December 15th, 1799

"My dear, my beloved.

I'm pleased to inform that I'm on my way back home. The battle for the capital of Harmania was successful, and we have repelled the Ruhmnians forces for good.

Marshal Lugo wrote a letter to the director of the republican Army, Justine Neckel, informing that our mission in this country has been completed, and requested the immediate retreat of our legion. Since we've been on the front lines for three months now, we're the ones who suffered the most losses, and our men are the most tired. Knowing these facts to be undeniably true, Neckel agreed. Which means we're going home, at last.

We'll be able to spend the new year together, my love.

Words do not suffice to explain to you just how happy I am to write this news down. The thought of leaving this freezing, horrid place and running right back into your arms is absolutely delightful.

The final battle between us and the Ruhmnian forces was... gruesome, to say the least. Charlie was wounded in the chest, and had to be pulled back into the city, for urgent medical attention. He is alive, and doing better now, thank God. I myself had my leg sliced like a Christmas turkey by a bayonet, but the bleeding wasn't dangerous enough to keep me from fighting, let alone living. Jacques survived the fight unscathed, that lucky bastard. Camille was hit in the head with the butt of a musket, but he's also fine. A little bit confused and nauseous at times, but still breathing and conscious.

The only "important" loss we suffered was the loss of major general Alonse Marie. I didn't know him all that well, since he had a tendency to keep to himself, but Obermann did, and he wrote a thoughtful and kind letter to his widow, to let her know that her husband was a hero until the very end. I also had the chance to write a small paragraph for her, and although I was brief, I hope my words are able to console her through these difficult times.

I honestly feel sorry for the poor woman. She lost her husband in the last battle of the campaign. That's terrible.

But anyway, back to the conflict itself. Since you asked me on your last letter to be more "descriptive" when writing about them, I'll try to make a better use of my pen and of my recollections of the events, and give you as many details of them as I can. You do know I'm not a prolific writer, and I'm far away from being a poet, so don't expect anything too grandiose from me. Still, I'll comply to your wishes, to the best of my abilities. I hope my attempt pleases you, even if just a little:

Firstly, we faked a retreat from Petrovak, tricked about 5.000 enemy soldiers into walking to the city square, and ambushed them there. Our troops were hiding in the surrounding buildings, without their knowledge. It was easy to overpower and slay them; the surprise factor helped. We had few casualties at this specific part of the battle.

Then, once they were dead, we marched towards the Lutkin forest, where the rest of the Ruhmnian forces hid. A few our chasseurs had spotted them the day before, on a reconnaissance mission, and discovered that 2 corps and 1 brigade hid in a small town on the other side of the woods. I do not remember the name of said town, but I can tell you how it looked: tiny, poor, and was mainly inhabited by local farmers. The buildings were not like the ones we saw in the capital. They were of very short height, made mainly of wooden logs, slabs, veneers, moss —plants they stuffed between the logs to keep the freezing air outside from coming in— and rocks. The cattle were kept inside of stables made of the same material, as did their crops. There was a small frozen pond to the north —where the civilians used to fish, before they were displaced and kicked out of their homes by the soldiers— and more pine trees everywhere else.

Once we found this town, we did not waste our time. We stormed them, and attacked them before they could attack us.

If my calculations are correct, we had about 125.000 men fighting for the republic, and 105.000 fighting for the empire.

In the end we won, but barely. It was a very difficult fight. The terrain was full of snow, the fog was thick and heavy, the air so cold we couldn't feel our fingers, the guns weren't shooting as well as they should, most of us were struggling with illnesses and coughs, some were so sick they couldn't even talk... I could keep listing the problems forever, but I'll spare you from the nasty details.

Our saving grace was the triple assault of our batteries. Cannon balls whistled through the cold air and destroyed that little town to pieces, before hopping around the ground like rabbits, celebrating their feat. It was a terrific sight; I'll tell that much.

Chief general Chaumont oversaw the transportation of said cannons from the capital to the forest. He organized the batteries in such a way that our enemies couldn't figure out exactly where the cannonade was coming from. They were being attacked from three different positions, simultaneously. The execution of that plan was perfect. And that man, during that day, was a genius.

And I thank the good Lord that he thought of bringing those cannons along, because if we had attacked our enemy by deploying our infantry and cavalry alone, well... I wouldn't be writing to you right now. As I said, we are all weak, sick, and tired. Not the greatest soldiers you could send into a violent melee, that you're supposed to win.

Talking about the calvary for a second, we'll have to leave our horses here in the capital. They are exhausted too and they wouldn't upstand the walk back home even if they tried. We'll use the horses of the defeated Ruhmnian hussars to return. Luckner said he'll travel back here to retrieve his favorite stallion once the winter is over, and maybe I'll tag along, just to see by myself how the city is doing by then.

Anyway. We fought. We struggled. We won. That is the most important thing.

We also looted the remains of that town, and we've gathered enough food to begin our journey back to the border, and into our homeland. So please, don't worry about me. I'll be back soon.

Take care of yourself. I love you. I miss you.

-Yours, Francis Forestier."