Grande Armée in Another World: The Eagle and the Queen

Chapter 35 - A Blood-Soaked Victory

"Your Excellency, the initial report has been compiled," Berthier announced as he entered the tent of the headquarters, holding the report. His superior, who diligently inspects the soldiers after battle, was now lying on a simple folding bed, wrapped in bandages with a piece of wood against his chest. Nearby were his adjutant Eugène, the escort commander Bessières, and several other staff members.

"Let me see."

Bonaparte said, momentarily grimacing in pain as he sat up to receive the report. His bluish-gray eyes, reminiscent of burnt-out embers, narrowed as he scrutinized every word.

"Expected," Napoleon muttered in a calm voice, as if receiving a graded test paper under the candlelit glow of the report.

Among the roughly 33.000 men who participated in the battle, approximately 2.000 were confirmed dead, 1.000 wounded, and 2.500 missing at present. Although they had lost about 16 percent of their forces, the majority of casualties were concentrated among the conscripts from Coronation Hill. Of the deceased, 1.500 were natives of Tallgrassland. It was likely that almost all of the missing belonged to this category. The losses among French soldiers were less than 500. As for the enemy, they had lost 2.000 cavalrymen and an equal number of infantrymen. By now, General Dumas' cavalry would be chasing down the fleeing enemy. When accounting for deserters and pursuit, the enemy's losses would be close to 10.000. The enemy had fled and failed to break the siege of the King's Landing. It could be deemed an overwhelming victory...

"I have something to discuss with Berthier. The rest of you may leave," Bonaparte instructed, handing the report back. The others who had been present left the tent, leaving only Berthier behind.

. . .

"It's a failure," Bonaparte sighed.

Five hundred French soldiers were lost. Four cannons were lost, and several units had run out of ammunition. Procuring ammunition was not impossible, but they wouldn't be able to catch up. There were no prospects for the production of cannons either. As for the soldiers, there was no way to compensate for their loss. Five hundred irreplaceable individuals. Five hundred who would never be replenished...

"The conscripts lacked both training and equipment. We underestimated the power of the enemy cavalry charge... Perhaps there could have been other options."

"That may be true. However, we might have faced even greater failures."

"Yes, it's all in the past now. Order the commanders of each unit to prepare for the next battle. Which units suffered light casualties?"

"Divisions Desaix and Reynier. However, both divisions are low in ammunition."

"Then redistribute the remaining ammunition from other divisions. Have Desaix command two divisions and the cavalry. Pursue with ten thousand. Chase down the enemy as much as possible to prevent regrouping. Also, procure supplies from the villages in the direction of Axeland and send them to the main force."

"Yes, sir."

Berthier quickly jotted down Bonaparte's orders.

"What about Cloumille? How is she doing?"

"The queen is meeting with the captured nobles. We hope to extract some information or supplies from them..."

"Right. Nobility affairs are her domain, so it would be inappropriate for me to intervene. We don't even know their interests. Let's leave it to her."

"...By the way, Supreme Commander, how are your injuries?"

"It hurts a lot."

"At least you're not in critical condition. That's a relief."

"In Italy... at Arcole, when we crossed the bridge, Muiron died. He was my friend. You lose something if you fail. This time, it's just my bones that are broken, so I'm fortunate..."

"........."

At that moment, there was suddenly a commotion outside, and the tent flaps were forcefully pulled open, letting in a gust of wind. Berthier instinctively reached for his saber at the unexpected intrusion.

"Bonaparte! I heard you were injured, are you okay!?"

Ignoring Eugène's forcible attempt to hold him back, Colonel Lannes, who led the conscript unit, entered. The young man, with his neatly trimmed black hair and brown eyes full of vigor, approached the commander and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Ouch! Stop that!" Bonaparte winced, swatting away Lannes' arm.

"Ah, sorry. But when I heard that you, who never get hit by bullets, were injured, I was really worried. Perhaps your lucky star has abandoned you."

"Lucky star? I am that star. You fought well on the hill. Without you, we couldn't have defended the hill while leading the conscripts."

"Half of the credit belongs to General Rampon, and the square formation was broken. It was my fault for not training enough, nearly ruining your victory."

"There's no need to apologize. You did well."

"Is that so? Then let's leave it at that."

Bonaparte relaxed his furrowed brow and engaged in friendly conversation with Lannes. From his usual difficult expression, he transformed into a childlike demeanor, occasionally showing a relaxed smile.

"...Well, Supreme Commander, I'll take my leave," Berthier said, without waiting for a response, and left the tent with a single word.

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- Nagagutsu Kumage Bōshi