Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Sihaike beckoned to the major officer beside him, “Luca, how far are we from Leuven?”

The latter hesitated for a moment, glanced around, and replied uncertainly, “6 miles… maybe 8 miles?”

Sihaike, an amateur, hadn’t even sent out reconnaissance cavalry, so he truly had no idea where exactly they had marched to.

Sihaike nodded, leaned close to Luca Sihaike—who happened to be his nephew—and whispered, “What do you think we need to do to occupy Leuven?”

“Occupy it?” Luca recoiled slightly and glanced at the soldiers at his side. “With just these men?”

Previously just a lieutenant, Luca had been promoted to major by his uncle, who had recently risen to quasi-general. However, the combined command skills of the two wouldn’t even amount to one capable major.

Sihaike followed his nephew’s gaze and saw a few soldiers with tattered uniforms, lacking even blankets and hats, trudging forward listlessly.

These soldiers were remnants of the Austrian Army that Joseph had once defeated. After their surrender, logistical supplies were limited; some had swapped into Walloon Police uniforms, while others still wore their original military attire.

Luca murmured quietly, “If you really want to engage Colonel Deziweihe, we might end up surrendering once again…”

Deziweihe was the Austrian officer responsible for guarding Leuven.

Sihaike glared fiercely at his nephew, about to chastise him, but suddenly had a thought. His gaze swept over the poorly outfitted soldiers, and he mused, “You mean surrender? Hmm, that might be an idea…”

Luca quickly gestured in protest, “Absolutely not! Uncle, we’d be better off returning directly.”

He knew well that surrendering to Austria would spell a dead end for his uncle and him. Their previous defection to France was likely to earn them charges of treason from the Austrian Emperor.

More importantly, his uncle was now a quasi-general, and he himself had become an officer. If they left the protection of the French, all of this would vanish like smoke.

Sihaike chuckled smugly, “No, I really do plan to surrender to Deziweihe.”

“Pick out 300 reliable soldiers for me immediately and have them switch into Austrian uniforms. Hurry!”

“Oh, wait, give each of them 10 florins as well.”

“What?” Luca’s mouth gaped open, but upon seeing his uncle raise the riding whip, he hurriedly nodded, “Yes, General!”

After his nephew left, Sihaike summoned Captain Vimier and gave him detailed instructions.

Vimier was the most capable officer among the “Defector Army” under his command, though the man didn’t hold him in high regard. Sihaike typically avoided interacting with him.

But at this moment, he had no choice but to rely on the company commander.

By the following afternoon, at five-thirty.

A group of “West Malle Army” stragglers appeared outside Leuven City.

These men claimed to be a unit transporting logistical supplies for the Duke of York, but due to the Allied Forces’ defeat by the French Army at Mechelen, they had been driven here.

Having already heard some news from Mechelen, and seeing these soldiers in tattered Austrian uniforms speaking Dutch, Colonel Deziweihe had no suspicions. He allowed them to enter Leuven City and provided them with food and wine.

Among the “stragglers,” several officers began recounting the Allied Forces’ disastrous defeat, asserting that 60,000 French troops had already pushed the front lines into the Netherlands. The garrison at Leuven listened in a state of mounting fear.

Another day passed, and Vimier led 1,000 “Defector Army” troops dressed in Walloon Police uniforms to the western outskirts of Leuven.

Colonel Deziweihe hastily formed his troops for battle. Yet, the rumors of the Duke of York’s defeat had severely dampened morale, and his nearly 2,000 soldiers were consistently beaten back.

By afternoon, the “stragglers” infiltrating Leuven ignited the city’s supply warehouses and spread rumors that “10,000 French troops are about to begin the siege.”

Thus, when the Austrian soldiers guarding the city spotted Sihaike’s army of several thousand in the distance, their final will to resist crumbled away.

Even Colonel Deziweihe became convinced that what he saw was the vanguard of “10,000 French troops.”

After weighing his options, he ultimately heeded the unanimous advice of his officers and abandoned Leuven, fleeing toward Shanghai Reel.

Upon receiving Vimier’s report that Leuven was securely under his control, Sihaike finally breathed a sigh of relief and began heading toward the city. He had been stationed 4 kilometers away the entire time, ready to retreat with his nephew should Deziweihe’s forces emerge victorious.

To his surprise, Leuven fell into his hands so easily through deception.

After holding a grand entry ceremony, Sihaike wasted no time in sending news of the “Leuven Victory” to the Crown Prince of France.

He then assigned his nephew and Vimier to guard the city while he retreated with his escort 2 kilometers south to a small village, fearing that Deziweihe might return with his forces.

…

Mechelen.

Joseph received word in the morning of Jiaya’er’s successful capture of Brussels, and by the afternoon, he heard from members of the “Flemish Army” that Leuven had fallen as well.

He wasn’t surprised that the Walloon Defense Army was able to defeat the Dutch. After all, the Defense Army originated from the Walloon Police trained by the Paris Police Academy; their combat strength was certainly not inferior to the regular armies of the Allied Forces like Prussia and Austria.

However, Sihaike’s ability to seize Leuven genuinely amazed him.

After asking detailed questions about the Battle of Leuven, Joseph couldn’t help but marvel internally.

Sihaike might not possess military talent, but he certainly had some cunning tricks up his sleeve. It seemed that, in the political arena of the Flemish Republic, Tai’en might not necessarily be his match in the future.

Joseph looked at the map on the wall. The unexpected capture of Leuven had given him a certain strategic advantage in the Flemish Region.

Leuven guarded the eastern corridor to Brussels.

This meant that Austria and Prussia now had no choice but to reinforce the Duke of York by traveling through Shanghai Reel, through Holland, skirting north of Antwerp.

The opportunity to counterattack the Anglo-German-Austrian Alliance Forces had emerged.

Of course, before that, control over Brussels needed to be stabilized. Simultaneously, the western province of Ghent had to be seized as well.

By then, Southern Netherlands would be reduced to having only Antwerp Province still in enemy hands.

Holland would no longer be secure.

“Your Highness, it’s almost two o’clock,” Eman appeared at the door and softly reminded him, “You need to attend the General Staff Operations meeting.”

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

Joseph turned left upon exiting the tent; the operations tent was just 30 meters away.

Lefevre and the others were enthusiastically discussing the news, clearly already aware of the victory at Brussels.

Dawu spoke loudly, “From now on, as long as we hold Brussels, the enemy won’t gain anything in Southern Netherlands!”

Lefevre nodded with a smile, “I’ve just received news that Major Marseena has already prepared for the full assault in Diekirch, with the Prussian main forces positioned northeast of him.”

Diekirch was a key city in northern Luxembourg and also the site selected by the French Rhein Army for the decisive battle.

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