She changed Europe

Page 68

Seeing Gisela's reaction, Aponia realized the impure thoughts that had crossed her mind. She raised her hands, briefly covering her face, and took a deep breath. When she lowered her hands, a beautiful yet elegant expression returned to her face. Everything that had just happened seemed unbelievable, like an illusion. This sudden change of expression was so seamless that it left the oblivious Gisela completely stunned.

PS1: Ra!

Chapter 251 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 112 Aponia's Thoughts (Seeking Votes)

"Oh right! The sweet potatoes should be cooked by now!" Gisela tapped her hand and quickly focused her attention on the fire in front of her. The clever girl ultimately chose to divert attention to ease the awkwardness between the two of them.

“We don’t have magic-powered armor, so launching a direct attack would be too risky and inefficient. Besides, I also want to try out my new weapon.” Gisela’s new weapon wasn’t anything groundbreaking. She couldn’t explain complex things like airplanes and cannons. At this stage, the only thing she could inspire the genius engineers at the Škoda factory to work on was individual weapons.

The development of grenades and mortars went relatively smoothly. She had simply asked the engineers if they could create a small bomb—not as powerful as explosives, but easy to throw and carry. In the end, she somehow managed to create a practical spherical grenade ahead of schedule. Gisela then added a wooden handle, turning it into a makeshift wooden-handled grenade. History had already proven the reliability of this shape, and even though its quality wasn't quite as reliable now (prone to moisture and misfires), for rank-and-file soldiers, not having to carry a huge pack of explosives during assaults was a relief.

As for dealing with magic-armored armor? Wake up! How many magic-armored armors are there on the battlefield? Most of the time, soldiers are still facing ordinary soldiers.

The mortar project was more complicated. Initially, Gisela wanted them to refer to the principles of the mortar, but the engineers were unable to scale it down to the size she envisioned, making it usable by individual soldiers. The then-irritable chief engineer even wrote a report of tens of thousands of words explaining that such an idea was impossible to implement.

Gisela was not discouraged at all. While she was still in Prague, she summoned the court painters to Prague Castle that very night. The painters, thinking that the princess had suddenly decided to have them paint her portrait, were all eager to practice their portraiture techniques over and over again. However, the lovely princess greeted them in her pajamas, then smiled and explained her request before having her servants lock the gate and leaving.

Making money just by drawing a tube? You can leave once you're satisfied with the drawing? That sounds too easy, and then a week just flies by.

On the day the last painter collapsed from overwork, the masterpiece "Seven Days with My Tuozi," which has been passed down through the ages, was officially created. This famous painting, which combines artistic appreciation and technical reference value, was handed over to a group of engineers. As for the chief engineer, he voluntarily resigned and went to the countryside of Trasivania.

Several months later, the first real mortar was born more than 30 years earlier. Although it was in the experimental stage, there should be no risk in handing it over to his private army for testing.

Since then, the Chinese phrase "The bolder the man, the greater the harvest" has become the corporate motto of Škoda United Arms Manufacturing Co., Ltd., and the company seems to have been blessed by a mysterious force from the East, embarking on a remarkable path.

"Your Highness, you truly bring surprises to your country at every turn. May your weapons be as invincible as your army." Although Aponia didn't know the specific function of the equipment carried by the soldiers before her, it didn't stop her from expressing her respect for Gisela.

As a member of the Vatican, she should have been a spokesperson for conservatism and traditionalism, just like countless other clergy. Unfortunately, her unique upbringing gave her more empathy for the lower classes. On the bedside table of the church where she originally lived as a spy, there was even a copy of the GCD Manifesto, first published in 1848.

This is not surprising. In this era, those who are truly capable of understanding this critical point at the first moment are high-level intellectuals. Although they are not living in poverty and have no obligation to change the status quo, the noble ones will always be noble. They strive for the happiness of others, spread advanced ideas to the ignorant, and do so only to make society better and for the majority of people to achieve happiness.

Although she was loyal to the Papacy, she still wanted to do her part for the person in front of her, because she had a premonition that this princess would bring about change to the ancient empire. She believed in this Austrian princess, just as the bishop had said: all destiny lies in the uncertain future.

"Really?" Gisela rubbed the tip of her nose and handed the sweet potato to Aponia.

—Our gaze returns to the battlefield at hand, to the places where the aroma of sweet potatoes cannot reach.

At this moment, Leopold took a deep breath and used his sword to cut down a burly French soldier. But before he could rest, several more French soldiers jumped into the trenches. Looking at the battlefield as a whole, the Franco-Italian army had successfully broken into the positions, and the battle between the two sides was extremely chaotic.

Sure enough, relying solely on rifle fire to defend against such a large-scale attack is far too difficult. It would be great if there were a single-soldier controlled automatic weapon, like the American Gatling gun.

With his keen eye for military equipment, how could Leopold, with his keen interest and unique perspective, overlook a revolutionary weapon that emerged during the American Civil War? Machine guns, breech-loading rifles, ironclad warships… This war in the New World also served as a testing ground for the weapons of the European powers. Providing weapons to both sides while paying for testing was a highly profitable business. Even Spain was eager to resell weapons to the Confederate States of America (the Southern Army).

"Bang!" Just as Leopold was distracted, a bullet fired by the Frenchman struck him, knocking him to the ground. Faced with this sudden turn of events, Leopold grabbed his pistol from his waist and pulled the trigger at the French soldier who had shot him; the Frenchman also fell to the ground.

"Sir, are you alright?" A soldier kicked an enemy to the ground, plunged his bayonet into the enemy's chest, and came over to check on Leopold's condition.

"It hurts a bit, let me catch my breath." Leopold took a deep breath and reached his right hand into the spot where he had been hit in the chest. The soldier dragged Leopold backward.

"Tsk, how am I going to explain this to that little brat Nina?" Leopold took out a silver pocket watch from his chest. The bullet was deeply embedded in it, and the smooth, textured casing had also undergone severe wear and tear. This pocket watch was a birthday gift from Nina.

"Let...our...magic armor go into battle. I'll rest here for a bit." Although the bullets didn't penetrate his body, the massive impact still made his chest ache, and he was even a little breathless when he spoke.

"Yes, sir," the soldier replied.

PS1: It's back to work again QAQ

Chapter 252 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 113 French Foreign Legion (Seeking Votes)

The soldier took the signal pistol from Leopold, raised his right arm vertically towards the sky, and gently pulled the trigger. With a gunshot, a signal flare with a white trail of flame rose into the air, followed by a massive explosion.

Soon, with a violent tremor in the ground, the soldiers on both sides simultaneously looked around. A horrifying scene unfolded before them. Colossal steel beasts painted gray emerged from the trees on either side, their sheer number as terrifying as moving mountains.

Two regiments of dozens of magical armored vehicles charged madly towards the French magical armored vehicles scattered among the allied soldiers. Beams of white light, like dazzling fireworks, struck the shields of the French magical armored vehicles. With the intense barrage, the shields quickly collapsed due to overload. The unprotected magical armored vehicles were thus easily harvested by the Imperial army.

"It's Austrian magic armor! Quick! Prepare explosives!" French officers roared, directing their soldiers as they pulled out explosives specifically designed to deal with magic armor from their backpacks. Faced with these steel behemoths, the fearless French soldiers were prepared to perish together.

Unfortunately, Leopold had already warned the magic users that they must maintain constant movement, as mobility was the key to victory. In this era, without the aid of weapons like rocket launchers to deliver explosives, the soldiers' arm strength became crucial for these tactics to be effective. Unfortunately, the biggest weakness of magic armor was its legs, and its effectiveness would be greatly reduced if the user did not get close.

Countless soldiers were felled by the explosions of the magic cannons like kites being flown, while the French magic armor was reduced to a pile of burning scrap metal as it was subjected to concentrated fire.

In just a few tens of minutes, the Allied forces' attacking troops were torn open by the magic-armored units. Leopold also ordered his adjutant to give the order to counterattack. Instantly, the soldiers in the rear ranks jumped out of the trenches, raised their weapons, and launched a counterattack against the Allied forces in front of them together with their comrades in the front ranks.

The balance of war once again tipped in Austria's favor. At this moment, even Empress Elizabeth, who was piloting a magical armor and overlooking the battle from the air, believed that this young man would bring the empire a resounding victory, just like Archduke Karl.

Standing on the artillery position, McMahon coldly observed the troops in their predicament, then used his right hand to brush his long black hair behind his ear, and squinted at his adjutant beside him.

“Let’s not wait any longer. Let them strike, Charlotte. Let the blood-stained sword be washed clean by blood.” McMahon’s gaze fell on the golden wreath banner—the French Foreign Legion.

Established in 1831 by order of King Louis Philippe of the Orléans dynasty, the unit was initially created to address the problem of foreign crime in France and to replenish French soldiers killed or wounded in the war. However, in just a few decades, this unit, composed of foreign thugs and ruffians, displayed a morale and combat effectiveness that even regular armies could not match during the war.

McMahon's foreign soldiers were not numerous either, consisting of an infantry brigade and their own magical armored battalion, totaling less than four thousand men.

“Yes, sir.” Charlotte, the blonde beauty who had always been by McMahon's side, gently raised her hand and gestured to the Foreign Legion commander. The veteran soldiers, who had been waiting for a long time, their faces contorted with rage, inserted their gleaming bayonets into their rifles. They spoke different languages ​​and had different skin colors, but they shared one common identity—Foreign Legion soldiers.

"/veconneretfidlit." (You are a volunteer who serves France with honor and loyalty. I will present the rest in Chinese.) At the front, soldiers wearing officer's caps recited the Legion's oath in French.

"Every member of the Legion is your comrade-in-arms, regardless of nationality, race, or doctrine, and will always show the same close unity as a family." Every soldier must repeat this oath before battle. This is not just a formality, but a kind of inheritance and a belief.

"Respect tradition, love your superiors. Discipline and friendship are strength, courage and loyalty are virtues." The officer drew his sword, and the soldiers moved forward with steady steps. They moved in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized. No one had ever been as suited for war as they were.

"Be proud to be a member of the Legion. Your attire is elegant and refined; your words and actions are humble yet dignified; may your quarters always be kept clean and tidy." The disheveled Sardinian army, seeing this strange army marching towards them, stopped their fleeing steps and stared blankly at it.

"Elite warriors, you must rigorously train yourselves and maintain your weapons as your most precious assets. You must always keep your body healthy and be ready for the next battle." Austrian shells exploded around them, and shrapnel hit the soldiers on the edge in an instant. After lying down briefly, they got up again and walked forward, and the empty spaces created by the fallen soldiers were quickly filled by the soldiers behind them.

"Military orders are sacred, and we must carry them out to the end. Even if it means sacrificing our lives, we will not hesitate." The magic-armored armors on both sides were charging their cannons, the white light as dazzling as the sun.

"In battle, your actions should not be swayed by passion or resentment. Respect your opponents, protect your comrades, and we will never abandon you." The soldiers raised their rifles and aimed at the Austrian soldiers leaping out of the trenches in the distance.

"Ready! Fire!" The command rang out, and a neat wall of smoke rose up, followed by the whistling of bullets like instruments playing a synchronized drumbeat. Austrian soldiers in white uniforms were hit by bullets one after another and fell into the trenches. Their overly orderly formations shone like lighthouses in the already chaotic battlefield, and their outstanding performance was evident to all.

PS1: Ra!

Chapter 253 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 114 The Backstab of Justice (Seeking Votes)

Just then, several white beams flew past behind them, striking the moving Imperial magic armor. The magic armor, which had been happily reaping infantry, was forced to stop and deploy its shields for defense.

"It's the Foreign Legion!"

"They've finally attacked!" The French soldiers' morale soared, and their wavering spirits were rekindled by the addition of this heroic force.

"For France! Attack!" The deafening battle cries echoed across the plains. Even Emperor Joseph, who was on the opposite bank of the river watching the battle, frowned with a solemn expression.

“That’s not enough!” McMahon took off his glasses and snapped his fingers at his adjutant, who was a general in the Second Column. But she also had another identity: the French magic user. The lady in the sky had been waiting for her for a long time, and it would be unreasonable not to accept the challenge.

The thought of facing off against the so-called Golden Rose of Vienna made a battle fanatic like McMahon's blood boil.

The French launched a full-scale counterattack, thwarting the Austrian counter-charge and forcing them to retreat to their positions. Leopold watched his tactics fail with some frustration. Had he really relied too heavily on this method for defense? If he were on the offensive, the magic-armored clusters would certainly have been much more effective. But now was not the time to think about that; he needed to hold out for a while longer.

Leopold looked helplessly at the bridge. The Hungarians, who had finally managed to restore order, had wasted time at the cost of their own men's sacrifices!

Let's turn our attention back to Gisela—

After watching McMahon take off, Gisela wiped her mouth, licked her lips, stood up and stretched her stiff body. Then, she deliberately made a telescope shape with her hands and pretended to look at the artillery position where McMahon's command post was located.

“The tiger has finally emerged from the mountains.” Why would Gisela say that? Because on the way here, she had Hanna use the Rothschild family’s intelligence network to thoroughly investigate the size of the French army and the number of magic users. Although it sounds somewhat funny, in this era, apart from the British and the Vatican, there really aren’t any other intelligence agencies that can rival the Rothschild family’s money-built network.

Can you imagine? This intelligence came from a mid-level officer in this French army. It's true that traitors are the same in any era.

"Miss Aponia, quickly wake up Chloris, we need to move out." Having Chloris's help will definitely bring many benefits; no one will complain about having too many combatants on their side during a battle.

“Your Highness, your body…” Aponia’s words were cut short. Chloris, who had been sleeping, had already quietly appeared behind Gisela and skillfully pinched Gisela’s fox ears from behind.

"Darling, I heard you need me?" Chloris licked her lips, pulled Gisela's little head into her arms, and skillfully fiddled with Gisela's fox ears.

"..." The awkward fox cry rang out again, but this time Gisela quickly grabbed Chloris with her own hand.

"Prepare for battle. Please be serious. We can discuss any complaints later. As long as they're not excessive, I'll agree to whatever you say." Gisela glanced at Chloris with an air of self-righteousness before turning her back to give the order to attack to the St. Stephen's Legion.

"So, is it okay for us to have sex afterwards?" Chloris's words were very calm. Gisela almost twisted her ankle at this sudden direct question, but their actions continued.

at the same time----

"Greetings, Your Majesty Queen Elizabeth." McMahon flew to the same height as Elizabeth and gave an elegant bow to the beautiful Queen Elizabeth before him.

"Before you greet me, would you please introduce yourself?" Elizabeth coldly replied to the French woman before her, then gently raised her broadsword. Queen Elizabeth had long since lost any desire for pleasantries with the Frenchwoman who had harmed her daughter.

McMahon simply shrugged at Her Majesty the Queen's ill intentions. After all, the French had hurt her daughter first, and even setting aside national interests, it was perfectly reasonable for a mother to avenge her children.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty, my name is Marie Edm Patrice Maurice de McMahon, an ordinary general in the French Empire." McMahon took a deep breath, covered his face with his hand, and then introduced himself in a very flat tone.

“McMahon? The Crimean beast?” The Empress had clearly heard of this strange woman. This woman had personally led four divisions in the Battle of Sevastopol, breaking through the Malakhov Heights in 10 minutes, and subsequently repelling several frenzied Russian counterattacks, turning the tide of the war in one fell swoop.

“That’s right, Your Majesty.” McMahon’s lips curled up, his tone completely unwavering, as if it were nothing more than a trivial matter.

“Oh, right, I almost forgot, why aren’t they eating the cake?” McMahon lowered her hand from her cheek, her expression now filled with mockery and disdain. (This quote comes from Marie Antoinette, Queen of Louis XVI and a Habsburg princess; she said it here to deliberately provoke Sisi.)

"A madwoman with a foul mouth should pay the price for her words!" Elizabeth frowned slightly, accelerated, and stabbed directly at McMahon. With the release of magical energy, a golden light streaked across the night sky, sharing the brilliance that belonged only to the sun with the darkness.

“If Your Highness does as you wish.” McMahon picked up a long spear from behind her back, and a huge shield unfolded on her left arm guard. The combination of a magical shield and a physical armor shield gave her the confidence to stand firm against the Queen’s attack.

With a loud clang, Elizabeth's proud strike was neutralized by McMahon's defense. The force of the impact also created a huge opening in Elizabeth's defense. McMahon raised an eyebrow, charged up the spear in his right hand, and thrust it toward the Queen's heart.

Using language to provoke opponents into attacking, then using his own strong defense to withstand the attack, and launching a counterattack the moment their attack falters—all of this was a conspiracy that McMahon had planned long ago.

PS1: Two days of work and it's the weekend again 0v0!

Chapter 254 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 115 Overcoming the Enemy (Seeking Votes)

Faced with McMahon's counterattack, Queen Elizabeth leaned back slightly, tossing her weapon high into the air. She then took out a dagger from her leg armor, used the flight device to adjust her center of gravity, and threw the magic dagger at McMahon's face. McMahon instinctively stopped his attack upon seeing the sudden projectile and held his spear in front of his face.

Elizabeth seized the opportunity, kicking her leg against McMahon's shield. Using this as leverage, she leaped to a position slightly above McMahon, exactly at the same height as the sword she had thrown earlier. She easily gripped her broadsword again with both hands and, using all her strength, slashed at McMahon once more.

“The same trick won’t work, Your Highness. You can’t break my defense.” McMahon raised his shield again, and with another loud crash, Elizabeth’s sword slammed into McMahon’s shield once more, just like the first attack. McMahon raised his spear tip again, ready to thrust.

At that moment, an accident occurred. Using the force of her fall, Queen Elizabeth tilted her body slightly forward the instant she made contact with the shield, and then spun around and flew behind McMahon.

"This is a greeting from Vienna, you madwoman from Crimea." Elizabeth sneered, completing a ballet-like agility in mid-air before firing a magic cannon that she hadn't used before at McMahon's unsuspecting back.

A massive explosion resounded in the sky, and the soldiers who were still fighting once again unanimously lowered their weapons and looked up at the sky, where billowing smoke and darkness blurred their vision.

"Boom!" Before the Allied soldiers could even see the battle in the sky, an even more terrifying explosion rang out from the artillery positions behind them. The smoke and fire from the exploding ammunition depot completely illuminated the dark plain, making it barely discernible even at a distance of tens of kilometers.

Amidst the firelight, countless heads surged, and beneath the fluttering banner of St. Stephen, a petite white figure stood out all around. It was again the girl with fox-like ears. That day, the Italians once more recalled the terror of being dominated by Princess Gisela, and the humiliation of the princess's capture.

Gisela, with her gold and silver hair, possessed an expression that was both cold and affable, yet also showed her usual affability. Holding binoculars, she gazed at the vast, ant-like ranks of the Franco-Italian army in the distance. She gently raised her right hand and snapped her fingers. Behind her, countless flames and smoke rose, and mortar shells and rifle bullets rained down on the Allied soldiers positioned in the center of the plain.

The army suddenly appeared behind them without warning. Faced with such a surprise attack, no soldier could remain calm. An uneasy sense of defeat spread like a plague among the allied forces, and the sound of shells exploding on the ground became the last straw that broke the camel's back.

"We've fallen into a trap and are surrounded!"

Phrases like "If we don't retreat now, we won't be able to escape" had already spread throughout the ears of the Allied soldiers.

"What kind of unit is that?" Gisela squinted and looked at the group of French troops in the distance who were still attacking the Imperial army's positions without wavering.

"They're just the French Foreign Legion, a bunch of lunatics born to fight," Chloris said seriously, hands on her hips and chin resting on her right.

“Foreign Legion…” Gisela repeated softly the name that had once left a deep impression on her. This legendary unit could be said to be one of the few tough guys in the French army. At least in terms of their performance in later generations, they certainly deserved the name of an iron army.

Logically speaking, defeating such an elite French force should have been an exciting event, but unfortunately, influenced by Su Beiming, she was unable to express her emotions properly. Apart from coldly muttering to herself, she showed no signs of emotion to others.

“Then let our artillery focus on that,” Gisela said, pointing to the distant target and addressing the Saint-Stephen Regiment soldiers behind him who were setting up mortars and capturing new French artillery.

On the Austrian army's position at this moment—

Leopold stared blankly at the distant explosion. Compared to the panicked French and Italians, they weren't shaken by the blast (after all, it wasn't their own artillery position that exploded), but he was still full of questions about this sudden turn of events. He simply couldn't understand which Austrian army would launch an attack from the French rear, especially since, according to Marshal Güle and Joseph's orders, all Austrian troops had already retreated to the east bank of the Ticino River.

Could it have been an explosion caused by operational error? But that's impossible! An explosion of this scale could only have been caused intentionally; there was no other possibility. Of course, it wasn't until countless shells flew from the original French artillery positions and landed on the heads of the enemy in the middle that Leopold finally had a clear answer.

He would always be grateful to anyone who helped the empire, but given the current situation, this was undoubtedly a golden opportunity to launch an attack.

"Pass on my order: a full-scale counterattack! Send a telegram to His Majesty, instructing him to cancel the retreat. Tell him that a friendly force has successfully launched a surprise attack on the French rear, and that Magenta's victory is assured." Leopold looked at the routed enemy army, breathed a sigh of relief, sat cross-legged on the ground, took out his last cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. Watching the figures of men charging forward in the firelight, he finally felt at peace.

"If only you could see this victory." Leopold didn't really care about the outcome of the battle. If he could exchange all of this for the girl's life, he might agree without hesitation.

Our gaze returns to the sky—

McMahon emerged somewhat disheveled from the smoke. Perhaps she had been too focused on frontal defense and had easily neglected her back. What was clearly just an ordinary magic cannon shot had caused her magic shield to reach its critical point in an instant, almost causing it to collapse.

"Do you still want to fight?" Elizabeth's beautiful face showed no emotion whatsoever; her previous angry roar was as if it had never happened.

"If I surrender, will you spare me?" McMahon wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and said with a hint of self-mockery. Clearly, the Queen would not let any French mage who had harmed her daughter go unpunished.

"If you were me, what would you do?" Queen Elizabeth posed the question to the French woman before her.

“I will kill you. After all, those damned Frenchmen hurt your daughter and destroyed your family. Of course, Your Highness can even capture me, inject me with suppressants, and parade me through the streets of Vienna to vent your anger.” McMahon spoke the truth. There was no need to lie at this point. He had clearly underestimated Elizabeth’s strength, and this outcome was entirely his own fault.

PS1: Sissi is angry 0v0

Chapter 255 Irises Wither in the Alps: Capter 116 Sissi's Punishment

"Then it seems my punishment for you will be far more severe than you imagine, for I will release you and grant you your freedom." (This is a dialogue between Romanus IV, the captured Byzantine emperor, and Arslan, the victorious Sultan of Rum, after the Battle of Manciket in 1071. This battle is considered a turning point in the Byzantine Empire's decline from its divine status.)

After Romanus IV returned to the country, his successor blinded him and exiled him to an island in the Sea of ​​Marmara, where he died a tragic death.

"Your Highness, what do you mean?" McMahon frowned, looking at Queen Elizabeth with great confusion.

"Look at your feet, Miss McMahon. You have failed. What can a defeated general like you gain from Napoleon III? Of course, France is a democracy now, and you won't be on the guillotine, but all your honor and life are over." For someone like McMahon who valued honor above all else, Queen Elizabeth clearly had her own plans rather than simply letting her die. Dead, she would be a hero; alive, she would be infamous for eternity.