Klaus scanned the crowd, asking the men about the princes, but none could recall seeing them. The chaos of battle had consumed their attention, and the princes' escape had gone unnoticed. The generals, weary and war-beaten despite being in their fifties, looked far older than their years. They gathered to discuss terms with Klaus, proposing that if they repelled Napoleon as planned, Otto would allow them to retire peacefully and grant them land in the countryside outside the city. Klaus nodded, promising to plead their case to Otto.
"Otto loves his men, especially his soldiers," Klaus began, his voice steady and reassuring. "He intended to bring you to his side peacefully, without the need for bloodshed. He has already mobilized the army back in Bavaria and will be more than happy to have you join his ranks."
The generals exchanged glances, then shook Klaus's hand, one by one, agreeing to join Otto's army. After all, they were Bavarian at heart. They returned to their men and addressed them, their authority unquestioned. No one dared to oppose their decision.
***
Otto stood atop the castle, his gaze fixed on the horizon. In the distance, he could see an army of roughly 20,000 soldiers. Their uniforms bore Belgian insignias, but some also displayed Danish seals, indicating a combined force. "Only one man could unite the Danes and Belgians in war against us," his prime minister remarked grimly. "Napoleon Bonaparte." The name sent a shiver through Otto, and he stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
Everyone feared the Lion of Europe, and now Napoleon had thrown everything into this campaign. Otto's mind raced as he considered the fate of Bavaria. The enemy army was about an hour away, advancing at a deliberate pace, taunting him rather than charging outright.
As Otto pondered his next move, a messenger burst onto the scene, gasping for breath. "Your Majesty!" the man panted, struggling to speak. "The Corsican and Italian armies—they're coming from the south! They're three hours away if they maintain their current pace. I saw them, Your Majesty. Tens of thousands strong. We stand no chance as we are."
Otto's eyes narrowed. "Have they crossed the river yet?" he asked urgently.
"According to my calculations, they'll reach the river in about 45 minutes," the messenger replied.
"How fast can you get there?" Otto pressed.
"I have a shortcut that takes half an hour, maybe less if I push it."
"What about with a horse?"
"Twenty minutes, Your Majesty."
"Good," Otto said, his mind racing. "Go to the lieutenants downstairs and tell them to send 20 of the King's special forces to the river. Split into two groups. The first group will go to the lower side and burn both wooden bridges. Ensure no one can cross the river easily. The water is shallow and slow, but it will take them at least 40 minutes to cross. They'll likely stop to rest, drink, and tend to their horses. That will buy us time."
"What about the second group, Your Majesty?" the messenger asked impatiently.
"I'm getting to that," Otto replied. "The second group will go upstream with four cannons. They'll wait for a signal—use the colored alarm arrows. Once the signal is given, they'll fire the cannons to break the dam and flood the river. Any soldiers still crossing will be swept away, and their numbers will be reduced. Additionally, the upstream area is infested with crocodiles, bred by the previous king for their skins and to execute traitors. That should take care of the rest."
The prime minister's eyes widened in admiration. "Your Majesty, you are a genius!"
"Now go!" Otto barked. "They'll be here soon. Make sure everything goes as planned. Hurry!"
The messenger rushed downstairs and found Lieutenant Kain, the commander of the kingdom's fastest cavalry. Known for their speed, these horsemen rode steeds bred to be 50% faster than ordinary battle horses. The messenger quickly relayed Otto's orders, and within moments, 40 men with two chariots carrying cannons were on their way.
"What's the plan?" Kain asked as they rode.
"I'll explain on the way. Let's move!" the messenger replied.
The first group reached the bridge just as the distant sound of marching feet grew louder. The enemy was close. They quickly set fire to both bridges using sacks filled with gunpowder and rope fuses. The bridges erupted in flames, their wooden structures cracking and collapsing into the river below. Sparks flew into the air as charred debris tumbled into the water. Once the bridges were destroyed, the men torched the trees along the road, creating a blockade that forced the enemy to navigate the rugged terrain of the woods, slowing their advance.
Meanwhile, a 17-year-old archer from the group climbed a massive redwood tree, its thick branches providing perfect cover. The tree had stood for generations, serving as a spy post during times of trade and conflict. From his perch, the archer had a clear view of the river and the approaching army.
The second group arrived at the wooden dam upstream, positioning their cannons and waiting for the signal. The enemy's first battalion of 2,000 soldiers reached the river shortly after. Seeing the burned bridges, they laughed, dismissing the shallow river as no obstacle. Their leader ordered the men to rest, refill their water bottles, and cool their feet in the river. About 200 soldiers waded into the water, while another 500 stood close to the bank.
The archer in the tree observed the scene for a moment, then lit the fuse on his specially crafted arrow, the arrow was a normal arrow with a hollow barrel filled with gunpowder and copper shavings, it had a short fuse attached to it , this gave out a blue spark on explosion. He fired it into the air at an angle, ensuring it would explode hundreds of meters away, masking its origin. The arrow burst in a shower of bright blue sparks, startling the enemy. They scrambled for their weapons, firing blindly upstream as five men ventured to investigate.
Before they could react, a torrent of water surged downstream, sweeping away the soldiers in the river and those too close to the bank. Debris from the broken dam crashed into them, knocking many unconscious and carrying them downstream the casualties amounted to a few hundred men . The remaining soldiers panicked as cannonballs rained down, obliterating the front lines.
"It's a fucking ambush!" their leader screamed, and the survivors retreated in chaos, crashing into the battalions behind them. The archer in the tree took a few final shots with his crossbow to drive home the message, then climbed down and sprinted back to the castle.