Chapter 95
Chapter 95
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 095
Chapter Title: Full-Scale War
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Since the declaration of war, not a single day had passed peacefully in Munich.
Bold as he had been in stepping forward, Elector Albrecht of Bavaria still felt the chill of fear.
Elector Philipp of the Palatinate couldn't shake the nagging doubt of whether this was right for a man his age.
And then there was Friedrich Heinrich von Seckendorff, the Bavarian Army Field Marshal bearing all their hopes.
Their goal was clear: somehow push west from Munich, cross the Rhine, and link up with the French army advancing eastward.
Once their supply lines connected, the French could march straight to Vienna, and Munich's safety would be assured.
Of course, Austria wasn't blind to this simple fact, so their aim would be to block the Bavarian-Palantine alliance's movements.
But.
"Break through! Augsburg is just ahead—Ulm will be right there!"
"General! The enemy is falling back!"
"No rush. Advance steadily, step by step!"
The nearly 40,000-strong Bavarian-Palantine allied forces were surprisingly brushing aside the Austrian resistance with ease and pressing forward.
Field Marshal Seckendorff of Bavaria coolly analyzed the situation.
No matter how he looked at it, there was only one conclusion.
He, the Bavarian Field Marshal, was more capable than the Austrian commander.
He had originally served in the Austrian army but had transferred to Bavaria a few years earlier at the invitation of Charles VI.
At over sixty, he had long resented Joseph being elevated simply because he was Prince Eugene's disciple.
Eugene had undeniable achievements that the entire Holy Roman Empire had to acknowledge, but what had Joseph ever shown?
His victories against France were just dancing on the stage Eugene had set.
The war against the Ottomans? He was confident he could have crushed those weaklings even if he'd been in command.
The reason Joseph and that upstart Moritz had risen so high boiled down to one thing.
The much younger Franz had stuffed his key positions with young puppets he could control at will.
"But look at the situation now. Anyone can see I should have been Austria's Field Marshal."
"Of course, sir. How could a young pup like Joseph match your vast experience?"
"We're lucky you came to Bavaria, Marshal."
They had been hesitant at first, questioning their chances, but as the war unfolded as planned, everyone in the tent shared similar thoughts.
'What? The Austrians aren't that impressive.'
'Are we actually stronger than we thought?'
'Could we win if things keep going this smoothly?'
It wasn't mere hype—Seckendorff was convinced that if he could reach Ulm unscathed, the war was more than half won.
And now, having stripped everything bare to form this main force, they had finally merged with reinforcements from the Palatinate, swelling their ranks to over 40,000.
Their supply lines were nearly perfect, and the mercenaries barely secured by bribing Bavaria, the Palatinate, and other electorates had all assembled safely.
What was the basic principle of warfare against a coalition?
Prevent the enemy's main forces from uniting.
Cut their supply lines.
Secure those two, and even a ragtag coalition would fall apart.
But right now, Austria was failing at both.
They weren't completely idle, though.
Joseph had tried to tackle both at once by splitting his forces.
But the unit sent to intercept the Palatinate midway had botched its operation due to poor preparation, and the ones targeting supplies had been entirely repelled.
"The gold plating hiding behind Eugene's name is peeling off."
Having already abandoned nearly 20,000 troops up north, the enemy was short on numbers for now.
They couldn't aggressively block the road to Ulm, and if they tried, it would be fine to fight.
The 40,000 Bavarian-Palantine troops under Seckendorff advanced smoothly across the vast plains.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Confirmed: the Bavarian army under Seckendorff has linked up with the Palatinate forces!"
"If they continue on their current path, they'll pass through the Lechfeld Plain south of Augsburg!"
"Enemy strength estimated between 40,000 and 41,000."
Just as planned.
Joseph, in charge of the western front, gazed down at the markers on the map and let out a satisfied smile.
"Our status?"
"33,000 total forces can intercept on the Lechfeld Plain. As ordered, the 17,000 in the rear have split into two groups to cut off the enemy's retreat in advance."
"The smoother it goes, the more dangerous it gets. Stay vigilant until the end."
"Yes, sir!"
By now, Moritz facing the French, and he himself too.
Their strategy from the start was blatantly obvious, almost transparent.
Lure the largest possible enemy force into a massive pitched battle.
Normally, the more troops you gathered for a pitched battle, the better.
The textbook approach was to disrupt enemy assembly or cut supplies to whittle them down first.
But Joseph and Moritz had flipped that script entirely.
To put it simply, the core of Austria's plan—framed by Eugene before his death and fleshed out by Joseph and Moritz—was this:
-Pretend to block them, but don't actually do it.
-Let them think they have a solid chance.
Of course, completely ignoring them would tip off even fools that something was wrong.
The trick was to feign resistance while naturally drawing them in.
Joseph had executed this flawlessly.
"Once the enemy enters the plain, don't engage immediately—give them time to form up properly. But don't wait too long or they'll get suspicious. We can pretend we're waiting for reinforcements from the north."
"How will you deploy the troops?"
"New rifle units: 6,000 on the left flank, 4,000 in the center. The right flank won't clash directly, so just maintain distance. Concentrate all cavalry on the left as well."
"Annihilate and envelop their right flank."
On paper, for the plains clash: 33,000 allies versus over 40,000 enemies.
To create this setup, they'd done every feint imaginable—splitting their own forces, deliberately losing skirmishes, and pulling back repeatedly.
"Phew... Pretending to be this incompetent is harder than I thought. I figured it'd be easy at first."
"It had to look natural, not just stupid."
"I wonder if Moritz is managing well. The French should be sharper than the Bavarians."
"It might even be easier. The sharper they are, the more overconfident."
"True enough."
Eugene had predicted that once you handed the enemy their ideal conditions, they'd rarely avoid a pitched battle barring major surprises.
This wasn't just high odds—it was sharp insight into enemy psychology.
Once war began, both sides entered with their own surefire path to victory.
No idiot stakes everything on a hopeless fight.
Create favorable conditions, and they'd think, 'We can win this.'
Then strike at the perfect moment and place.
The 17,000 sent north under the pretense of blocking reinforcements would seal the retreat after the battle and siege Munich.
He'd known Seckendorff from his Austrian days—no real grudge, but war was war.
Personal feelings had no place.
"Pass the word to the entire army: We annihilate the enemy on the Lechfeld Plain."
The Austrians visibly dug in on the plain, signaling they wouldn't let the Bavarians reach Ulm.
Seeing this, the Bavarians stretched out their lines, gladly accepting the invitation.
The moment of truth would reveal whose judgment was right.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "After this battle, we link up with the French and hit the Austrians from behind! Victory is ours!"
"Wooooah!"
The officers roared in response to Commander Seckendorff's mighty bellow.
Bavarian morale soared.
Not just high—it pierced the heavens, enough to topple the sun.
"Wooooah!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
When the battle truly began, things looked fine at first.
Bavarian artillery fired first, and the Austrians hesitated, pulling back bit by bit.
With nearly 10,000 more troops, they just needed to press on.
"Advance! Keep advancing! Crush their lines!"
Under artillery cover, their troops moved forward, forcing the enemy to form ranks and approach.
Once in effective range, they'd trade volleys.
Then flank with cavalry... Huh?
"What the hell? Why are they already taking aim?"
He sensed something off the moment the enemy muzzles turned toward them.
Muskets maxed out at 52-63 klafters (100-120m).
So why aim from so far away?
Misjudged distance? No, it was nearly double.
Luck? Some fired early, but this was too far—even hits were impossible...
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Seckendorff's thoughts shattered under the thunderous enemy volley.
He should have laughed at the wasted shots, but in three seconds, his mind went blank.
"Aaaagh!"
"Enemy fire!"
"Fire back! Fire!"
"Idiot! You'll miss from here!"
"Then how are they hitting us?!"
The allied right flank, exposed to the enemy left, collapsed in chaos.
Officers couldn't regroup or command, worsening the panic.
Seckendorff, watching from a vantage, was no different.
"...Huh?"
What?
Why shoot from there?
Why are we getting hit here?
This defied common sense so utterly he wondered if he was dreaming.
Ah, right. Obsessed with war, he was having hyper-realistic nightmares from stress.
Even dreams had limits, though—this was too absurd.
Smack!
To wake from the nightmare, Seckendorff slapped his cheek hard.
"Marshal!"
His guards panicked, but he didn't care.
Big trouble.
He needed to wake up... but his cheek stung.
No way this was real?
Smack!
Slapping himself again, Seckendorff clutched his swelling cheek and muttered.
"Scheiße..."
We're fucked. No other words came to mind.