Empire of France. September 3, 1804.
In the bustling industrial cities of France, it was lunchtime. Workers took a break from their labor-intensive tasks. Some sat down to eat their meals, while others engaged in games and gambling with their fellow laborers.
"Newspaper from Paris! Fresh prints available now! Get yours for just two francs!" cried out a vendor as he walked through the bustling square, holding up a stack of newspapers. The factory workers, their hands still stained with the toil of their labor, paused to consider the offer. Two francs was a small but significant expense for them.
Amidst the clinking of coins and the exchange of money, newspapers began to circulate among the workers. They gathered in small groups, eager to catch up on the latest news from the capital.
As they unfolded the papers, their eyes scanned the headlines, and a murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd. The news was electrifying, and it spread like wildfire.
"The Empire of France defeats the Austrian Empire! Treaty of Hofburg signed!" one worker exclaimed, reading the headlines aloud for his companions.
Cheers and shouts of victory erupted, drowning out the clattering of machinery. The workers, their fatigue momentarily forgotten, exchanged triumphant glances.
They were the ones who had toiled tirelessly, day and night, in the factories, producing ammunition, shells, and weapons for the soldiers on the frontlines. Their hands, calloused and stained, had played an indispensable role in the triumph of the Empire of France.
"Long Live the Emperor!" the factory workers chorused, their voices resonating with pride and patriotism.
The vendor, his stack of newspapers rapidly diminishing, smiled as he witnessed the workers' jubilation. He had seen many headlines in his career, but none had elicited such a passionate response from the laborers.
"Long Live the Emperor!"
The joyful chorus of the factory workers reached the ears of the Empress of France, Ciela Bonaparte, as she sat inside one of the factory offices.
Ever since the war started, Ciela made sure that the logistics and the materials produced in her factory were on time and of the highest quality. She knew that the Empire's military success depended not only on the bravery of its soldiers but also on the efficiency and dedication of its workers.
As much as she wanted to cheer for her husband, she couldn't yet. The reason is, the war is not yet over. The Empire of France only knocked out Austria. Prussia and Russia remained at war with France.Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m
Her husband updated her about the development on the front. According to it, France is engaging the Prussian and Russian forces at Leipzig.
Napoleon said to her that if they won at Leipzig, Berlin would fall, and with it the Prussian involvement in the war.
If that were to happen, Napoleon's plan of creating a puppet state of the Kingdom of Germany would be realized.
"Yes Your Majesty?" Murat stepped forward and bowed.
"Marshal Murat, at midnight, you will lead a daring cavalry charge to the enemy lines. We have to neutralize Leipzig now or else the Prussians and Russians would set up fortresses like this in Leipzig."
"I will do my best, Your Majesty. I'll ensure that the cavalry is prepared and ready for the charge. We'll strike swiftly and decisively."
With a final salute, Murat turned and briskly left the command tent, his thoughts already on the upcoming battle. He gathered his officers, detailing the plan meticulously.
As the hours passed, tension hung in the air like a stormcloud, both among the soldiers and the commanders. The night was pitch black, with only the faintest sliver of the moonlight breaking through the clouds. The silence was deafening, broken occasionally by the distant sounds of cannon fire.
At last, the appointed hour arrived. The troops were in position, eleven thousand horses ready, their breaths visible in the chill of the night.
One minute later, French mortars fired illumination shells into the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. The bluish light illuminated the landscape, revealing the enemy positions.
Murat, on his black charger, surveyed the scene. He could see from his spyglass the dark forms of the enemy artillery positions, their cannons looming ominously. The machine guns were positioned strategically to protect them, ready to unleash a hail of bullets on any approaching threat.
Murat raised his sword high, the blade gleaming in the unearthly light of the illumination shells. It was time.
With a thunderous roar, the French cavalry surged forward, their horses galloping at full speed towards the enemy positions. The noise of hooves pounding against the earth was deafening, but it was overshadowed by the deafening crackle of enemy machine guns.
Horses fell in front, causing those behind to tumble, but the French cavalry pressed forward with relentless determination.
Two minutes later, Murat's cavalry penetrated the enemy lines and stormed toward the enemy artillery positions. Just like in Austerlitz, a close combat ensued.
But, Murat's cavalry was outnumbered three-to-one. Thirty thousand forces were defending Leipzig while Murat's men were only 10,000.
Napoleon already anticipated it would happen and so had sent Marshal Lannes, Soult, and Davout to support Murat's daring cavalry charge. As the French cavalry fought fiercely against the entrenched enemy forces, the timely arrival of Marshal Lannes, Soult, and Davout provided much-needed reinforcements and support.
The battle on the outskirts of Leipzig intensified and it went on for hours. The Prussian General tasked with defending Leipzig, the Duke of Brunswick, was shot in the head and fatally wounded during the heated combat. The fall of such a prominent enemy leader sent shockwaves through the Prussian forces.
Amid the chaos, the French commanders coordinated their efforts, exploiting the momentary weakness in the enemy's resolve. Marshal Lannes, with his seasoned troops, launched an assault on one of the key defensive positions, while Marshal Soult and Davout led their forces in a coordinated push against another vulnerable flank.
The battle for Leipzig raged on with fierce intensity until morning, when Prussian and Russian forces were forced to retreat to their next defensive lines at Wittenberg, the last line of defense of Prussia.
Napoleon smiled in satisfaction from his command tent.
"We will not give Prussia and Russia a break, continue towards Wittenberg, and to Berlin. Crush all their forces! Let's end this war by the end of the year!"