What happens if Napoleon Bonaparte is resurrected in a fantasy world to save a whole continent from a Demon Lord?
A moment after his death, the former ruler of Europe receives a visit from the mysterious Faucheur, who proposes him to reborn in anoth...
The air was clearing, and although the lowlands were still largely covered it was probably only a matter of minutes before the entire battlefield became visible.
"This is our chance!" Victor exclaimed. "Let us advance with our troops and crush them!"
"My Lord, perhaps we should wait until the fog lifts completely, or until news arrives from your uncle the General."
"I have no intention of allowing that stuffed shirt to take all the credit for this victory. Give the order to advance!"
Trying to silence the anxiety that didn't make him feel calm, Lefde could do nothing but obey, and preceded by a solemn roll of drums, most of the troops began to descend along the ridge.
The rebels responded by shooting arrows, but precisely because of the fog that had not yet risen further down, their shots were inaccurate, completely missing the target.
This invigorated the soldiers, who, spurred on by the officers, increasingly accelerated their pace, finally launching a real charge.
Like an unstoppable wave, they descended from Ratcliffe, ready to climb up the opposite hill impetuously.
Meanwhile the fog was dissipating there too, swept away by the north wind which, when Eirinn's troops had almost reached the foot of the climb, finally opened the way to the sun... revealing the great deception.
Twenty large cannons, each surrounded by three crewmembers and resting on light but sturdy wooden barrels, awaited their arrival, appearing from the mist like infernal spirits ready to claim their tribute of blood and souls.
The commanders didn't even have time to order the charging soldiers to stop.
"Fire!"
The roar of the grapeshot coming one after the other reached Victor and Lefde's headquarters before they could even realize what was happening; and such was the dismay that appeared in their eyes at the sight of hundreds of soldiers disembowelled like animals in a slaughterhouse that the General felt his heart stop in his chest.
"Curse! We had them under our noses the whole time!"
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"What do you mean, discuss the terms to surrender? I can't believe you're actually thinking about giving up!"
Come on Scalia, it's not complicated. I thought you were a bit smarter than this.
"I understand." Adrian said anticipating me. "This is bluffing."
"By now it seems clear to me who we are dealing with. Victor is a child seeking glory, and Philippe an ambitious nobleman who considers himself a great general. As long as they are there we won't have to worry about General Lefde, who instead seems to be a much more unpredictable guy."
"So this embassy would serve to make him believe that we are in trouble?" Septimus asked
"It's not exactly an act, actually. We're really in trouble, and a good general would be able to take advantage of it. But if we stimulate their ego by convincing them that they can achieve a quick victory, they will fall into our trap like fishes in a net. To make the play even more credible we will abandon Ratcliffe Hill to reposition ourselves here, on the other side of the plain."
