She changed Europe

Page 47

Gisela is now 165cm tall, which is considered tall for a woman in an East Asian country, and at only 14 years old, she still has room to grow. However, for women in Western countries, her height is considered average or even short. But, to each their own.

She's not planning to get married, so why should she care about what men think of her?

However, Gisela only hoped that she was a little taller than Rita, since being shorter than her maid meant she was inherently at a disadvantage in terms of presence.

Back to the present, after Gisela entered the carriage, she had to look up to see the faces of these common soldiers. Noticing this detail, the captain quickly waved his hand to signal the soldiers to bend down. After all, for a commoner of low birth to be looked up to by the princess of the empire was an act of overstepping his bounds.

"No need, Captain. I just wanted to see the spirit and condition of your soldiers. Soldiers shouldn't kneel down so easily, especially those about to go to the battlefield. They deserve our respect." These soldiers are fighting for this country; they deserve our respect.

Like the Romanov dynasty in the north, the Habsburg dynasty once drove its people with whips, making them fight for them, but they never gave their people true dignity. Rather than simply fighting for a monarch, Gisela wished that the soldiers of the empire before her were fighting for themselves and their homeland from the bottom of their hearts, because only soldiers who understood this could truly unleash their potential.

The soldiers were somewhat surprised to hear Gisela's words, as they were already used to the noble officers riding roughshod over them.

The word "dignity" was both familiar and unfamiliar to them. When the words came from the mouth of the noble prince, they realized that this prince might really be different from those people.

Everyone says that the empire's second princess is different from others. She doesn't like pretty dresses or jewelry (she's not interested), she doesn't act unreasonably or act willfully (she's too old to be willful), she is exceptionally talented but willing to remain unknown (she wants to keep a low profile), she opposes extravagance and advocates frugality (she's stingy), she cares about the people and wants to improve their lives (she wants to follow the mass line), she is not interested in romantic love but is devoted to the country (she only likes women).

Thinking this way, the soldiers' affinity with Gisela naturally increased significantly.

Gisela observed the imperial soldiers. Their morale was relatively good; they showed no signs of pessimism, and their weapons were new. However, there seemed to be a lingering confusion in their eyes. More accurately, they lacked a clear sense of combat awareness; they didn't know what they were fighting for. As for slogans like "For His Majesty the Emperor," they were of little practical use at this point.

Gisela finally fixed her gaze on the soldier who was about to be hit, then raised her hand and pointed at Švejk.

"You! Come out with me for a moment." Schweik looked at the beautiful woman in front of him with a puzzled expression. Although he didn't know what a princess was, his mother had said: "Whenever you meet a girl you like, you should listen to her."

"What's your name, sir?" Gisela asked the somewhat simple-minded soldier in front of her.

"My name is Schweik." Schweik rubbed the tip of his nose, looking a little reserved.

"Schweik?" The name Schweik was all too familiar to Gisela. After all, the well-known book "The Good Soldier Schweik" by Yaroslav Hašek had accompanied her through her student days. The jokes satirizing the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the book had made her laugh countless times. She had even once complained, "How could such a ridiculous country as the Austro-Hungarian Empire exist in the world..." (Fate is cruel).

Chapter 173 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 34 Shahrardo's Thoughts (Votes)

"Your Highness, we will also shed our last drop of blood for the Empire!"

"Our Czech legion will absolutely not let Your Highness down!"

"With the white lion and the double-headed eagle together, Bohemia will always be the empire's solid backing." As the only sub-king among the hundreds of princes of the Holy Roman Empire, Bohemia has been the cornerstone of the empire's rule from ancient times to the present.

The soldiers responded enthusiastically to Gisela's words, expressing their loyalty and support for the princess. The so-called concept of national identity wasn't as deeply ingrained in the hearts of ordinary Czechs as it appeared. For the vast majority, national independence wasn't particularly important; as long as life was manageable, no one would be idle enough to rebel every day. It was precisely this inherent inertia and passive political attitude that made them easier for those with ulterior motives to exploit and incite.

Moreover, the empire is not yet on its deathbed, and it would not be difficult for Gisela to gain the support of these rank-and-file soldiers.

"Thank you all so much. See you in Italy." Gisela clapped his hands and jumped off the box. Just then, the train whistle sounded before departure. The soldiers on the platform called to the soldiers who had not yet entered the carriages to hurry up and get on the train. After a final headcount, they closed the heavy metal doors.

Gisela noticed that the soldier named Schweik was smiling foolishly at her until the car door closed, as amusing as a憨厚 (honest and simple) husky.

"Your Highness, thank you for your hard work." The captain saluted Gisela and then boarded the officers' carriage with the other officers. Thus, the first imperial army composed of Czechs departed from Prague and headed for Italy without hesitation.

Watching the train disappear into the distance, Gisela breathed a sigh of relief. She rarely gave speeches, let alone one in a station with nearly a thousand people. Although she wasn't stage-frightened, she was truly exhausted. Noticing Gisela's fatigue, Shahrado very considerately and thoughtfully leaned close to her and began massaging her shoulders.

As a qualified masseuse and a master of massage, Shahrador only needed one session to grasp Gisela's basic physical condition. Moreover, having chosen to stay by the princess's side, she needed to prove her worth. Although she couldn't control her thoughts, she could try to control her body, making her dependent on her. Only then could she legitimately stay by her side and later pursue her political ambitions. This was the political wisdom of the Turkish court.

“Put your hands…” Rita narrowed her eyes, shoving Shahrado away with hostility, and moved closer to Gisela. She raised her slender, fair hands and gently massaged Gisela’s shoulders. Perhaps knowing Gisela’s preferences, or to give Gisela a better feeling, Rita intentionally or unintentionally let Gisela rest the back of her head against her chest…

The soft, rose-like fragrance filled the air, and Gisela truly felt a rare sense of comfort. However, Gisela was unaware of what the two were competing for; at that moment, she was still pondering how the Imperial Army should be deployed in Italy and how to defend against the Allied forces' attack.

"If we're going to hold Milan, the outer defenses must be well-constructed, but we shouldn't spread our resources thin; we should focus on key areas." After all, the empire doesn't have a sufficient army scattered across the vast plains of northern Italy. Gisela didn't know much about Marshal Güle and her aunt, Grand Duke Freya of Tessen, but this time the marshal was her superior, and theoretically, she still had to obey their orders.

"I wonder what Garibaldi will do next. Judging from the timing, she will definitely cause trouble in this Italian War of Independence. Whether it's her tactics or the subsequent expedition of a thousand men, these are things we have to be wary of." Thinking of Gisela, Rita shook her head helplessly. Just then, she didn't control her strength when massaging Gisela's shoulder properly, making Gisela's shoulder hurt.

"Rita hurts! Let Miss Shahrador do it instead. You go find me a map." Gisela raised her hand and touched her ear. Lately, she'd been touching her ears occasionally when she had nothing to do. This habit had replaced her old habit of curling her hair when she was thinking. As for the reason... well, Gisela found it surprisingly comfortable.

“But…” Rita pursed her lips, clearly unwilling, but she wasn’t the type to show her dissatisfaction on her face, so she could only step aside.

"Thank you for your trouble, Miss Shahrador." Gisela didn't seriously consider Rita's dissatisfaction, still carefree and thinking about her own problems.

Shahrado blinked her alluring purple eyes with a smile, revealing a somewhat provocative smile where Gisela couldn't see. Clearly, she had a wicked sense of humor and was simply trying to provoke Rita.

"You!" Having finally met her match, Rita pursed her lips, wanting to say something, but remembering Gisela's orders, she turned and went to find a map for Gisela. Watching Rita disappear into the distance, Shahrado's smile faded, and she sighed. Some things, though unwilling, had to be done; whether for herself or for that person, she needed to fight for it…

Thermidorian Almond Day (August 1, 1870)

In summer, the trade winds from the Mediterranean blow through the fields of purple lavender, carrying their fragrance to faraway places. This is a blessing from the sea goddess, the best gift for the devout coastal people. The wheat fields are lush, the fruits ripen, and all things are at peace; this year will surely bring a good harvest.

A haven for vacationers, the birthplace of French poetry and romance, this place has been beloved since Roman times. "Intoxicated by the purple sea of ​​flowers, love is so sweet. When the wind blows, the scent of lavender always wafts around, mingling with the fragrance of earth under the sunlight, filling the air with memories and longing, just like lavender, walking together through those timeless moments."

Shirley smoothed her golden hair, bent down, and gently plucked a blooming lavender flower. She carefully observed the purple sprite in her hand, a feeling of contentment welling up inside her.

"Miss Dark, do you like lavender?" Shirley asked the silver-haired girl standing beside her, almost as if talking to herself.

PS1: This is the French Republican Calendar.

Chapter 174 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 35 The French Divide (Seeking Votes)

"Lavender? What's so interesting about those delicate flowers?" The silver-haired girl frowned slightly, her fair and delicate face filled with disdain. Despite her words, she still patiently observed the flower in Shirley's hand.

“Miss Darque, do you know that although lavender only blooms for a few months, if you dry it and put it in a sachet, its fragrance can last for years? And in the court, perfumes with this fragrance are very popular in social circles.” Shirley looked at Darque with tenderness. As a patriot, Shirley had an innate fondness for this Duke of Orléans, who was also a French magic user like herself. Moreover, Miss Darque had saved her life a few months ago.

“Fragrant flowers attract ripples, willows and umbrellas, and bees swarm.” Dark’s words were still harsh, but Shirley didn’t care at all.

"Then, Your Grace, Princess Jeanne de Dalque, why do you smell just like the little one in my hand?" Shirley covered her mouth and laughed, because the refreshing fragrance emanating from the Princess Dalque was that of lavender. Although it was a bit light and not as rich as the flowers in her hand, Richelieu, with his keen sense of smell, still noticed it.

"Hmph! That's just your imagination. We're right here in a sea of ​​flowers. It's not uncommon for such an illusion to happen." Darke turned her head to the side, retorting impatiently, but she didn't realize the evasive look in her golden eyes as she spoke.

“But I prefer the violet, both for its fragrance and the spirit it symbolizes.” Shirley stood up, stretched her arms, and yawned comfortably. Her graceful figure, her golden hair fluttering in the wind, and the stunning beauty standing amidst the purple sea of ​​flowers—all the most beautiful aspects of France were captured in this moment.

"We have to go. His Majesty the Emperor has already arrived at the military camp. Your injuries have just healed. If something happens to you again, I won't be able to care about you anymore." Dark rubbed his head and continued to remind Shirley in a cold tone with a serious expression, then turned his back and walked towards the exit of the flower garden.

Then, an unexpected change occurred, as if to confirm Jeanne's words. Suddenly, Shirley lost all her strength and fell straight to the ground.

Actually, she didn't dislike the smell of the soil from her homeland... This was the only way Shirley could comfort herself after losing control of her body.

The attack months ago had a huge impact on Richelieu. The severe injuries and the damage caused by forcibly increasing his magical power would take a long time to fully recover. And that was for a magical power user. If an ordinary person were to face a direct attack from a magical armor, it would be a miracle to survive.

Shirley closed her eyes, but the scent of earth didn't come. Instead, a pair of gentle hands cradled her body, and the faint scent of lavender was still so familiar.

“I already told His Majesty you didn’t need to come, but he insisted that the French army couldn’t lose to Austria in numbers, and that even if it was just to make up the numbers, he had to send you.” Jeanne bit her lip, speaking ill of Napoleon III with great dissatisfaction.

In his view, His Majesty the Emperor was nothing but a selfish and foolish man who didn't care about the well-being of his subordinates at all!

"Hmph! You can't even make up the numbers." The words were still sarcastic, but Shirley could still sense the concern in them.

"You still say you don't care about me?" Shirley thought to herself with a smile as she reached out and touched Dark's pale, cool cheek.

"Alright, Miss Darke, this is my own decision and has nothing to do with His Majesty. If possible, would you please carry me to the military conference in France?"

“What a nuisance!” Jeanne frowned. She had never liked Richelieu’s morbid sense of responsibility. If she were Richelieu, she could ignore the emperor’s orders. After all, the country now depended on His Majesty for their rule, not the other way around.

For the French people, the only thing they recognized was the Bonaparte family name.

At this time, in the military camp on the outskirts of Provence—

“Miss McMahon, I told you, our army is not in a hurry to enter Italy.” The speaker was a man of moderate height with dark curly hair, but sharp eyes and a powerful presence. The French Marshal's uniform looked imposing on him. He was Charles-Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of the Second French Empire, successor to Empress Napoleon, leader of the Bonapartist faction, and a man who successfully became emperor under a republican system.

“But Your Majesty, our army has already entered Savoy and Nice, and has now effectively taken over all affairs in the Kingdom of Sardinia. If we do not take some concrete actions, how can we expect the Italians to be willing to fight for us?” Miss McMahon, wearing glasses, although she disagreed with Napoleon III politically, as a magic user and general of the French army, naturally tried to persuade His Majesty the Emperor rather than directly disobeying orders.

"You don't need to worry about that; I have my own arrangements," Napoleon III replied calmly to McMahon, then fixed his gaze on the map behind him.

“Your Majesty! We have a railway transport system far superior to Austria’s, and our soldiers can be deployed to the front lines much faster. Why should we waste such a good opportunity!” McMahon still did not give up trying to persuade Napoleon III to immediately allow the French army to join forces with the Sardinian army.

“Miss McMahon, do you really think this is a simple war against Austria?” This time, it wasn’t Napoleon III who responded to McMahon, but Marshal François Certânçon-Comrobet of France. This marshal, a graduate of the Saint-Cyr Military Academy, was one of Napoleon III’s confidants. He played a key role when Napoleon III launched his coup, and more than a decade ago, he served as the commander-in-chief of the French army in the Crimean War, participating in the war against the Russian Empire. Although he was not a magic user, his outstanding military achievements earned him his current position.

"What do you mean, sir?" McMahon clearly did not understand what the Emperor and the Marshal were planning.

“The Austrians must be defeated, but the Italians must also bleed. We don’t want to see a powerful Sardinian kingdom rise in northern Italy; that would not benefit us at all. So the best outcome is for Austria and Italy to bleed together, while we help them and remain unscathed.” Cornelius explained his strategic intentions to the young general, trying to convince her that the current strategic arrangement was the best outcome.

France's enemies were never just Austria; there was also that island nation across the English Channel, and that was their real thorn in their side...

PS1：燕云十六7m删另4 起掺声剧情还挺有意思的0v0！

Chapter 175 Irises Wither in the Alps (Part 2) - Part 2: Capter 36 Gisela's Working Status

"But sir! You seem to have forgotten something. We currently hold the territory of the Kingdom of Sardinia. What if the kingdom can't hold on and sides with Austria, and Austria demands that we return the territory of the Kingdom of Sardinia? Then we will become the real invaders."

We will not only lose our last vestige of influence in Italy, but also become a negative example for other European countries and a laughingstock. McMahon was dissatisfied that the two men, despite having already decided to go to war, were constantly thinking about politics. Military affairs are a continuation of politics, but that does not mean that military affairs are an appendage of politics.

"Enough! The following meeting is confidential, so those who do not meet the required rank should leave," Napoleon III said, waving his hand. In fact, there were only three people in the tent at this time, and the meaning of his words was self-evident.

McMahon pushed up his glasses angrily, then resolutely walked towards the tent exit, leaving only the two people inside.

She walked outside the tent, took out a cigarette from her uniform pocket, lit it, took a deep drag, and then exhaled the gray smoke from her mouth as if sighing.

Just then, they encountered Jeanne de Darc, the Duke of Orléans, and the little girl from the Duke of Richelieu's family, whom she was carrying on her back.

"What are you doing here? Has that guy finished his meeting?" Darke's tone was very indifferent, after all, she had no interest in attending Napoleon III's military conference and had no respect for the emperor either.

“Miss McMahon must have been asked to come out, which makes sense given Charles’s personality,” Charlie, on Jeanne’s back, sighed and answered Jeanne’s question.

“That’s right. Our great Emperor Napoleon still believes that he is the nation, even though we are just a bunch of barbarians from Corsica.” McMahon was not of noble birth; her loyalty to the Orthodox Dynasty was mainly due to the influence of her friend, Elizabeth de Lacroix, daughter of the Duke of Castries. However, compared to most Orthodox Dynasty members who joined the Order Party, she appeared more moderate.

“Charles must have his own considerations.” Charlotte still didn’t forget to say a few good words for Napoleon III. After all, internal unity was the most important thing during wartime, and political interests could be put aside in her opinion.

"You're absolutely right, sir of the Sword of Roland and descendant of the Saint of Orléans, you are the knights and saints who defended France." France threw you into the mud to soak you up, and you responded with a song. Alas, I am but a mortal.

McMahon threw the cigarette butt on the ground, stomped it out with his boot, and strode forward with firm steps.

"Huh?! You want me to defend France? Don't be ridiculous. I'm just used to being in France. If that day ever comes, so be it." Jeanne's lips curled up, looking completely indifferent.

"Clang!" Shirley slapped Jeanne on the head with a chop.

"What are you doing, woman! Believe me or not, I'll throw you off." Jeanne turned around and looked at the blonde girl on her back with a displeased expression, her golden eyes full of displeasure.

“Don’t talk nonsense, France will not perish,” Charlotte scolded.

Jeanne did not respond to Shirley directly. Instead, she shrugged helplessly and continued walking forward, only tightening her grip on Shirley's hand a little more.

Unlike the scheming Napoleon III, the Austro-Hungarian Empire's deployment was not as swift as they believed. Due to limited railway scheduling and transport capacity, Marshal Güle was still lingering near Venice, hundreds of kilometers away from Milan.

Of the 150,000 troops in the five armies under Julai’s command, only the Bohemian defense forces, which had made better preparations beforehand, had successfully arrived outside Milan and joined forces with the troops of Grand Duchess Freya Tessen. The remaining troops were still in Mantua and Patowa awaiting further train transport.

If the remaining troops can reach Milan in a week, that would be a blessing.

With its main force not yet in place, the Austrian army dared not launch an attack on the Kingdom of Sardinia rashly. Although the main force of the Kingdom of Sardinia was only 5 men, the empire simply did not have enough strength to unleash its full power and deliver a fatal blow to the Italians.

At this time, outside Milan, at the estate where Freya, the Lombard governor's own aunt, had prepared for Gisela to stay.

Originally, Gisela's aunt, considering her status, offered the princess her estate as a temporary residence as a gesture of goodwill. Unfortunately, the princess seemed not to understand her "good intentions." She only chose one of the more spacious rooms, using the rest of the space as a temporary command post and field hospital.

Of course, the princess also thoughtfully packed up all her collections and had them transported to her residence, making it seem as if she was helping her transfer the property.

Freya had a lot to discuss with her niece about this, and she even considered complaining to the Emperor. Unfortunately, she was too busy with the war to do so, so she had to give up.

"My head hurts!" Gisela was on the verge of a complete breakdown and her temper was about to explode. Because she hadn't rested well, she not only had dark circles under her eyes, but her once silky golden hair had also become dry and split. Not to mention her lively fox ears, which were drooping like deflated balloons.

To work more effectively, she even moved her desk into her bedroom, completely disregarding any semblance of ladylike modesty by using a bed curtain as a barrier. The desk was piled high with documents, and behind it lay a map of northern Italy covered in diagrams—the fruits of Gisela's labor over the past few days.

"Don't understand how to defend? It's okay, just remember to focus on key defenses and use space to buy time. Don't aim to defeat the enemy, just annoy them. If you can't win, retreat. Huh? You don't know how to retreat? Just take this route, dig traps and throw poison along the way. Don't burn the farmland, scorching the fields isn't worth it."

The scorched-earth policy would harm ordinary Italian civilians, and Gisela needed the hearts and minds of the Italian people. He would never do something so offensive unless absolutely necessary.

"What? The garrison on the west bank of the Ticino wants to request an attack? With their mere 2 men, they think they can take on a main force of tens of thousands? What? The Sardinian army is provoking us? Are you all so impatient? Is it because Napoleon III keeps clamoring to overthrow Vienna and capture His Majesty the Emperor that you're all going to rush in headlong?" Such roars echoed throughout the room. Even Tifa, who was passing by, had never seen Gisela so angry.

Seeing the last officer leave the office, Gisela collapsed onto her bed, kicking off her boots and exposing her feet.

PS1: I've been feeling inexplicably tired lately, is it because I'm weak? QAQ

Chapter 176 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 37 Su Beiming Takes Office (Seeking Votes)

"I want a real general staff too! I don't want to deal with this nonsense anymore!" During the last war against Denmark, Gisela focused primarily on weaponry and troop training. This time, she realized she had overlooked the importance of a robust military system: the Empire needed a general staff as capable as Prussia's. The commander-in-chief needed to strategize and plan tactics, not waste energy on these trivial matters. After all, even if you did everything personally, you couldn't do everything perfectly.

The reason for assuming the current command function is mainly due to His Majesty the Emperor's order that Gisela should command the defense of Milan and Lombardy before Marshal Güle arrives, while Grand Duchess Freya of Tessen will act as an assistant rather than the direct commander.

This can actually be seen as Emperor Joseph giving Gisela a chance to practice, since his daughter is a magic user. Even if she cannot inherit the throne in the future, she can assist his brother Rudolf and become an imperial military commander similar to Grand Duke Karl.

"Sigh! It's been so long since I've slept." It turns out that after forcing yourself to stay up all night for several days, you're less likely to feel sleepy. This lack of sleepiness is often a dangerous signal from your body. When you don't want to sleep at a certain time, it means your biological clock is disrupted, and a disrupted biological clock is obviously extremely harmful to a person.

"Damn it, it's starting to hurt again." Gisela squinted, curled up, hugged her bent legs with her right hand, and gently rubbed her stomach with her left hand.

A sharp pain shot through her lower abdomen, causing her to gasp for breath.

"It's always the same thing that messed up at the crucial moment. It'll be at least a few more days before the pain starts." Gisela bit her lip and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead.

"You can't even handle this little bit of pain? You're still as useless as ever." At this moment, Su Beiming's voice came from Gisela's mind again, his tone carrying that innate arrogance and coldness.

"You know I wasn't a delicate woman in my past life. I'm not as experienced as you," Gisela said, turning over and brushing aside her golden hair as she panted.

In short, Gisela was trying to bring up Su Beiming's age, something Su Beiming was naturally well aware of.

"If you want to rest, I can switch bodies with you, how about it?"

"When did Your Highness become so considerate of your subordinates?"

"Then you can continue to feel pain; I won't care anymore."

"No, no, no! Lord Su, you are a magnanimous person and will not hold a grudge against me. I will let you rest in my sea of ​​consciousness for a while and leave this place to you." Gisela would naturally not refuse such a good thing as being able to get rid of physical fatigue.

As soon as she finished speaking, the scene before Su Beiming's eyes brightened considerably, clearly indicating that she had returned to the present... hiss...