NOVPUBAccording to Joseph’s original plan, Lefevre was supposed to lead his army south of Yukeler Town for a decisive battle against the main forces of the Prince of Coburg.
He and Lefevre both believed the Austrian Army might be unprepared, but at least basic marching protocols and perimeter vigilance would certainly be in place.
Who would have thought that the Prince of Coburg, confident in his vast numerical advantage, completely disregarded these concerns?
As a result, Lefevre attacked them as if ambushing a group of picnickers, achieving a swift and decisive rout.
Joseph placed the teacup he had just picked up onto the table and asked the officer reporting the situation, "Where is General Lefevre now?"
"The General should already have arrived near Mafnie Town, Your Highness."
Joseph rose and waved to Kesode, "Let’s go; we’re heading to Mafnie Town immediately."
The latter was instantly alarmed and tried to stop him: "Your Highness, the sky is about to turn dark. Why not wait until tomorrow…"
Joseph pushed aside his hand and signaled Eman to bring his coat. "My dear Guard Captain, this is a military mission. Please assemble the guards promptly for departure."
His decision to risk staying at Wavre was precisely to inspire the soldiers’ morale.
Wavre is only 9 kilometers from the site of Lefevre’s victory over the Prince of Coburg, well within frontline territory.
The Crown Prince ventures into danger to join everyone at the front lines—how could the soldiers not feel uplifted, brimming with fighting spirit?
If Franz II could also come to Southern Netherlands to oversee the battle, the Austrian Army, even if unable to defeat the French Army, would undoubtedly grit their teeth and hold out for ten days to half a month before collapsing, instead of falling to complete disarray in just an afternoon.
Having already taken the necessary risks, Joseph now aimed to maximize the impact.
7 p.m.
Southwest of Mafnie Town.
In the French Army’s temporary camp led by Lefevre, soldiers had already finished their evening meal and were tidying up their blankets under the moonlight, preparing to rest.
At that moment, a short bugle call echoed across the camp, and shortly after, commanders from each company received orders and began excitedly urging everyone to light their torches.
Within ten minutes, the entire campsite was illuminated.
The wounded soldiers in the infirmary were the first to catch sight of the Crown Prince’s ceremonial banner and eagerly climbed out of their beds, craning their necks to glimpse what followed behind.
The impeccably pressed white cavalry officer’s uniform, the handsome and youthful visage—it was the Crown Prince himself!
"Long live the Crown Prince!"
A soldier with an injured arm straightened up in excitement, standing proudly as he loudly proclaimed.
The entire camp was instantly filled with shouts of enthusiasm and pride, "Long live the Crown Prince!"
"At such a late hour, His Highness still comes to see us."
"It truly is His Highness!"
"For the Crown Prince!"
They had indeed heard beforehand that the Crown Prince was commanding the rear army at Wavre. Yet now, seeing him in person, visiting them, their hearts were filled with indescribable gratitude.
It turned out His Highness had always been fighting alongside them.
Their injuries were not in vain. No, these wounds were badges of supreme honor!
Joseph quickly gestured for everyone to lie back down on their stretchers, then extended his hand towards a soldier nearest to him.
The soldier was somewhat perplexed at first, but then realized the Crown Prince was clasping his hand and squeezing firmly.
Feeling the warmth in the palm of his hand, the soldier’s nose started to sniffle: "Your Highness…"
"France thanks you for your valor and sacrifice!" Joseph pressed his hand again. "I hope you recover soon."
"Yes, Your Highness!" the wounded soldier stood straighter, too moved to speak coherently, "I, you…"
Joseph nodded and lightly patted his arm, showing he understood, then helped him back onto his stretcher.
He then proceeded to the next injured soldier and clasped his hand firmly.
During this era, where aristocrats and commoners were sharply divided, ordinary soldiers not only hadn’t experienced such treatment—they hadn’t even heard of it. After the Crown Prince shook hands with them, they felt as though even their wounds hurt less than before.
After shaking hands with each wounded soldier, Joseph gave a brief speech and then moved on to the next section of the camp to comfort the infantry regiment’s soldiers.
Soon, the entire camp buzzed with excitement. Soldiers shouted "Long live the Crown Prince!" as though it was a holiday celebration...
It wasn’t until late at night that Joseph, having shown himself to over ten thousand soldiers, finally returned, exhausted, to Lefevre’s officer tent.
Lefevre appeared equally energetic and instructed an attendant to serve the Crown Prince some wine—the army’s standard provisions, available to every soldier. Tea, on the other hand, was a luxury in the ranks—and then stood to attention, saying, "Your Highness, although the soldiers are very tired, I believe the morale of Radetsky’s army must be even lower. If we launch an attack tomorrow, we can quickly take Mafnie Town."
He had just witnessed the soldiers’ eagerness for battle, their high spirits entirely unlike those of men who had marched tirelessly and fought half a day’s worth of battles.
No need to wait until tomorrow—if ordered to attack Mafnie Town now, they would likely take it immediately.
Joseph glanced at the map and raised his hand. "Radetsky’s 6,000 men could be wiped out at any time, but for now, leaving them intact might actually work in our favor."
Lefevre immediately grasped the meaning behind the statement. "You mean Josias might send reinforcements to rescue them?"
"Precisely." Joseph nodded. "My biggest concern is that he might retreat to Brussels instead."
Lefevre hesitated. "Your Highness, that doesn’t seem to pose much of a problem..."
Joseph smiled at him and said, "It could affect our capture of Brussels."
Lefevre felt a bit dizzy. He had originally believed that defeating the Prince of Coburg’s forces and securing the Walloon Region would constitute the most favorable outcome. He hadn’t anticipated that the Crown Prince had already set his sights on the Flemish Region.
Most of Brussels lies within the Flemish Region, with only a small part in the Walloon Region.
Lefevre hesitated and said, "Your Highness, the Southern Netherlands Field Army is mainly tasked with strategic defense. Wouldn’t such a large-scale offensive be…"
Joseph smiled. "If we strike until the enemy cannot organize an attack, our defensive objectives will naturally be secure."
Capturing Brussels wasn’t originally part of his plan, but the unexpectedly swift rout of the Prince of Coburg’s main forces had now presented a rare opportunity in the Southern Netherlands.
There were no Austrian troops left in Brussels, only Vidovich’s Dutch Army of 25,000. Or perhaps fewer by now—after all, they’d been scattered this afternoon by four cavalry battalions.
Joseph was well aware of the Dutch Army’s combat effectiveness, which was unquestionably the bottom tier on the European continent.
In other words, Brussels’ defenses were currently at their weakest.
Once the Atuwa Corps, Rettel Corps, and other veteran units arrived at Wavre, he would command a force of 23,000 soldiers, enough to potentially take Brussels!
