July 06th, 1799

Canclaux was still being used as a fortification by the republican army, thank heavens. With that city under their domain, taking over Anjou again would be easier.

Not easy, because said task last time was nearly impossible, but easier.

Also, the "field of death" Francis had once been forced to cross as a cadet was now gone. Before the royalists returned to Anjou, the republican army had dug mass graves near the city, and thrown all of the decomposing bodies stacked on its outsides there. So the corpses were buried, and the path between Anjou and Canclaux was clear.

That was also good to hear.

He still had nightmares about that field, at least once a month.

—We've stablished a blockade since last week, and cut off Anjou's provision supplies, but the farmers refuse to back down and admit their defeat —major general Obermann said, as him and the other high ranking officers of the army conversed in the war room of the old town hall—. So I've messaged major general Linières, and we've both arrived at the same conclusion: this senseless war against these countryside peasants must come to a definitive end. We've tried to reach an agreement, and we've tried to make them accept the new republic as a reality with gentle words and open dialogue, but they refuse to see the light of reason and progress... and therefore, they are a danger to our new nation. They must be killed. And we all must show no mercy towards them —he crossed his arms and looked down at the map in front of him—. We'll adopt a scorched earth policy, like the Ruhmnians did with us. This means destroying everything that allows the royalists to keep fighting. Water containers, barns, cellars, cattle, plants, tools, infrastructure... and people. Everything, and everyone, must be wrecked. No exceptions. Otherwise, this fight will be eternal.

—So you want us to erase Anjou from the face of the earth, is that it? —general Arquette asked.

Obermann sighed and looked up, with his face blank, and eyes completely devoid of feeling.

—Yes. That's precisely what I want you to do.

Francis and Laupin stared at each other in fear. They listened to the rest of the conference in complete silence, feeling their dread grow stronger with each new word uttered by Obermann. In the meanwhile, Séverin —who still worked as Laupin's secretary— was writing down everything said by the major general with care. Once the conference was done, he copied everything into a new sheet of paper, and gave it to Francis.

Not only did the document hold all of the orders given by the major general himself, it also contained a list of the most important officers that would be present at the final battle for Anjou, plus the numbers of soldiers they'd be in charge of:

• Major general Étienne Obermann (25.000 men)

    • General Camille Laupin (5.000)

         o Commander Francis Forestier (2.500)

          o Commander Jacques Desaix (2.500)

  • General Gregoire Arquette (5.000)

        o Commander Charles Lectoure (2.500)

        o Commander Antoine Labastide (2.500)

   • General Louis Santerre (5.000)

       o Commander Jules Fleurie (2.500)

       o Commander Arnauld Reck (2.500)

  • General Reynald Munsch (5.000)

     o Commander Thomas Auckner (2.500)

     o Commander André Tulard (2.500)

 • Cuirassier General Henri Luckner (5.000)

      o Major Alexandre Toulon (2.500)

      o Major Roger Verdi (2.500)

The list helped Francis visualize the storming of the city better —which calmed him down, a bit—. Because yes, he was feeling anxious about a battle, for the first time in ages. If it was because of the knowledge that he now had a wife to come home to or because of the orders he had no choice but to follow, he couldn't really tell. Maybe it was both.

Truth is, he did not want to invade Anjou again. The last time he did, a huge part of the city itself had been blown up to pieces. Needless to say, he didn't have any fond memories of that cursed day.

Francis also did not want to kill innocent women and children. But what Obermann said was what the Directory also wanted to happen, and so, he had no choice; he either murdered these bystanders of war, or got himself killed because of his cowardice.

Laupin seemed to be as equally disturbed about the whole ordeal as he was, at least. The general even served him a shot of liquor, once the conference was over and they were both left alone.

—Here's to coming back home alive —Camille raised his glass, looked up to the sky with pleading eyes, and drank the bitter concoction down, as Francis did the same.

Then, they got dressed, geared up for battle, shook hands and went on to fulfill their duty.

---

As he listened to the rhythmic rolls of the drummer boy, to the intimidating sound of a thousands of steps marching over a muddy soil, and to the beginning shots of the battle being fired in the distance, the commander only had one thought in mind:

—I need to return to Laura.

So he walked, and walked, and walked, ignoring the groans of pain of the wounded, the screams of terror of the dying, and the unsettling explosions of the cannonade until they reached Anjou.

He tried his hardest not to mind the ever increasing cacophony, in and outside of his skull. He tried not to care about the soldiers falling all around him, either hurt or killed by grapeshot. He refused to acknowledge the fear of death that shook him to the core each time he heard their distant howls of desperation and agony. He could not, for the sake of his own sanity, give their suffering any attention. He had to focus on the battle, on the enemy ahead of him, and on killing each and every one of them. That was his only job.

Compassion was lost when he stopped being a civilian.

This was war.

The first direct confrontation his troops had against the rebel farmers happed through volley fire. Then, it switched to fire by sections. And finally, when they were close enough to the city and the farmers began to retreat, the republican lines shifted into columns, and fired by ranks.

Once they were inside the streets of Anjou, as expected, the main show began. Buildings were set ablaze. Houses were blown to pieces. Men, women, children and the elderly, all slaughtered in the name of their new nation. All killed because of their loyalty to an already deceased and buried King.

Francis saw and did a lot of truly horrible things that day.

He watched as Luckner galloped down the main street with his infamous calvary force, the Black Skulls, and sliced open the backs of their foes with a sickening smile on his face.

He witnessed Laupin shoot a pregnant young woman in the eye, despite her chill inducing cries for mercy, and her striking looks, that reminded him far too much of his own wife.

He saw children yelling like grown adults at the windows of darkened buildings, completely engulfed in flames and smoke.

He cut open the throat of a teenage boy that tried to attack him, and saw him bleed out on the ground beneath his feet, unable to help him, or to even pity him.

And all Francis could think about, as the night fell and the city burned to a crisp, was how much he wished he could be lying next to Laura, and not standing in the middle of that massacre.

------

AN: More old concept art...