【The Eagle of Europe】(Prologue)

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

In Memingen, a town about 100 kilometers west of Munich, the town hall was brightly lit. High-ranking Allied officials were holding a banquet there. If it weren't for the rather simple building, the ornate tableware, exquisite food, and luxurious furnishings, one would easily mistake it for the mansion of a Viennese nobleman.
At the table, impeccably dressed nobles and generals were dining.
The obese Imperial Marshal, Count Gallas, feeling he had eaten enough, put down his cutlery, wiped his mouth, raised his glass, and said, "Gentlemen, to tomorrow's victory, cheers!"
The other officers, who had been enjoying their meals, quickly stopped and also raised their glasses, shouting, "To tomorrow's victory!" Their excitement made it seem as if victory had already arrived.
How could victory not come? The Holy Roman Empire had mobilized a great deal of strength this time; almost every prince had contributed at least one infantry regiment, and Emperor Rudolf II had even mobilized ten regiments at once, including four of Europe's finest Spanish infantry regiments. The Holy Roman Empire had rarely mobilized such a large force since the reign of Maximilian I. Even the infidel invasions of decades past, which were met with fierce resistance, were largely limited to Austria and Hungary. This time, with 50,000 troops, 5,000 Hungarian cavalry, and 8,000 cavalry from various states, even under the command of the complacent and pleasure-seeking Marshal Gallas, defeat was assured.
Their enemy, a country bumpkin claiming descent from an ancient Roman family, had incited a group of villagers to oppose the nobility. With the help of the Swiss, they had conquered Bavaria. Of course, Swiss mercenaries were once renowned, but that was a thing of the past. Since the advent of cannons, even the bravest Swiss were merely targets; this allied force included many artillery pieces.
These country bumpkins weren't stupid; hearing of the Imperial army's approach, they retreated west from Munich, a pursuit that took almost a week to catch. It seems many deserted; half of them had already deserted in the last two days. They initially thought there were 20,000 men, but looking at the camp they left behind a few days ago, it's less than 10,000. They'll probably all flee the moment the fighting starts tomorrow.
However, these country bumpkins aren't penniless. I don't know where they got so many nice things to sell; even the luxurious tablecloth, the exquisite tableware, and the fine wine in their glasses were all bought from Zurich. These goods are popular throughout Europe, especially since Zurich has many Jewish moneylenders. The nobles present were all prepared to make a fortune, thinking they could certainly cover their losses and wouldn't need to borrow money from those Italian merchants for a while—most importantly, they could buy up all the huge loans and payments owed to Zurich in one go.
Marshal Gallas downed his drink in one gulp, put down his glass, and said with a smile, "I've prepared some desserts for you all." He then clapped his hands, and several servants from upstairs brought down several large trays. But the trays didn't contain ice cream or cakes; instead, they held beautiful women draped in semi-transparent white veils, seductively smiling and bewitching the guests.
The generals, though some were worldly-wise, were still captivated by the sight of their exposed, white bodies, each one wanting to devour them whole.
The servants placed the trays on the tables in front of each person and withdrew. The women embraced their guests and began undressing them. Many, eager for more, started groping and kissing.
General Hatik, the Hungarian cavalry commander, in his prime, was most excited. Too lazy to unbutton his clothes, he pulled down his trousers, intending to take the beauty on the spot. But the woman said in a coquettish voice, "My lord, let me serve you first," and lowered her head to lick his penis. The girl, while licking him, thought, "This guy's thing is really big, but the smell is too strong; I wonder how long it's been since he washed it. However, compared to the usual fat or thin nobles, this general is much stronger. I just hope he's not just all show and no substance."
General Hatik had loved military life since childhood, unlike most nobles who indulged in debauchery. Two years ago, he had fought a major battle against the Turks under Marshal Tilly—who didn't yet hold the title of marshal—leading the Hungarian cavalry to numerous victories. The general wasn't usually so fancy with women; he'd just take his pants off and have sex. However, he couldn't force himself on the marshal, and finding his penis quite comfortable, he let her do as she pleased. Admiring the beautiful woman's high, upturned buttocks, stroking her smooth hair, he felt that enjoying her soft little hands gripping his hard penis was different from occasionally relieving himself.
The beautiful woman's tongue gently licked and teased his glans, making the general breathe a sigh of pleasure. Then, with a wide-open mouth, he took the entire glans into his mouth, his tongue swirling and sucking, the tip of his tongue gently tracing the fleshy ridge beneath the glans. He then clamped the ridge between his lips, his tongue licking the urethral opening. His hands were not idle either; one hand rapidly stroked the thick shaft, the other gently kneaded the two testicles below.
After a while, Hatik saw that most of his colleagues around him had already begun—Marshal Galas even had three at a time—so he wanted to go all out too. The beauty felt she was sufficiently prepared, her vagina sufficiently wet, and straddled the general. He let the thick penis penetrate her body, filling her vagina completely. The beauty couldn't help but let out a satisfied gasp.
Hatik pulled his penis out, her dark red labia turning outwards, the thick penis thrusting in and out of the beauty's vagina, making a 'gurgling' sound. Hartik, caught up in the excitement, flipped the beauty over and began a fierce assault from behind, as if riding one of his thoroughbred steeds. The beauty moaned and groaned, thinking to herself that such a powerful penis was rarely seen among the nobility; she usually only experienced such stimulating pleasure when having affairs with rough and strong servants.
The beauty's elastic flesh scraped every inch of his penis, her walls undulating powerfully, layer upon layer enveloping it, sending shivers of pleasure through Hartik. He thrust in and out even more forcefully, creating waves of flesh against her hips.
After a while, Hartik, having been without a woman for some time, felt the increasingly intense stimulation cause his penis to swell even larger. After dozens more thrusts, he finally shuddered and ejaculated a thick stream of semen.
Hartik breathed a sigh of relief, looked around, and saw that most of the others had already finished and were enjoying his performance. Count Galas, seeing him looking over, gave a thumbs-up and praised, "Truly a hero who has fought the Turks in real combat, unlike us. General Hatik deserves the greatest credit for this victory."
The surrounding crowd echoed his sentiments, and after a short rest, they resumed a new round of "battle."
********************
Several kilometers outside the town, on the plains, stood the army of what the nobles called "country bumpkins." In the center of the orderly camp was the commander's tent, brightly lit. The young commander sat at a table, though this long table was far more rudimentary than the one several kilometers away. The light source wasn't candles or oil lamps, but a much brighter, crystal-like sphere. On either side sat the commander's mid- to high-ranking officers—on the left, Swiss officers in red uniforms and ordinary officers in blue uniforms; on the right, officers of the Blackshirts Guard in black uniforms
. A staff officer was giving the final pre-battle intelligence briefing.
"Currently, the enemy forces consist of thirty infantry regiments, most of which are significantly understaffed except for four Spanish infantry regiments, totaling approximately 28,000 men. They also have 6,200 German cavalry and 4,700 Hungarian cavalry, 28 artillery pieces, and over 10,000 women and children. Our forces include the Guards Grenadier Division, the Swiss 1st Infantry Division, and the 2nd Army Division. The corps headquarters directly commands the 1st Dragoon Brigade and the 1st Guards Field Artillery Regiment, along with the Guards Cavalry Regiment. The total force is 18,000 men, with 126 artillery pieces. All units are fully prepared for battle, and the enemy is expected to launch a frontal attack tomorrow. We will now proceed with the battle deployment.
" To the left rear of the commander, a man in a black robe stepped forward, lightly flicking his cane. A scroll gently landed on the long table. The scroll unfurled automatically, revealing the positions of the two armies on the table. The officers ignored this supernatural sight, focusing intently on the ant-like army on the table.
"The enemy is expected to deploy cavalry on both flanks, with the stronger Hungarian cavalry on our right flank. Their thirty infantry regiments should be deployed as usual, while twenty-eight cannons will be deployed in front of the infantry." As the chief of staff spoke, a swarm of soldiers moved across the table, forming ranks.
"Our Guards grenadiers are on the left flank, and the Swiss 1st Infantry Division on the right. The 1st Guards Field Artillery Regiment is deployed in the center, with the 2nd Army Division providing cover for the artillery. Enemy cavalry must not be allowed to threaten the artillery. General Davout, can you do this?
" A middle-aged man in his forties stood up, his crisp blue uniform adorned with a gold star on his epaulettes. "The 2nd Army Division, from myself down, will fight to the bitter end."
"Tomorrow, the 1st Guards Field Artillery Regiment will first destroy the enemy artillery, expected to be completed within ten minutes. At that time, the enemy is expected to charge our artillery positions with cavalry; we will seize the opportunity to annihilate them." "Then the artillery fire will be extended, and once the enemy wavers, the infantry will launch a full-scale attack."
The young commander, with black eyes and dark hair, stood up. "The enemy claims to be the Holy Roman Empire, but in reality, it is neither holy, nor Roman, nor even an empire. The corrupt Habsburg dynasty is like a dilapidated house; if we kick it a few times, it will collapse. Tomorrow, we'll give it a good kick."
The officers all stood up. "Yes, sir."
"Dismissed
." The officers left the table and filed out, returning to their tents.
Only the young commander and the black-robed figure beside him remained in the tent.
The black-robed figure removed her hood, revealing an extremely delicate face. She looked to be only fourteen or fifteen years old, but her blue eyes lacked the innocence of someone her age.
The blonde girl looked at the boy, who was a few years older than her. "Is it alright to only bring three divisions for this battle?"
The boy returned to his seat. "No problem. Most of the enemy are just mercenaries, their morale low due to hunger; even a hundred thousand troops are nothing to them. Besides, I suspect the Italians will take advantage of the chaos, so we must leave some troops near Zurich. And after the Battle of France, don't you trust my abilities?"
"Of course I do." The girl smiled, sitting on the armrest and resting her head on the boy's broad shoulder. "Of course I trust your abilities. And as long as those Blackshirts are here, what is there to worry about even if the entire world's armies are against us? Besides, we have that kind of power."
"Then why are you asking this question?" The boy removed his gloves and stroked the girl's fair face.
"I just want to quickly eliminate the enemies here. Then we can march on Rome and avenge my mother who died at the stake." "The girl spoke calmly, but her eyes, as blue as the sea and sky, burned with the fire of hatred.
Although five years had passed, it felt as if her mother had left her just yesterday. She recalled that night, amidst the crowded throng, the air filled with shouts of insults and prayers thanking God for ridding her of the witch. Eight-year-old Leona, barely holding back her tears to avoid revealing her identity, saw her mother bound to a wooden post, surrounded by the crowd, the post piled high with firewood. Her mother, wounded by stones thrown by the crowd, blood staining her forehead, smiled at her even in her last moments, until flames engulfed her.
"Leonarde, it won't be long. After annihilating this army, we will lead our forces across the Alps, completing the initial stage of your revenge. Those corrupt priests will be punished. As for the Inquisition, I will hand them over to you."
The girl's anger gradually subsided, and she began to talk to the boy about her childhood. As a child, she had been so innocent and mischievous, always playing pranks. And how she clung to her gentle and beautiful mother.
The boy listened quietly, his right hand running through her soft golden hair, caressing her snow-white, swan-like neck.
Gradually, another flame ignited in the girl's eyes. Leonardo languidly and alluringly raised her head and kissed the boy's lips.
Everything began so naturally; the boy didn't ask any unnecessary questions, gently undressing the girl. The mysterious, alluring black dress was parted by the glass, revealing her matching underwear.
The boy brushed aside a head of golden hair, looking at her bare back and delicate shoulders and arms, and couldn't help but swallow hard, his hands skillfully untying the underwear. Although he felt an urge to act quickly, it was only through this effort that he could enjoy the pleasure of undressing a beautiful woman.
When the underwear was removed, leaving only her panties, Leonardo let out a soft gasp. A hint of shyness and a small joy rippled in her sapphire-blue eyes. Her snow-white face was tinged with a blush. The young man, captivated, kissed her warm, red lips, his tongue invading the little witch's mouth, teasing her fragrant tongue. Until she shyly pulled away, a bewitching, transparent thread of saliva lingered at the corner of her lips, making one want to devour this enchantress.
Lost in the mystery before him, the young man reached out with trembling excitement and pulled down the lace-trimmed underwear that had so alluringly captivated him. He was now fully exposed to the mystery of the woman's body.
Slender and bony, her fair and smooth body had unexpectedly full breasts and buttocks. Long, slender legs, glistening with flesh. Especially striking were her breasts, radiating a vibrant color, and the tightly closed, mysterious jade gate of her lower body, its crevice sparking endless fantasies. Most captivating was the glistening liquid within. Unable to resist, the boy lightly tasted the girl's sweet spring.
He scooped her up, letting her straddle him with her back against his. His military uniform was long gone.
He teased her petals with his egg-sized glans, letting her nectar drip onto his thick shaft. His hands kneaded her soft breasts. The girl breathed heavily, one slender hand gripping his penis, the other holding the chair armrest, wary of being violated before she was ready. The
boy wasn't in a hurry to enjoy her honeyed depths, but rather savored her shy beauty and soft lips, feeling the tightness of her labia pressing against his large glans.
"Should I use the clone technique again today?" the girl asked, her soft voice carrying a hint of anticipation.
"There's another battle tomorrow, let's forget it," the boy said, stroking her soft belly.
The girl felt an electric current spreading from her lower body throughout her entire being, and her moist, warm vulva was already soaking wet.
She released her right hand from the armrest and instead rubbed her delicate clitoris. Her slender body, seemingly boneless, leaned against the boy's chest. Her head rested on his broad shoulder, her eyes half-open, half-closed, as if shrouded in mist.
Without the support of the armrest, her body, though light, inevitably swayed. Her tight vulva immediately felt the pressure of the large glans, the hot shaft beginning to force its way in, the large glans pulsating and swelling, and the girl's small nose emitted soft breaths.
Finally, the tender cervix was pressed against the hot glans, but a section of the shaft remained exposed. The boy's hands gripped the girl's slender waist tightly, and he began his assault.
The girl's face was devoid of sorrow and hatred, only filled with happiness and ecstasy, lost in the dual pleasure of body and soul. Leonardi, with her slender yet explosively powerful waist and legs, moved rhythmically against the boy, rising and falling. Her flower-like opening gushed forth with lustful fluids.
"Master, I'm so...happy...ahhhhh..." Feeling incredibly happy and loving the boy so much, Leonardi cried out, her shimmering golden hair flying high.
Having released her pent-up desire, Leonardi leaned against the boy, the tender flesh of her opening still contracting, tightly gripping his penis, love juice and vaginal fluid slowly flowing from their intimate union.
The boy, however, was not satisfied. He stood up and pressed the girl's upper body onto the table, his hot, thick penis beginning its fierce assault. The girl, still recovering from the afterglow of her orgasm, was burning hot all over, even her snow-white neck flushed red. The tender flesh of her honeyed orifice spasmed sensitively with each thrust of the penis. Consciousness had long since left her body, her mind a blank, a dizzying void. The world seemed to cease to exist; only the hot, thick penis throbbed within her tight honeyed orifice, wave after wave of pleasure exploding throughout her body.
Her two delicate breasts were squeezed forcefully, rough fingers kneading the tender nipples. Her long, beautiful legs were spread wide, her pert buttocks squeezed and deformed. The thick, hot penis began to thrust faster, the scalding glans brutally plunging deep into Leona's tender womb with each stroke. The girl's beautiful eyes rolled back, her small mouth slightly open, her flesh, fully moistened by honey, tightly gripping the penis.
Finally, the swelling reached its limit, the thick glans deeply penetrating the girl's womb, scorching magma erupting into this sanctuary of life. The girl slumped onto the table, having been swept to the peak of ecstasy by the powerful, fiery ejaculation deep within her body.
The boy rested for a moment, then sat back down in his chair, holding the boneless girl in his arms. The girl, panting, clung tightly to the boy's strong body, seemingly still recovering from her orgasm.
At that moment, another semi-transparent figure appeared on the table. "Looks like I've come at the wrong time." "
What happened, Diana?" The boy reached out and made a grasping motion in the air; a black robe on the floor floated up and draped over the chair, concealing their bodies.
"The Italians are making a move. They might have around 20,000 noble troops and mercenaries marching towards Zurich. The Milanese are providing the main force, but other city-states like Venice, Genoa, and Florence are also involved. It seems they all want a piece of the pie from us," the woman in the tabletop's illusory form stated calmly. It was as if the force advancing towards her location wasn't a menacing army of tens of thousands, but rather a pack of chickens and dogs.
"So those Italians think we've stolen too much of their business—our goods are more exquisite, and our loan interest rates and terms are much lower than those greedy moneylenders. Those unscrupulous merchants will naturally see this as a good opportunity to eliminate us." The boy snorted. "It seems most people don't have high hopes for us; they completely see us as fallen dogs, everyone wanting a piece of the pie." "
Of course, we only defeated a declining, fragmented France before; to many, that's nothing special." The girl in his arms finally regained her spirits and joined the discussion.
"Fragmented—after this battle, the Holy Rome should also be fragmented." The boy sneered. "Once the Viennese army suffers heavy losses, those nobles and citizens who have long been disgusted by the greedy Catholic priests will rise up." The conflict between Protestants and Catholics has been going on for decades, like tinderboxes ready to burst. We've just added fuel to the fire; a single spark will ignite a raging inferno. "
Indeed, the Protestant princes are highly likely to rebel, but the chances of victory are slim—a stalemate is more probable, perhaps leading to decades of war." Leonarde shifted in the boy's arms, finding a more comfortable position, and continued lazily, "But what does it matter to us? We're all children of God and Christ anyway; the more the merrier."
The boy affectionately stroked the girl's blonde hair. "It's getting late; let's sleep." He then bid farewell to the shadowy figure on the table, picked up the girl, and carried her to the back of the tent. There was a large wire cot there, quite comfortable with thick bedding.
After they lay down, the light that had been blazing brightly in the tent went out, and darkness enveloped them, lulling them into a sweet dream.
**********
...
This was a standard flintlock musket, a revolutionary weapon compared to the outdated matchlock muskets of the time, capable of firing only once per minute. Although it was their first time on the battlefield, after months of rigorous training—so rigorous that veterans remarked that combat was easier than training—Clark could now fire three times per minute. More experienced Swiss Army soldiers could reach four to five times per minute, and in exercises, the Guards achieved an astonishing rate of fire exceeding six times per minute.
Beyond their rate of fire several times that of the enemy, they possessed another secret weapon—their short swords could be inserted into a slot under the muzzle of their muskets. With this weapon, known as a bayonet, they had no fear of cavalry. Previously, the political commissar had them practice with wooden training rifles, aiming them at the eyes of warhorses. The sparring cavalrymen rarely gained the upper hand, as their horses quickly refused to advance out of fear. At this point, the political commissar said to them, "If even a strong warhorse cannot knock down an infantryman who only holds a stick, then on a battlefield filled with deafening roars, facing an infantry battalion equipped with bayoneted muskets, cavalry is even less likely to win—warhorses are more easily frightened."
The political commissar was a tall, imposing man—it seemed all the political commissars in the company were like that, dressed in a splendid black uniform, one hand gripping a saber, the other a revolver. The soldiers were afraid of the political commissars because they were extremely strict, and it was said they would ruthlessly execute deserters—many veterans said so. However, the soldiers still respected them, not only because they were first-rate warriors, but also because when soldiers were wounded, the political commissars skillfully bandaged their wounds, allowing more wounded soldiers to wait for the medics to arrive. Those political commissars seemed to know everything; if they weren't so cold and aloof, perhaps their prestige would surpass that of the sergeant major.
As for the company commanders—since the 2nd Division was a new unit, most company commanders were warrant officers, recent military academy graduates who basically only knew how to obey orders. The veterans only respected their shoulder insignia—that represented the commander-in-chief. The only exception was Lieutenant Zoro, the company commander of the 7th Company of the 1st Regiment. A top student at the military academy, he was exceptionally skilled in both marksmanship and swordsmanship. His sword was personally awarded by the commander-in-chief—a
prestigious weapon reserved only for the top five graduates of each year. The soldiers, arranged in three columns, began marching in orderly steps towards their designated positions at the command of their sergeants. The Guards Artillery Regiment, with the assistance of the Armored Grenadier Division, had already constructed makeshift fortifications using sandbags and wicker, and erected chevaux-de-frise in front of the positions. The Guards J?ger Battalion and the Guards Sniper Company would be deployed near the artillery positions; their accurate rifled muskets would pose a significant threat to the enemy. The 2nd Division would be deployed behind the artillery positions, ready to reinforce them at any time. The grenadier companies of the 2nd Division's battalions would be deployed on the artillery positions, assisting the artillery in battle, such as transporting shells. The light infantry companies would cooperate with the J?ger and Snipers. Although they lacked rifled muskets, their excellent marksmanship and the selection of smoothbore muskets and lead bullets made their shooting quite accurate. The light infantry were also equipped with bayonets, and if enemy cavalry broke through the barrage of grapeshot and lead bullets—though unlikely—the light infantry would form hollow squares to resist the enemy cavalry, at least until reinforcements arrived.
First to move forward were the armored grenadiers in black uniforms. They were tall, with stern faces, looking almost like they were cut from the same mold as the political commissar. They carried flintlock smoothbore muskets, and in addition to standard ammunition pouches, their backpacks also contained grenades. They differed from ordinary grenadiers in that they were equipped with steel helmets and breastplates. The dark armor seemed more than just decoration. Moreover, the grenadiers' bayonets were longer than those of ordinary line infantry.
Next came the Swiss 1st Infantry Division. The Swiss infantry wore red uniforms and looked quite spirited. It was said that the two regiments of the Swiss Guards stationed at the base also wore tall bearskin hats, looking very imposing.
Now it was finally their turn. Clark slung his musket over his shoulder and, following the orders of his sergeants, marched in unison with his comrades towards their designated positions.
Meanwhile
, in the best room in town—the former bedroom of the local lord—the obese Marshal Garas was finally awakened. Still sleepy from the exertion of the previous night, he asked irritably, "Why are you waking me up so early?"
His personal attendant replied with a forced smile, "My lord, those country bumpkins have made a move."
"Damn country bumpkins! They can't even give me a good night's sleep! Prepare breakfast. And order the entire army to attack immediately! Send those damned bastards to hell!
" "But…" the attendant hesitated.
"But what?" the marshal asked impatiently.
"But the soldiers haven't had breakfast yet," the attendant said, somewhat troubled.
"Tell them to finish this battle first.
" The vicious dogs of war are about to be unleashed.
(To be continued)

URL 1:https://www.sex3p.com/htmlBlog/187967.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=187967&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : 【The Life of Desire】(Part 3) The Goddess's Surrender

Next Page : [The Life of Desire] (Part Two): The Face Behind the Goddess

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

【The Eagle of Europe】(Prologue)

comment Open a new window to view comments