Chapter 685: The Holy Alliance to Exterminate Heresy
Franz II looked at his Minister of State, surprised.
"Only 20,000 troops? Is this the Military Committee's decision?"
It wasn't hard to understand his astonishment. Austria had deployed 40,000 soldiers to suppress the rebellion in Slavonia, yet only 24,000 troops were allocated for a full-scale war against Poland.
Baron Thugut looked slightly embarrassed.
"Your Majesty, if our goal is merely to seize the Lesser Poland region, this should be sufficient. As you know, our financial situation…"
Franz II waved his hand impatiently, cutting him off.
In reality, Austria's financial condition was hardly better than Prussia's. After the costly Silesian Wars and the conflict in the Southern Netherlands—where the fighting relied heavily on French troops but whose logistics Austria funded—the treasury was in shambles. Additionally, the Serbian rebellion had yet to be fully subdued.
The empire had been "bleeding" resources for years.
The South German market, facing stiff competition from France, had seen revenues plummet. Austria's coffers were barely holding together.
This dire situation was why Franz II was so eager to carve a piece out of Poland to recoup losses.
Yet the enormous military expenditures meant Austria could muster only 24,000 troops for the campaign.
Baron Thugut pressed on:
"Your Majesty, with most of Poland's forces occupied by Russia, the War Committee believes we'll face little resistance."
As he spoke, the emperor's attendant approached.
Franz II turned to him.
"What is it?"
"Your Majesty, Counts Schmeitz and Marquis Androsch, along with other nobles, request an audience."
"What do they want?"
"Um, Count Schmeitz mentioned responding to the Pope's call to join the Crusade…"
The Holy Roman Emperor's face darkened instantly.
"Crusade? That's just Polish propaganda! Tell them they are forbidden from mentioning it again!"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
In the corridors of Schönbrunn Palace, Count Schmeitz was passionately addressing a group of nobles waiting for an audience with the emperor.
"A century ago, the 'Spear of God' helped the empire repel the infidels besieging Vienna! Now, it's time for a new Crusade to join them on the Dnieper! His Majesty will surely agree to send troops."
He was referring to the late 17th century, when Ottoman forces besieged Vienna. At the time, Pope Innocent XI had organized a "Holy Alliance" to aid Austria, with the Polish winged hussars forming the main force.
The nobles responded enthusiastically:
"In the name of God!"
"The Holy Alliance! Destroy the heretics!"
Just then, the emperor's attendant emerged with a stern expression and scolded the crowd.
"Silence! His Majesty has declared that the so-called Crusade is Polish propaganda. No one is to mention it further."
The gathered nobles froze, dumbfounded.
North of Kyiv, Hornostaypil
General Smirnov, commander of the Ukrainian Corps, stood stunned as a cavalry unit clad in red uniforms, adorned with white wings, surged like molten lava into the rear flank of his infantry line.
The Cossack cavalry he had sent to intercept this force had disintegrated almost instantly. Now, the Ukrainian infantry's flank lay completely exposed to this "lava flow."
"Winged Hussars?"
Smirnov's face turned ashen as he muttered. His troops had already begun to rout, scattering in retreat.
"How… how is this possible?"
That very morning, he had been discussing with his staff how to intercept the Polish forces raiding Kyiv if they attempted to escape.
Indeed, Smirnov hadn't taken the Poles seriously at all.
Though the Polish defenders at Mozyr displayed a reckless fearlessness, they had been relentlessly hammered by Russian forces without putting up significant resistance.
Smirnov believed capturing the Polish forces before him would be an easy victory.
But two hours ago, the Poles had abruptly turned and launched a fierce assault on his forces.
Initially, Smirnov had been pleased, seeing an opportunity to earn military glory. He had immediately ordered his entire army to counterattack.
What he hadn't anticipated was the astonishing combat effectiveness of this Polish force. Their training, morale, and equipment rivaled—or even surpassed—his Ukrainian Corps.
Kościuszko's troops were the elite of Poland's army. Their morale was unmatched, honed by months of hard fighting against Serbian rebels. Their weapons, though modeled on the Russian Tula M1753 muskets, were manufactured under French supervision and exceeded the originals in accuracy and reliability.
The Polish force numbered 17,000, while Smirnov's contingent was barely 10,000.
Moreover, Colonel Chaperoff's Kyiv garrison, intended to support Smirnov, had failed to coordinate and was still idling near the city.
From the moment Smirnov's Ukrainian Corps engaged Kościuszko's Royal Third Infantry Division, they had been on the back foot.
Smirnov, seeing the tide turning, had begun organizing a retreat toward Mozyr when a thousand winged hussars suddenly charged out from the lower Teterev River.
The result was a total rout.
Lieutenant Colonel Madaliński, commanding the winged hussars, remained composed. After slicing through the Russian infantry, he regrouped his cavalry and redirected them toward the disorganized Cossack cavalry.
Meanwhile, Poland's infantry advanced, completely breaking Smirnov's defensive line.
Desperate, Smirnov committed his reserves, hoping to stem the Polish advance. But the winged hussars once again charged mercilessly into his regrouping infantry.
Mozyr, Marecze
General Morkov rode past the ruins of Marecze's clock tower, surveying the wounded Russian soldiers scattered across the battlefield. The corpses had already been cleared away, but the sight remained grim.
Capturing this small town had cost him over 2,000 soldiers and more than 30 cannons.
Earlier, he had recklessly pushed his artillery to the front lines to bombard Polish defenders hiding in buildings, achieving significant results. The Polish defensive lines quickly fell back.
However, a Polish skirmisher unit launched a desperate assault on his artillery positions. Though they were entirely wiped out, they managed to destroy more than 30 Russian cannons.
"These Polish lunatics!"
The memory of the carnage at his artillery position sent shivers down Morkov's spine—700 corpses crammed into a narrow space, with nearly every cannon buried under Polish dead.
Still, the town was finally his.
After a day of rest, he would launch a full-scale assault on Mozyr.
Just then, two blood-soaked cavalrymen galloped into view.
Spotting Morkov, they barely managed to stop their horses before shouting in panic:
"General, the Ukrainian Corps has been ambushed and requests reinforcements!"
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