Grande Armée in Another World: The Eagle and the Queen

Chapter 44 - Red Rite

Bonaparte and Cloumille returned to the camp of the army besieging the King's Landing two days later. The weather had cleared up, and a bright blue sky stretched out all around.

The two walked alongside each other. They moved among the French soldiers who had crawled out of their tents, gathered around the fires, and were preparing breakfast or shaving their beards. Bonaparte checked their expressions and attire, ensuring their health and morale. Despite receiving daily reports, practical inspections were indispensable. The soldiers felt reassured seeing their Supreme Commander walking among them.

Bonaparte called out to one of the passing soldiers. "Soldier, what happened to your shoes?"

He was barefoot.

"They got torn in the previous battle, sir. I don't have replacements..."

The soldier coughed and wiped his nose.

"Are you catching a cold?"

"Perhaps, sir. But I can still fight."

"I see. I'll arrange for shoes immediately. You may go."

The soldier saluted and hurried away. Bonaparte pondered. It was unlikely that only that soldier lacked shoes, and he probably wasn't the only one catching a cold. While the soldiers' morale was high, prolonged encampment and lack of supplies seemed to be deteriorating their health.

"It feels a bit colder now."

"That's because of the rain. Please take care not to catch a cold. We'll send warm sheepskin blankets later."

"I have the one I received earlier. That's enough."

"We should send thicker ones."

"Indeed... Is there winter in this world? Does it get cold?"

"In another two months or so, you'll see your breath turn white, and ice will form on water buckets."

"Does it snow?"

"It lightly accumulates on some days, but not to the extent of immobilizing."

Bonaparte rested his right hand, unlinked from Cloumille, on his chin, lost in thought. While snow didn't accumulate much, he couldn't keep the soldiers living in tents forever as temperatures dropped. They needed proper shelter with roofs and walls, and he also wanted to let them rest in the city. While soldiers could endure, overly relying on their endurance might not be wise. Perhaps it was time to move on to capturing the royal capital.

"Supreme Commander."

Suddenly, a familiar voice brought Bonaparte back to reality. Eugène, his adjutant, had arrived.

"All division commanders have gathered at the headquarters."

Bonaparte glanced toward Cloumille, whose fiery red eyes quietly returned his gaze.

"Alright."

. . .

The not-so-spacious headquarters felt uncomfortable due to the crowdedness, the heat emitted by people, and the damp air from the rain. Around the small table were Bonaparte and Cloumille at the center, to the right were Chief of Staff Berthier, Division Commanders Kléber, Bon, Cavalry Commander Dumas, and Artillery Commander Dommartin among Bonaparte's generals, and to the left were the faces of the nobles allied with Cloumille. Bonaparte vaguely remembered who was who, mentally labeling their faces with generic titles like "Count So-and-so" or "Duke What's-his-name." However, beneath their names were detailed listings of the soldiers each noble commanded, such as "800 infantry, 200 cavalry," or "1000 infantry, 100 cavalry." Berthier report would surely clarify their identities.