“Yes, he should be in the Hall of Mirrors by now. It seems you also appreciate this talented musician,” Victor Luca responded casually, assuming that the French Prince was a bit uncomfortable with the topic of “fewer mistresses,” and quickly tried to make amends: “Oh, by the way, His Majesty and I have already discussed it. We’ll prepare at least a million florins as a dowry for Clementine.

“She is our most cherished daughter, and we hope she will live happily in Paris…”

One florin is roughly equivalent to 2.5 livres, making this a very generous dowry.

But upon hearing her mention the dowry, Joseph’s face turned grim, and he sighed inwardly: My dear aunt, Clementine is my first cousin! Your family name is also Bourbon[1], so this is close kin marrying close kin. If I really marry your daughter, I fear our descendants might all be born with congenital disabilities…

“Actually, I think Vienna is better than Paris—warm in winter, cool in summer, and full of artistic atmosphere.” Joseph didn’t know how to steer the conversation away from the topic, but just then, he glimpsed a spot where a spring bubbled up outside the window, and he quickly exclaimed, “Oh, is that the spring His Majesty Matthias was so fond of?”

Matthias was a Holy Roman Emperor in the 17th century. He once discovered a sweet spring and liked it so much that he built a hunting lodge there, which later became the Schönbrunn Palace.

Victor Luca frowned slightly, sensing that the French Prince seemed unwilling to discuss his marriage with Clementine.

“That’s not the Schönbrunn spring, dear. It’s in the royal garden.”

She took a deep breath and continued with a smile, “We are all of the most noble and closely related bloodlines. If you have any dissatisfaction with Clementine…”

Cough cough cough— Joseph thought to himself, What I’m dissatisfied with is that we are ‘one family’! Are you really intent on sealing this marriage today?

He pretended to bend over, coughing violently, and signaled to Amon: “This damned pneumonia, cough, cough, please get me some medicine.”

Amon was momentarily stunned—hadn’t the Prince’s pneumonia been dormant for a long time? But he quickly adapted, stepping forward to support Joseph, and under his master’s gaze, parted the crowd and headed for the lounge.

Victor Luca watched Joseph’s retreating back, a look of confusion on her face.

In the following days, Joseph, apart from discussing trade agreements with Leopold II and Austrian officials, used pneumonia as an excuse to avoid all banquets and social gatherings, doing everything possible to steer clear of Clementine’s mother, Victor Luca.

Once the framework for the “Franco-Austrian-German Trade Agreement” was roughly settled, he immediately took his leave from Joseph II and hurried back to Paris as if fleeing.

Victor Luca accompanied the escort to several miles southwest of Vienna, but still couldn’t get a few more words with him—Prince Joseph’s pneumonia seemed severe, and he would cough violently with every word.

As she recalled what she had learned over the past few days about Joseph’s romantic affairs, her brow furrowed. The French Prince had only one woman by his side, a doctor three years older than him, of low birth, who liked to wear men’s clothing. Other than her, there seemed to be almost no other women. Why was he avoiding marriage with Clementine?

It should be known that Leopold II was already set to be crowned Holy Roman Emperor, and his daughter’s status was definitely worthy of him!

She turned to her husband and whispered, “Dear, has the Prince mentioned anything to you about the engagement?”

Leopold II thought for a moment, then shook his head and said, “The trade agreement is very important. We mostly discussed matters related to that, and occasionally hunting or shipbuilding, but we rarely touched on romantic affairs.”

Victor Luca frowned again, suddenly grabbing Leopold II’s arm, her expression serious: “You must seriously discuss Clementine’s marriage with your sister. It would be best to formalize their wedding date in an official document.”

…

May 2, 1789.

Over 17,000 Austrian soldiers and 3,000 Bavarian soldiers left the Austrian enclave of Luxembourg in the west, marching along the French border towards the frontier town of Liège in the Southern Netherlands, several dozen kilometers away.

In a carriage at the front of the column, a grizzled general with steady and capable eyes looked out the window and casually asked the officer beside the carriage, “Lieutenant Colonel Haydn, how far are we from Liège?”

The latter quickly pulled out a map and checked, then turned and said, “General, we’re less than three miles away. If we march normally, we should arrive by tomorrow afternoon.”

He was referring to Austrian miles, roughly equivalent to 20 kilometers.

The elderly man in the carriage was none other than General Würmser, the commander-in-chief of the Austrian army. He nodded and asked, “Has there been any news from the Muzil Corps?”

“Not yet, General. But based on the message they sent yesterday, they should have entered Loon by now.”

Loon is a city north of Liège, west of Brabant, connecting two rebellious cities. Muzil was leading a light corps, carrying only a small amount of logistical supplies. According to General Würmser’s plan, they would march quickly around Liège and seize this strategic point to prevent the Brabant rebels from reinforcing Liège.

At the same time, this would also serve as a warning to the Prussian army—if the Prussians wanted to march south, they would have to pass through Loon.

Everything was proceeding as planned. Würmser was about to draw the curtains when he remembered something and ordered the officer, “Oh, by the way, send someone to contact the French and have them deliver the supplies to the south of Liège in three days. By then, we should have already taken the town.”

“Yes, General!”

Lieutenant Colonel Haydn saluted, tipped his hat, and rode off to relay the orders to the messengers.

General Würmser pulled the curtains shut and smiled at the Bavarian military commander, General Ernst, who was seated opposite him, “The Marquis of Walstatt’s army was still in Cologne yesterday. He surely didn’t expect us to reach Liège so quickly.”

The Marquis of Walstatt was none other than the Prussian General Blücher, who had led the intervention against the Dutch Patriot revolt. He was currently the vanguard for the Duke of Brunswick’s corps.

Ernst nodded in agreement, “Even if the Prussians march immediately, they will be blocked by Colonel Muzil’s forces at Loon. We’ll have at least a week to deal with the rebels in Liège.”

Thanks to the French logistical support—though officially, France claimed it was just regular trade in grain and iron—the Austrian army carried minimal supplies, allowing them to march quickly and reach the Southern Netherlands before the Prussians, who were closer.

General Würmser leaned back in his chair, looking quite relaxed, “You overestimate those rebels. According to the information sent a few days ago, they have less than 4,000 men, most of whom are untested peasants. It shouldn’t take long to crush them.

“My plan is to encircle Brabant before the Prussians arrive. If the Duke of Brunswick insists on intervening, then you will handle the siege while I lead the main force to confront the Prussians.”

To be fair, his battle plan was quite sound.

The Prussians, in their haste to reinforce the Brabant rebels, would likely rush and lower their guard. In this process, the Austrians might find an opportunity to ambush them. Even if they failed, at the very least, they could choose terrain favorable for a decisive battle.

General Würmser then mentioned some “gossip” he had heard: “Have you heard anything about Emperor Autodor planning to exchange Lower Bavaria for the Southern Netherlands?”

General Ernst replied, “It seems the French acted as mediators to ensure that neither side would break the agreement. So this time, the territorial exchange might actually go through.”

“Well, once the rebels surrender, you won’t have to return to Munich,” General Würmser laughed, “You can go straight to Brussels to welcome your king. You could even earn at least two promotions.”

In their view, the Southern Netherlands rebels were just walking opportunities for military merit, and the battle would be over by the end of the month at the latest.

While they were envisioning their future, the 5,000 soldiers of the Austrian Muzil Corps were in Loon, struggling with an increasingly frustrating situation.

A patrol of Austrian cavalry discovered people setting up spiked barricades near a village. When they approached to investigate, they were blocked by a priest holding a pitchfork, leading dozens of peasants.

The cavalry captain sneered and ordered his men to prepare to charge through these foolish commoners.

Based on his experience, when the horses got within ten meters, these people would scatter in fear.

Eleven cavalrymen lightly tightened their reins and urged their horses forward, drawing their sabers.

Just as they were about to charge, they heard gunfire behind them. One of the horses was shot in the leg and collapsed with its rider.

The priest immediately shouted, leading the peasants in a charge with their makeshift weapons towards the Austrian cavalry.

The Austrians were momentarily flustered, not expecting these commoners to dare attack.

In their hesitation, the priest had already closed the distance to about seventy or eighty meters.

The cavalry captain quickly raised his sword and shouted, “Forward! At a trot!”

“Quickly!”

“Prepare for combat!”

Ten cavalrymen charged at the ragged peasants like fierce beasts, closing to within ten meters of the priest. Just when they thought he would dodge, the priest thrust his pitchfork at them.

The cavalryman facing him deftly pulled his reins to the left, sidestepping the pitchfork, and slashed his saber across the priest’s chest, sending a spray of blood into the air.

The remaining peasants, inspired by the priest, pressed their attack with their crude weapons.

However, the difference in skill between them and the professional soldiers was too great. They paid with seven or eight lives but only managed to slow the cavalry down slightly.

Without the priest leading them, the rest of the peasants finally lost their nerve, dropping their tools and fleeing into the surrounding brush.

Just as the Austrians were about to breathe a sigh of relief, gunfire erupted again from behind them, this time much closer.

The cavalry captain turned to see sixteen or seventeen men with muskets, forming a line that blocked their retreat.

He gritted his teeth and ordered his men to turn around and charge back, but the peasants they had just dispersed returned, glaring at them with renewed resolve…

Half an hour later, most of the Austrian cavalry had been killed by musket fire and clubs, with only one man barely escaping the village with severe injuries.

Meanwhile, the Muzil Corps had just set up camp and were pitching tents when several hundred Southern Netherlanders suddenly emerged from a dry riverbed nearby. They fired a volley at the Austrians and set fires around the camp before disappearing into the dusk.

When the Austrians pursued, the attackers had already vanished, using their knowledge of the terrain to escape.

Although the raid only killed a dozen Austrian soldiers, it forced the rest to stay on high alert all night, unable to rest properly.

Similar incidents occurred throughout Loon, with Protestant priests taking the lead in organizing attacks on the Austrians. They had received 2,000 muskets from the Dutch just two weeks earlier and were now emboldened to strike everywhere, causing endless trouble for the Austrians.

To counter these constant harassments, the Muzil Corps’ progress slowed to a crawl, and it took them three more days to finally reach the outskirts of Loon.

However, all but one of the cavalrymen sent to deliver messages to General Würmser were intercepted and killed by the rebels. So, when General Würmser’s main force finally engaged the rebels at Liège, they had no idea what was happening in Loon.

The situation in Liège wasn’t as favorable as the Austrians had expected, either.

On a hillside, General Würmser watched through his telescope as the Southern Netherland rebels crumbled under his skirmishers’ assault, a smile curling his lips.

These rabble had no combat experience and had foolishly set up a line formation on a sloping hill, trying to defend from the high ground.

However, the Austrian army launched a strong attack from the left side of the slope, where the terrain was higher.

Outnumbered and outgunned, the Southern Netherlanders were predictably routed.

General Würmser had just ordered his cavalry to pursue the fleeing enemy when the Southern Netherlanders suddenly disappeared into the nearby forest.

He frowned immediately, feeling as if he had swallowed a fly—it was a replay of the scene from two days ago. The rebels clearly knew the terrain well and had already scattered by the time his cavalry arrived, capturing fewer than 200 of them.

Though he had won a decisive victory, it had taken nearly a whole day to deploy his troops, test the enemy’s defenses, and finally break through their lines.

After the battle, they would need to rest, which meant they couldn’t resume their march until noon the next day at the earliest.

These despicable Southern Netherlanders had delayed him for three whole days, and he was still nearly ten kilometers from the town of Liège.

Yesterday, the French had already sent envoys asking why no one had accepted the supplies delivered to the south of Liège, and how most of it had been stolen by the rebels.

[1]Maria Victor Luca is the daughter of Charles III, and the younger sister of the current Spanish King Charles IV. The Spanish and French royal families are both Bourbons, making them very closely related.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep