My mission is to capture you! Last time you slipped away at the Po River Battlefield, it was because the General sent me to block the bridge at Lodi. Did you know that? Otherwise, you would have been his prisoner right then and there!"

Boullière: "The fact is you’ve only caught me now; enough talk, take me to see General Frost."

Lasalle: "Alright, old man, can you ride a horse? I mean, at your age, I’m afraid the horse might shake you too much! Maybe I should arrange a carriage for you!"

The marshal nodded: "If there is a carriage, then please do."

Lasalle gave a few quick orders, and then his subordinate ran off in a flash.

Lasalle then respectfully opened the door for the marshal, making a gesture for him to exit.

The marshal walked out of the room at a leisurely pace, bathing in the winter sunlight, and at that moment, a few cavalrymen came over with Condore in custody.

The leading cavalry officer saluted Lasalle: "Report, while scouting towards the direction of the Adige River, we caught this fellow."

Marshal Boullière was taken aback and hurriedly checked whether Vukcevic had also been captured.

Fortunately, Vukcevic’s face was not among those of the cavalrymen.

Meanwhile, Condore yelled out: "I am a noble; how dare you tie me up like firewood?"

Lasalle burst out laughing: "Oh ho ho, a noble! The General respects only one kind of noble, and that is those who serve in his own Knightly Legion of Honor! Do you know how many nobles the General has hanged?"

Condore roared: "You barbarians, country bumpkins! We are nobles of the Holy Roman Empire! Does Rome know this?"

Lasalle: "You must not have read the works of Mr. Voltaire. Mr. Voltaire is the theoretical founder of the French Revolution. Do you know what he said about that Habsburg thing? He said, ’This rotten thing is neither holy, nor Roman, nor even an empire.’ Roman nobles are supposed to wear purple, I mean, the real Rome. What is this thing you’re wearing?"

Condore was completely unable to retort, and after struggling for a long time, his face turned red.

Boullière: "So you really should spend some time reading books between attending various balls and salons, Condore."

Condore, ignoring everything, continued shouting: "I am a noble from Vienna! My grandfather was..."

Lasalle removed his glove and threw it in Condore’s face.

"You keep saying you’re a noble, then I’ll give you a chance for a noble duel! Honestly, I would like to just chop your head off, but I’m not sure if the General would be upset. I don’t want to anger him. So, let’s have a duel! Someone, unbind him!"

Lasalle’s deputy hesitated: "This... wouldn’t be appropriate, right?"

Lasalle said in a carefree manner: "Don’t worry! The General, the Noble Killer, has dueled with countless nobles and thoroughly enjoys the process! He will certainly praise my decision!"