Descending On France 1780
Chapter 199 - 192 Marshals? My brother wants to be Caesar, why would he care about one Marshal?

Chapter 199: 192 Marshals? My brother wants to be Caesar, why would he care about one Marshal?

Condore was utterly terrified: "What? What do you mean?"

Lasalle: "What, you don’t understand French?"

"No, I understand, I mean..."

"Understand yet still ask me what I mean?" Lasalle looked at Condore in disbelief, "Is there any specialized term in my words that you can’t comprehend? Even if you don’t understand my words, you should at least understand the meaning of throwing a glove, right?"

Condore: "No, I... I am a civilized person, I do not engage in such crude activities."

Lasalle laughed heartily then snatched back his glove: "Forget it, dueling with someone like you would be an insult to my honor."

Condore breathed a sigh of relief, his expression relaxing.

Then in that moment, Lasalle drew his saber and placed it against Condore’s neck: "You don’t deserve a duel; you deserve to die here like a dog."

Although Condore was securely bound and couldn’t move, he managed to express his feelings with urine, as a small wet stain appeared on his trousers and expanded visibly.

Seeing this, Lasalle, initially stern and furious, burst into laughter again, and put away his saber: "I’ve changed my mind. Perhaps it’s a better idea to send such trash back to the Holy Roman Emperor. Killing waste like you would tarnish my reputation."

Marshal Boliue, having witnessed the whole process, commented: "Condore, you really should have accepted the duel. Had you won, you’d be a hero of our army. Had you lost... at least you would have died honorably. Now, you’ve become the laughingstock of all Austrian Nobles."

Condore turned pale: "I was threatened! He threatened me!"

Boliue turned to Lasalle, saying, "Could you possibly not bring this disgrace elsewhere? I don’t want to see him near my cell."

Lasalle: "Of course, that’s no problem. How did you even appoint such a person as your Chief of Staff?"

Boliue shook his head helplessly: "Such is the state of my Holy Roman Free Nation. Among those under me, only Vukcevic is somewhat competent."

Lasalle: "Is that so? Well then, no wonder you lost. I think General would really appreciate a good chat with you."

**

Anning met Marshal Boliue at five in the afternoon.

Upon meeting, Marshal Boliue immediately unstrapped his Marshal’s scepter and handed it forward with both hands.

Anning took the scepter, admiringly inspecting it—befitting the opulence of the Holy Roman property.

Anning fiddled with the double-headed eagle engraved at the top of the scepter, completely captivated.

Bertier initially coughed frantically, but Anning ignored him until Bertier finally spoke up: "General! You should return the scepter to the Marshal."

Anning was stunned: "Ah? Should I? Isn’t it enough just to return the sword, and keep the rest?"

Anning knew that in this era, navies would return the defeated’s sword after a battle and invite them for a drink.

So he was prepared to return the sword, unfortunately, the Marshal gave his staff first.

And since the scepter was so beautiful, Anning was tempted to keep it.

Bertier looked unimpressed: "Well... It’s not a big issue if you want to keep it, but it might make others think poorly of you."

Anning: "Then never mind. Sorry, Marshal Boliue, I got a bit carried away. You know, after the revolution, France abolished the rank of Marshal."

Boliue: "That’s truly a pity, otherwise with your military achievements, you definitely would have earned the rank of Marshal. You should be the greatest military strategist of our time, and I willingly admit defeat."

Just after Boliue finished speaking, Napoleon chimed in: "Marshal? Are you joking, old man! Andy—General Frost, he is destined to be Caesar!"

Upon hearing Napoleon’s words, Anning felt a chill run down his spine.

Damn, could it be that the script from now on is about Napoleon supporting me?

No, impossible, with the ambition Napoleon has, he surely wants to do it himself.

But then Anning thought, although Caesar is called Emperor Caesar, in reality, he never admitted he was a king, and he was assassinated by Brutus and others while holding the position of Life Dictator.

Could this be the future script? And then Napoleon takes the place of Octavian?

Thinking of this, Anning suddenly remembered he had a cheat, and with this cheat in hand, to mimic Brutus and assassinate him would still require some skill.

Fortunately, fortunately...

Napoleon: "General? What’s wrong with you?"

Anning then realized he had been distracted, he quickly coughed a few times to cover it, and then solemnly returned the Marshal’s Staff to Marshal Boliue.

Boliue: "Thank you for your generosity. I will now retire and return home, and will no longer participate in any military operations against France. I swear upon my family crest!"

Anning nodded: "We believe you."

This was the common practice of this era, after capturing nobles officers, they would make them swear not to participate in military operations against their country, then release them after receiving a ransom.

Speaking of this tradition in Europe, it also has a certain connection with the Italian commanders; there was a period in Europe where noble wars were essentially a war game, resembling real skirmishing but where no one actually died.

For a long time, European nobles would hire Italian mercenaries to fight their wars.

Once pushed into a desperate situation, the Italian commanders would persuade their employers to surrender gracefully and pay a ransom.

Thus, a lot of medieval wars didn’t actually result in many deaths, with so many nobles in Europe, given their frequency of waging wars, casualties would have caused extinction early on.

Fuler in his "War Guide," refers to these times of European conflicts as the Italian Commanders’ Wars.

But this nobility-like warfare was no longer viable in more modern times. Specifically, it became impractical from the period of the Hussite Wars.

A great number of nobles died in these wars, which like the Black Death, weakened the feudal lords and promoted the Renaissance and Enlightenment thought.

However, in some places, traces of that nobility-like warfare can still be seen.

At this moment, Anning returning the Marshal’s Scepter to Boliue was also considered a trace.

Anning: "Take the Marshal to rest, I still have to deal with Von Wumze."

Boliue hesitated for a moment, then asked: "Has Marshal Von Wumze made a move?"

Anning truthfully replied: "Our cavalry has spotted Marshal Von Wumze’s troops on both sides of Lake Garda, but there’s just been heavy snow in the direction of the Alpine Mountains, so Von Wumze’s troops won’t be able to advance quickly."

Boliue looked resigned, and with a long sigh said: "Ah, if only I had held out a few more days... Never mind, forget it. Good luck to you."

Anning: "Wars aren’t won by luck. But still, thank you."