Chapter 74
Chapter 74
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 074
Chapter Title: Speed Battle
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Phew... It's really over."
Hans Joachim von Zieten, the Prussian cavalry commander, steadied his ragged breathing and took a long drag from his victory cigarette.
Delicious. He'd felt it last time too, but he had to wonder if there was any tobacco in the world that tasted as good as this triumph.
'But still...'
He gazed at the commander basking in the praise of his officers and the cheers of the soldiers in the distance.
'Austria can't be taken lightly. Even after Eugene, they're still producing talents like this. Or wait... wasn't he originally with the French army?'
It was true—he'd felt a twinge of unease at first when he learned that the general who'd been crushed by their king, the one who'd commanded the French forces, would be taking overall command.
But Moritz had astounded even the Prussian commanders with his tactics, capturing Banja Luka ahead of schedule.
Moritz crossed his mind: if this man had been the supreme commander in the decisive battle against the French, they might not have won so easily.
Whatever the case, he was an enemy of the past. Now he was their commander—could there be a sturdier ally?
"General, what an astonishing result. Well done, sir."
"No, it's thanks to you all following my orders to the letter. From the way you moved this time, I can well imagine the grueling training you've endured. We owe His Majesty Friedrich our thanks for lending us such elite troops."
"Even the sharpest blade is useless in the hands of a novice. And to craft such a flawless strategy on the fly from the battlefield reports? That's all your doing, General."
Just as Franz in Vienna had been shocked by how things had resolved there, Austria's original goal hadn't been all-out war but isolating Banja Luka and forcing its surrender.
But once Joseph easily seized Niš and confirmed the enemy's scouts weren't being reinforced, Moritz boldly played his hand.
With Niš fallen, the Ottomans had no choice but to defend Banja Luka at all costs.
That meant they'd send a relief force, and it would have to march the shortest route straight to Banja Luka.
Their eyes and ears—the cavalry—had been wiped out, after all.
So what if they pulled back forces in advance and set an ambush? They could turn the tables and devour the relief army instead.
The original plan to fortify the outer fortresses around Banja Luka and block the relief force's joining was scrapped on the spot.
Moritz instead feigned a retreat of his entire force toward the main army, kicking up massive clouds of dust, and even dismantled many of the outer fortresses under construction.
But look closely: they'd only torn down the palisades. The passages inside narrowed, guaranteeing a bottleneck for any assaulting force.
The Banja Luka relief army, oblivious to this, rushed through what they thought were abandoned fortresses to reach the city faster.
They plunged straight into a kill zone, trapped on all sides—front, back, left, right—in total chaos.
A handful of command staff barely escaped on horseback via mountain paths after the battle, but most were captured. The city, learning of the relief force's annihilation, lost all will to fight.
It opened its gates and surrendered, costing the Ottomans complete control of north-central Balkans.
"When this news reaches Vienna, His Highness Franz will be delighted."
"He trusted me, so I repay it with results. That's a soldier's duty, isn't it?"
Moritz gazed contentedly at the skyline of Banja Luka, now flying Austrian and Prussian banners.
"The day I lay this entire campaign at his feet isn't far off."
"Indeed. Seizing two strategic hubs will force the enemy's hand."
"Yes. They can't cling to their southern defensive line anymore. Lose here or Niš, and they'd have to pull their border line way back. No way they'd allow that."
They'd have to come at least once, no question. From the enemy's view, striking Niš would be easier than Banja Luka.
"General! General! Urgent orders from General Joseph. If the enemy marches up, he'll intercept and crush them on the Niš plain. He asks you to form a detachment to seal off their left flank and rear."
Moritz's lips curled into a sharp grin at the messenger's report.
"Tell him I'm not sending a detachment—I'll send the main force. We'll eat them here and push to Sofia."
Matching wits with a commander of equal caliber made everything click perfectly, snowballing without a single snag.
Those kebab-munchers could die and resurrect a hundred times and never match this pace.
The elation he'd never felt in France.
War was starting to feel fun.
'Your Highness, wait for me. I'll gift you not just the Adriatic, but Greece itself.'
The two generals called Franz's swords had no intention of settling for this victory.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Not just Niš, but even Banja Luka had fallen—the shocking news spread.
The Ottoman Empire faced the initial reckoning of their boldly declared holy war.
"The relief force wiped out too?"
"Who was it? Who said we had to send a relief force!"
"N-not me! No, didn't you say we had to save at least Banja Luka?"
"That didn't mean throw the whole army away!"
Austria had once been mocked as the Empire of Beggars, but the Ottomans weren't much different.
They'd reorganized after the last defeat, steeling themselves, but it was like swapping pancreatic cancer for leukemia—the "Sick Man of Europe" label stuck.
They had made preparations, of course. It wasn't without a plan.
-When the Austrians came south, Tatar raiders would disrupt their supplies, dragging the war into attrition to wear them down.
Plug Banja Luka, and the enemy's supply lines would bottleneck through Morava. They'd falter quickly from shortages.
Strike then, and even if Niš was lost, they could reclaim it easily.
It looked like a perfect winning strategy before the war. But open the lid?
Niš and Banja Luka fell in a month. Raiders annihilated. Enemy supply lines triple-reinforced, impossible to sever.
They couldn't just stand by, though.
"Give them any more key points in Rumelia—the Balkans—and Sofia's truly at risk. We must counterattack."
"Wait. Shouldn't we cut our losses? Rushing in on emotion now could cost us tens of thousands."
"If you think about it, it's the Tatars' fault for not sending cavalry. This war started because of them anyway..."
"Can't be helped. They're in even worse shape with the Russians."
"That's why we should cut our losses!"
"Cut losses until we hand over Sofia? Our necks too?"
"Their crappy strategy played us. That Joseph guy's barely over thirty—a kid—and we handed him our cavalry and cities!"
"Enough! Stop it!"
Muhsinzade Abdullah Pasha, summoned as relief pitcher to handle the crisis, had arrived in Sofia with the ad hoc grand vizier post and a special mission to retake Niš.
"We'll march north with the army."
"Grand Vizier!"
"Now's the time to cut losses!"
"To where? Until Sofia falls? Hand over all of Greece too?"
Abdullah Pasha knew the gravity well.
If this were south of Constantinople, mostly Muslim, they could afford to trade space for time.
But here, there were far too many cowering Christians.
The moment notions of Ottoman weakness or liberation took root, rebels could sprout anywhere.
"Niš... If we just retake Niš, we hold the border as is. That way, we can report to His Majesty we've done our utmost to resolve this crisis."
The commanders grasped the implication.
Drag it out, and it'd be the Emperor Mahmud's axe, not the enemy's, claiming their heads.
They needed at least one win to claim competence.
If the enemy commanders were Eugene, the Holy Roman legend, or Friedrich, France's slayer, maybe. But two young Austrian upstarts? That pushed them harder.
"Two months! We retake Niš in two months!"
Then pretend a draw, stall negotiations with Austria while rebuilding cavalry, and disrupt supplies again.
"B-but, Grand Vizier. They say that Joseph leading the Austrians bathes in the blood of good Muslims—a madman. And Franz who appointed him drinks Muslim blood instead of wine three meals a day—a true lunatic."
"...If we're captured, our blood might end up on their tables..."
"If they're incarnations of Satan, we must purge them! Fear not! This is jihad!"
Butchers not worth keeping alive? All the more reason not to retreat.
Tucking tail here would draw charges of cowering before the enemy's infamy.
No jumping off this hurtling carriage.
The war hurtled toward a short, decisive clash due to unforeseen variables.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ As reports flooded in from the front, Eugene insisted on expanding the war's scale.
"War rides on momentum. Especially with Your Highness framing this as liberating Eastern Christianity—it's working wonders. Did you foresee this and pull in the Pope?"
"...Of course. All part of my calculations."
No way he'd admit it was just insurance against Britain and France meddling.
Anyway, things favored them, locals gained hope for independence—win-win, right?
Claim it was his grand vision, and no one would complain.
"Then you know how to fan these flames higher?"
"...Pardon?"
"One more decisive victory, and the Ottomans lose grip on the Balkans. Spread rumors that the war's architect—who planned it to free all Balkan faiths—has joined the front. Imagine the local fervor."
It'd ignite, of course. Ottomans would tear their hair out.
Europe's top general had unmatched creativity.
Wait—that architect was him?
"I... have no issue going to the front, but I promised Theresia after the last war I'd never go anywhere dangerous again."
"Just go somewhere safe."
"And our honeymoon isn't even over."
"Perfect propaganda fodder."
His logic was airtight—no refuting it. So he explained everything to Theresia.
"Hmm~ I see."
She tilted her head, beaming an angelic smile.
So beautiful... so terrifying.
"I'm not going to the battlefield—just the safe rear for a few propaganda speeches. You know how effective agitation and fabrication can be..."
"Reminds me of someone saying something similar last time. Promised never to go anywhere dangerous again."
"Theresia, after living this life, 'never again' feels unrealistic. Can I revise to three... no, four times never again?"
He knew it sounded absurd, but Eugene was right—this chance was too precious to miss.
Once they spanned to Greece, no one could slander them as a German chieftain's Rome pretenders.
"Was that plan from your head?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah! Of course, it was Prince Eugene's recommended strategy. He insisted no one else fit, begged me—how could I refuse? Even with my influence, he's the Empire's top military expert. Right?"
"Aha~ I see."
He averted his eyes from Theresia's narrowing gaze.
If you devised the plan, own the responsibility. That's mature adulthood.
Figure out the dodge yourself. You're Europe's greatest strategist.