She changed Europe

Page 48

She gasped. Although as a woman she was used to menstruation, it was clear that her other self's "body" was not as healthy as her original one. This was naturally related to her lifestyle. It seemed she needed to find a way to help her regulate it.

"Knock, knock, knock!" A soft knock came from Gisela's door. Su Beiming sat up, first looking at the mirror not far away to confirm that he was maintaining Gisela's appearance without using any power, before speaking:

"I...I...I'm done with my work for today and need to rest. If there's no urgent military business, come back tomorrow." Su Beiming said seriously, mimicking Gisela's tone, to the person outside the door.

Given her personality, with a major battle looming, she didn't want her subordinates to see her in her current disheveled state. Magic users weren't just a group of powerful women; their presence in the army represented a belief, a banner that sustained soldiers as they fought relentlessly.

"Your Highness, it's me." A very familiar voice came from outside the door; it was clearly another maid he trusted most.

Her loyalty to Gisela was beyond question, which easily reminded Su Bei of her former maids... but sadly, they were all gone...

“Rita, didn’t I tell you to stay in Prague to assist Miss Hannah with the investment matters? Why did you come to Milan as well?” Su Beiming knew Gisela’s arrangements very well, so his words were more of a reprimand, because Rita had not obeyed the orders of her other self.

"Your Highness! Have you been staying up late again? And you haven't bathed, combed your hair, or changed your clothes for the past few days." Rita didn't answer Gisela's question but spoke to herself.

"Hmm?" Su Beiming hadn't expected that this girl was even more like him than he had imagined, actually ignoring his words.

"Click!" Seeing no further response, Rita pushed open the door and saw Prince Gisela sitting on the bed, looking at her with a serious expression.

For some reason, when Rita cast her concerned gaze at Gisela, she noticed that His Highness's demeanor was different today. To put it another way, His Highness now seemed a bit cold and distant, keeping his distance from others.

This easily made Rita think that her actions had angered the other person, and the thought of this made her feel uneasy and anxious.

"Your Highness, what's wrong..." After a brief moment of unease, she looked at Gisela's pale face again. Thinking of the prince's condition, she took a deep breath to calm herself down, frowned slightly, and slowly walked towards Gisela, wanting to check on her.

“There’s no need to come over. I know what you’re worried about. I’m fine. Since you’re here, go and rest. We can talk about it tomorrow.” Su Beiming straightened his back to make himself look more serious, but the maid in front of him suddenly sighed, sat down next to “Gisella” and raised her hand to touch her cheek.

Her eyes held a mixture of heartache and guilt, and after a moment she finally spoke:

“Your Highness! My dearest Your Highness! Why are you torturing yourself like this? Miss Tifa has already told me that you haven’t slept for three days. You’re so busy with work that you haven’t even had time to bathe. And I know you didn’t have an upset stomach, because I know your health condition very well.” Rita held Gisela in her arms, feeling her Highness’s soft body.

An embrace... This is something both familiar and strange, something I haven't experienced since Lingyun's death.

For some reason, Su Beiming raised an eyebrow, sighed, and said, "I'm sorry for making you worry." Sometimes, relationships between people are just that magical. On the one hand, out of consideration for your loved ones, you don't want them to worry too much about you. On the other hand, doing so makes them worry even more, since they are often the ones who care about you the most.

PS1: Su Beiming can do anything for others, and the relationship between the two has changed a lot in the remake 0v0!

Chapter 177 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 38 Going with the Flow (Seeking Votes)

“Your Highness, sometimes I wonder, I’ve watched you grow up day by day since I was a toddler, from a babbling toddler to a graceful young woman, but have I really ever truly understood you?” Seeing Rita so heartbroken before him, Su Beiming felt a pang of sadness in his heart.

"No! I don't understand you. You are someone I know well yet someone I don't know. I'm really afraid that one day Your Highness will abandon or distance yourself from someone like me who doesn't understand you."

I dare not speak of loving you, for I now realize my shortcomings. How can a selfish person restrain an eagle yearning to soar through the heavens? My wish is simple: I only wish to stay by your side forever, even if I am merely an observer, I want to witness Your Highness's ambition with my own eyes.” Rita had wanted to say these words for a long time, so long that her last words in the Vienna underground palace felt like a dream.

Time flies, and the years slip by in the blink of an eye. Her chances are numbered. Magic users can stay young forever, but she can't. She can't wait any longer.

“You…” Su Beiming looked at the maid before him, thinking of another version of himself, of that morning two years ago, their first encounter as master and servant. Vienna, Berlin, Flensburg, Prague, Milan. Their footsteps had already traversed half of Europe, their bond long since taken root.

She wanted to be a coward, but Su Beiming wouldn't. This time, let me give you a proper helping hand.

"What are you worried about, Miss Rita?" Su Beiming's lips curled up slightly as he brought his face close to hers, inhaling the rose-like fragrance emanating from the maid.

"Your Highness, what are you doing..." Rita found it hard to believe that her prince would be so proactive, and for a moment she was flustered, her usually poker face blushing slightly.

"It's nothing, I just think our hardworking maid deserves a reward from her master!" Before he finished speaking, Su Beiming pinned Rita down and launched an attack.

"Your Highness, you mustn't!" Rita cried out, trying to stop her, but her body seemed to be yielding to her.

Is it true that everyone who seems like a sadist has a masochistic heart inside? (Just kidding)

Regardless, she was very curious to see how her other self would escape this time! The thought of this made Su Beiming even happier.

-

Although the war has been raging for several weeks, no large-scale battles have broken out between the two warring countries of Sao and Austro. The two armies are still tacitly confronting each other along the east and west banks of the Ticino River, waiting for reinforcements to arrive. The minor skirmishes have caused some casualties, but all of this is still within a controllable range.

However, the situation, which should have continued for some time, was brought to an end when the main force of the Sardinian Kingdom suddenly attacked the Austrian army's important front-line stronghold of Obira on the west bank of the Ticino River, and a protracted war between the two sides officially began.

On August 3rd, the main force of the Sardinian Kingdom, led by Princess Misera, split into two groups. One group departed from Novara, crossed the Scythia River to the west, and then marched south along the river. Under cover of darkness, they crossed the Scythia River at its great bend to the east, completing a beautiful U-turn and approaching the weakest point in Aubila's defenses—the southwest. The other group, slightly later, marched south and arrived at the northeast of Aubila at dawn on the 5th, thus joining forces with the Sardinian army in the southwest to encircle Aubila.

It's not surprising that the Austrian commander was careless. The Cissia River, as the natural border between Lombardy and Piedmont, has always been a heavily defended area. Since the 19th century, no general had chosen to cross the river to attack Aubila. Moreover, the enemy was located to the north of Aubila, which led the Austrian commander to underestimate the defense along the river, providing an opportunity for the Sardinian army to sneak across.

Besides the local defense forces, over 10,000 Imperial Army soldiers were also besieged in Obira. It's important to understand that the Empire's extensive network of outposts on the west bank of the Ticino River, and its refusal to retreat, relied heavily on these 20,000-strong Imperial Army. Now, with half of the Imperial forces on the west bank surrounded, this had a significant impact on the Empire's strategic layout.

"First, inform Milan that His Highness and Grand Duke Aubila are besieged and need reinforcements. Second, send a message to Marshal Güle, telling him not to worry, that the soldiers at the front will fight to the death, and that I humbly request the Marshal to decide our next course of action." At this moment, the Imperial General Austin, trapped in the city, was pacing back and forth, calmly considering the two very different reports to be sent to the two lords.

"Sir, you're at this critical juncture, aren't you even a little bit nervous?" asked a somewhat obese middle-aged man next to General Austin anxiously, then took out a towel and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Lord Hank! Nervous? Why should we be nervous? As nobles, we must always remain composed and elegant. Do you want to associate with those lowly cowards?” Austin looked at the ridiculous reaction of the defense commander in front of him, his contempt evident in his eyes.

"This..." The middle-aged man was speechless in the face of the general's question, and just stood there blankly, feeling somewhat at a loss.

“Relax, we’re all in this together now, we can’t escape.” Austin suddenly patted the middle-aged man on the shoulder, his tone filled with a strange goodwill.

"My lord, why are the magical communication messages sent to the lords different?" This time, the question came from a lady who had been standing there silently. Lady Judy La Besica was the commander of the magical warrior legion of this Austrian army unit. As an outstanding graduate of the Vienna Royal Magical Academy, she had already obtained the title of commander of the 23rd Magical Armored Regiment at the young age of twenty-five.

“Judy, distant water cannot quench immediate thirst. Our General Julai is quite far from here. Right now, rather than relying on the Marshal, we should hope that our lovely Princess and the Grand Duke can lend a hand. In particular, the Princess's Bohemian Legion has nearly 30,000 men, and she herself is a magic user. I believe there is no better candidate than her at this time.” Austin’s tone was confident, clearly indicating that he was very confident in his opinion.

“Alright, let’s leave this topic aside for now. How about we discuss how to deploy our defenses, gentlemen?” Austin pointed to the map on the wall, which was indeed the best suggestion for most of those present.

PS1: Obira is located at the black dot. To its west is the Sessia River, and to its east is the Ticino River.

Chapter 178 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 39 The Wind Rises (Seeking Votes)

In the Sardinian army camp outside the city of Obira—

“Your Highness Missera, our Ifreia Legion is willing to be the main attacking force,” a burly soldier said, pushing aside his colleague and walking to the edge of the table closer to the map.

"Prime Minister Gat, your Ivrea Legion is the backbone of our army. I am deploying you to the south to guard against Austrian reinforcements." Misella tapped the hilt of his sword, issuing the order in an unquestionable tone. Ivrea, as the northernmost major town in the Piedmont region, is adjacent to the Savoy region. It has been under the rule of the Savoys since ancient times, making it the core area of ​​the Savoy family's rule.

Because of its location nestled against the Alps, the mountain people there are often more valiant and warlike, which is why the soldiers of Ivrea's legion have always been among the most elite troops in the Kingdom of Sardinia.

“But Your Highness, the soldiers want to participate in the attack.” General Gart still wanted to win more glory for his troops. Fifty thousand against ten thousand, they couldn’t let the prize slip away. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie, so his thinking was not surprising.

"Obey orders." Misera ignored the man's words and emphasized again in her cold tone. Such an important task as protecting the army's flank was entrusted to you, yet you only think about gaining merit. Are you fighting for the kingdom or for yourselves? Misera wanted to say this, but she successfully suppressed her displeasure.

The entire Kingdom of Sardinia is now filled with a sentiment called revenge. If she weren't a mage with enough prestige and power to suppress these arrogant guys, she really wouldn't know what extreme things these madmen would do.

"Next is the main attack mission; that's up to you." Misella looked at the officers of the Tuscan Legion, whose uniforms were somewhat uneven in quality, but whose morale was exceptionally high. As the name suggests, the Tuscan Legion was a volunteer force composed of a portion of the mutinous army of the Duchy of Tuscany and some Italian patriots who had fled.

Their lack of ambition for military achievements made them distinctly different from the Sardinian army. When Misera used them, he didn't need to consider factional balance; poor equipment could be compensated for by morale; and he didn't have to worry about the negative impact of losses on the kingdom. They were, in essence, the most useful cannon fodder and pawns imaginable. Of course, politically, they were portrayed as great national heroes, which suited the kingdom's interests.

"Your Highness!" The generals of the Sardinian Kingdom expressed their serious dissatisfaction.

"My mind is made up, there's no point in saying more." With that, Misera released a dangerous aura using her magic, instantly silencing the generals.

At this moment, one of Misera's adjutants entered the tent, whispered something in her ear, and then politely stepped aside to await further orders from His Highness.

"Gentlemen, you can discuss tomorrow's attack plan under General Rachel's guidance. I have other matters to attend to, so I'll be leaving now." After hastily giving these instructions, Missera hurriedly left the tent with her adjutant, leaving behind a group of generals who were unaware of the situation.

They were clearly unaware of what important matter could interrupt His Highness's ongoing meeting concerning the war that would determine the future of the kingdom and even the Italian nation.

Of course, Misella didn't care about the generals' thoughts at this time. After she left, she didn't go far. She simply walked into the private tent of Qi Er III Ling Si Jiu Qi, which was not far from the previous tent. At this time, a mysterious person wearing a black cloak had been sitting there waiting for her for a long time.

“You…” Misera squinted, looking at the mysterious person with great vigilance. Although she couldn’t see her face clearly, she could still tell from her figure that she was a woman.

"Leaves, some leaves scattered on the ground by the wind, that's what humans are." The cloaked figure's voice was icy, and when the word "human" was mentioned, Misera couldn't detect the slightest hint of humanity, as if she herself wasn't human.

"It comes from Homer's Iliad. But I'm more curious about why you're telling me this than its source." Homer's epics are classics that any European nobleman with a modicum of common sense would read. Knowing their source wouldn't be difficult for Misella. Obviously, this cloaked man couldn't possibly be doing this simply to show off his knowledge in front of her, because that would be far too foolish and laughable.

“The future Queen of the Apennines! Your crown will be forged in blood. Your enemy is not these remnants; she is further east, across the Ticino River, beyond Magenta. She is in Milan, and your destined foe has been waiting for you for a long time.” The cloaked figure stood up, raised her hands, and made a gesture as if holding a crown. Her tone was sincere, as devout as that of a martyr.

Misera stared directly into the piercing eyes beneath the cloaked man's mask, and for a moment, she, a mage, felt a sense of apprehension and fear.

"Rest assured, Princess Savoy, you don't need to go to Milan. I've already set the stage for you. Sharpen your sword so that the slaughter will be smoother, and strengthen your heart so that you can rise stronger in adversity. The dice of fate have already been rolled." The cloaked figure approached Misella step by step, while her adjutant gripped her gun, remaining vigilant.

"(The wind is rising; we must strive to survive.)"

"You French people really cause trouble everywhere you go..." Misella shook her head helplessly and sighed after hearing the standard French.

"Hush! Your Highness, France will always be your steadfast support. We feel the same way about the Austrians' oppression of you, and they will repay that pain with their blood." The cloaked man covered Misella's mouth with his index finger and then spoke to himself.

"Was this arranged by your Emperor?" Misella looked up at the hourglass in the room, her tone slightly questioning.

“Of course, His Majesty has devoted himself to the Italian people.” The cloaked figure bowed again to the princess before slowly leaving the tent, leaving only the two people in the room.

"Napoleon III!" Misella clenched her fist.

"Your Highness!" Seemingly sensing the solemnity of her lord's expression, the adjutant lowered her head, for she knew very well the meaning behind the message he had just conveyed... that he completely disregarded the Kingdom of Sardinia.

“You don’t need to say anything more. We are who we are, not that guy’s pawn in his schemes.” Misella took a deep breath and slammed her sword heavily on the ground. In truth, although they had reached an agreement, they were still harboring different dreams despite sharing the same bed…

PS1: Just posting some random stuff QAQ

Chapter 179 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 40 The Siege of Obira (Seeking Votes)

The behind-the-scenes power struggle remains unresolved, but the war on the front lines is already raging. From dawn on the 6th, the army of the Kingdom of Sardinia launched an artillery barrage against the Aubira army within the city.

Dozens of 12-pounder cannons and nearly a hundred 6-pounder cannons fired simultaneously, their muzzles spitting out flames and spewing out terrifying shells. The dust kicked up by the shelling and the smoke from the burning gunpowder instantly filled the entire artillery position.

The Kingdom of Sardinia did not originally have enough artillery to support such a large-scale attack. This was thanks to the generosity of Napoleon III, who intercepted the artillery that was to be transported from Provence to the North African colonies and transferred it to the Sardinian army by mortgaging national debt.

On the surface, he hoped that the Kingdom of Sardinia could buy time for the French army to assemble, but in reality, he wanted the Kingdom of Sardinia to fight the Austrians for a longer period of time, so that both sides would be weakened. This inadvertently created a situation where one side was willing to hit the other.

Meanwhile, on a certain position outside the Austrian city, soldiers huddled in their poorly dug fortifications, praying that artillery shells wouldn't land on their positions. Some of the new recruits, especially those going into battle for the first time, were so terrified they wet themselves, and Pete happened to be one of those recruits.

Logically speaking, a coward like him shouldn't be able to join the Imperial Defense Force, because unlike the local defense forces, the Defense Force is the most elite part of the hundreds of thousands of soldiers in the Empire. They have the best equipment and the best treatment. They are loyal and reliable, and should be the sharpest blade of the Habsburg dynasty.

Unfortunately, he was a child born into nobility. As the second son of a noble family, it was unrealistic for him to inherit the title and territory left by his father. Joining the army was the best way out for him. It was not difficult for his father to spend some money and pull some strings to send someone like him into the National Defense Army to get a prestigious education.

So why was he just an ordinary soldier? Because his father was only a minor honorary knight, just slightly more noble than a commoner, the kind of person who was neither the best nor the worst off.

"Kid, don't be nervous. Lie down properly and support yourself with your elbows and legs. Don't let your body touch the ground." Unlike Pete, who was so scared he wet his pants, Hans spoke calmly. Instead of lying down, he leaned against the mound of dirt, took out his pipe, took out some tobacco, and lit it with a match.

“Mr. Hans, aren’t you afraid at all!” Pete gripped his rifle tightly in his left hand and held the cross necklace to his chest with his right. These were the only two things he could rely on in the brutal battlefield.

"So what if you're nervous, or not? When death is meant to come, the shells will always find you, and when death doesn't want you, you won't die no matter what." Hans's tone was somewhat calm, and as if in response to his words, a shell whistled past their heads and exploded in an open area not far away.

"Don't you think that makes sense?" Hans joked, not forgetting to tease Pete, who swallowed hard in fright.

As a veteran who participated in the war more than 20 years ago, he had fought against the Kingdom of Sardinia. At that time, the army of the Kingdom of Sardinia was weak and its strength was worrying. The great country of northern Italy at that time had only 43,000 soldiers. Now, the standing army of the Kingdom of Sardinia has nearly 50,000.

More than twenty years have passed. Although the empire planned to send 15 troops this time, several weeks have passed. Apart from the princess's 2 troops arriving in Milan, the rest of the troops are still on their way. When facing the enemy, the mighty empire not only has no advantage in numbers but is also scattered across the vast Lombardy plain. It is not surprising that the troops are surrounded.

“Mr. Hans is quite magnanimous, but I can’t die here. My fiancée and my mother are waiting for me to return home in glory.” Pete bit his chapped lips. Because of his nervousness, he had already finished drinking all the water in the bottle.

"Don't say that, kid. There's a saying among us veterans: when you're looking forward to a happy future, you're not far from death." After all, when you're looking forward to it, that's when you're most careless, and to survive, you have to be careful and vigilant at all times.

"Here, don't wet your pants again." Hans tossed his water bottle to Pete, who was standing in front of him. Looking at the timid but somewhat straightforward young man, he couldn't help but think of his son who had died in battle. Not long ago, his son had been buried as an ordinary soldier in the Imperial Expeditionary Force on the cold, icy snowfields of Jutland.

"Loyal to the country, loyal to His Majesty the Emperor, is that it?" Hans spat out a mouthful of his pipe, then slowly exhaled the stale air from his lungs. Despite the sweltering summer heat, he felt a refreshing coolness.

"Mr. Hans and the others have stopped shelling!" Pete looked up at the distant hilltop that had been ablaze with fire, but now it was dark.

"Has the cannons stopped?" Hans shook his pipe, extinguished the flame, and then jumped off the pile of earth, not forgetting to pick up the rifle beside him.

"Get ready for battle. The brats are coming. Don't die before this old man like me." Hans's tone was joking, but his furrowed brows silently told the boy in front of him that a fierce battle was about to begin.

The bombardment by the Kingdom of Sardinia did not last long. Due to poor preliminary reconnaissance, the bombardment was initially very blind, wasting a lot of shells and achieving little. However, launching an attack after such bombardment was an unavoidable fact.

"Magic armor, cover! Fix bayonets!" The officer's command echoed across the Sardinian army's lines. Soldiers in dark green uniforms emerged from their cover, drew bayonets from their sheaths, and mounted them on their rifles. Meanwhile, the magic armor units, painted in green, white, and red, were also ready and poised to join the attack.

The blue flag of the Kingdom of Sardinia, bearing the coat of arms of the Savoy family, was raised simultaneously with the tricolor flag that Cavour had already designed for the unified Kingdom of Italy. The time for revenge that the kingdom's army had been waiting for had arrived.

"Offensiva!" (Attack!)

The shouts of battle echoed across the entire Obira Plain, and the soldiers of both armies couldn't help but feel their hearts in their throats.

The 403 Hill, where Hans and Pete were located, was a low hill southwest of the city of Obira. Although low, it was still a valuable high ground on the otherwise flat plain. If the Kingdom of Sardinia controlled the 403 Hill, their artillery positions could cover the entire city, making it a strategically vital location!

PS1: I have a bad cold QAQ

Chapter 180 Irises Wither in the Alps: Capter 41 Long Live Savoy!

The commander of the Aubila army was no fool. After noticing this Achilles' heel in the southwest, he reserved a guard force of nearly 2,000 infantrymen and a magical armor battalion to defend the hill. It should be noted that the entire garrison of Aubila City only numbered about 15,000.

"Mr. Hans, they're here! There must be at least several thousand of them." As a new recruit, Pete didn't have a precise sense of the battlefield. What appeared to be a massive, scattered attack was actually only a few hundred men. It's important to understand how foolish and pointless it would be to wage war in this era with soldiers tightly packed together and driven into battle, like in the age of cold weapons.

After all, with the development of the Industrial Revolution, the killing efficiency of firearms is increasing exponentially.

Unlike his focus on the numerous enemy troops, Hans frowned, concentrating entirely on the slow-moving yet incredibly powerful lumps of iron—magic armor. As true war machines, these monsters, which only magic users could wield, were unlike powerful but fragile cannons. These creatures could not only move, but also unleash devastating attacks on the enemy with their magic-powered cannons.

Destroying them often requires incurring huge casualties, since these monsters won't just sit idly by.

"Kid! See those moving metal lumps? Don't expose yourself to them, or you'll die a horrible death." Hans sternly warned Pete while keeping his eyes fixed on the explosives nearby. If absolutely necessary, there were plenty of heroes among the soldiers willing to sacrifice their lives to destroy the enemy's magical armor and protect their comrades.

Clearly, Hans was that kind of person. After all, in his view, he had lived long enough, many of his former comrades were no longer alive, his son had died on the battlefield, and he himself had long been prepared to sacrifice himself. But the young man in front of him was not worth it. He had a family, a fiancée, and was still young, with a bright future ahead of him. If his son were still alive, he would probably be just like him...

"Raise your guns!" Using cover, Imperial officers directed their soldiers to aim their weapons at the approaching enemy. As a frontline fighting force, this unit had been prioritized for equipping with the new Skoda 1869 rifle.

The Škoda 1869 was a breech-loading rifle developed at the end of 1869 by the Škoda factory under the leadership of Princess Gisela. Due to its excellent performance, it won the imperial competition for new guns. Furthermore, because the Škoda Arms Factory under Princess Gisela relinquished its technological monopoly and delegated the production license to various weapons factories within the empire, this rifle, which had only been developed for six months, was able to be equipped to the imperial army at an unprecedented speed.

This near-profit-giving move made the Skoda factory stand out among military-owned enterprises within the empire for a time, and further enhanced its reputation.

The design of the firearm was not complicated; in fact, the Gisela was based on the French Chassé rifle.

Unlike the Dreyse rifle currently in service with Prussia, this rifle has a rubber gas seal on the bolt surface to prevent gas leakage. Although this method is not perfect, as the rubber shrinks and hardens due to the gas after each shot and eventually loses its function, requiring frequent replacement, it is still much better than Prussia's pitiful firing pin.