The War Court and Lap Pillow, Austria's Mandate of Heaven

Chapter 1791 His Merit is Indispensable
Old Ivan, like countless other gray animals, was driven not for victory, but for someone's vanity and a mere piece of paper.

Only the trembling bodies remain on the frozen ground, still in the mud. History will only record the numbers, but no one will remember the folly.

Leo Tolstoy wrote this in his diary.

On the other hand, Prince Alexander Sergeyevich Menshkov was having his servants meticulously prepare his attire.

He wore a dark green general's uniform with polished gold tassels on the shoulders and his chest was covered with medals. His riding boots, however, were deliberately adorned with some stains.

Some people may not understand why a few mud spots would be placed on such expensive riding boots, but that's where the designer's brilliance lies.

This is the image of a resolute, courageous, and elegant prince who has weathered many storms.

"Report! His Majesty the Tsar's advance cavalry has entered the camp!"

"Open the city gates wide! Let the soldiers come out of the camp for inspection!"

"As you command, my lord!"

Prince Menshkov donned his cloak, stepped out of his tent, mounted his expensive Arabian horse, and rode to the edge of the military camp.

The cavalry figures in the distance gradually grew larger, and the band began to play.

Prince Menshkov was very confident because the troops in front of him were his most elite troops, all of them tall and strong, standing straight like statues even in the wind and snow.

Soon the Tsar's regalia appeared before them, and in accordance with tradition, Prince Menshkov dismounted and walked to the Tsar's regalia to present his scepter.

"Your Majesty the Tsar, your arrival has brought sunshine that has pierced through the clouds, giving us renewed hope for victory."

Please review these brave warriors who were willing to sacrifice themselves for you and the great Russian Empire.

We may lack soldiers and supplies, but we will never lack our loyalty to you!

The 2.06-meter-tall Nicholas I, riding a huge black horse, appeared even more majestic.

"Rise. My warriors, you should not waste your energy in this snowstorm. You have a greater mission to accomplish."

Now, on my command, return to camp to rest!

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Prince Menshkov led the way on the red carpet, while Nicholas I, mounted on his horse, remained expressionless and silent.

The entire procession entered the palace that had been prepared for the Tsar, and Nicholas I finally spoke and asked a question.

"My soldiers are lacking supplies?"

This question instantly made the atmosphere awkward. To be honest, Nicholas I had already invested all his savings in this war.

However, due to the winter season and the harassment from Balkan bandits and guerrillas, supplies were indeed not as plentiful as expected.

Of course, you can't say it directly.
"Your Majesty, the latest batch of supplies has not yet arrived."

"why?"

The atmosphere fell into awkwardness again.

"Your Majesty, it is winter now, and the British have been harassing our coastal areas."

Nicholas I would get angry whenever the navy was mentioned. Despite claiming to have achieved an unprecedented victory, he didn't even dare to leave the port.

Nicholas I wanted to send the Black Sea Fleet into battle again, but he was dissuaded by Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolaevich, who had returned from Sevastopol.

As the third son of Nicholas I, Nikolai Nikolayevich knew his father's character well; he would certainly not let the matter rest.

However, the Russian Navy had truly burned out, and of the remaining ships, only the Karl Augustus was still capable of fighting.

The firepower of the Russian Navy is far inferior to that of the British Royal Navy. If the previous ramming tactics had not stunned the British, he might be the only one left in the Black Sea Fleet.

Russian shipyards have been working overtime for the past few months, but Russia's shipbuilding capabilities are nowhere near those of the British.

The British had been given enough time to build a fleet, but Russian shipyards could only build three corvettes, which were completely useless wooden sailing warships.

Unfortunately, Russia also wanted to build steam-powered ironclad warships, but it didn't know how. Not only did it lack the ability, it also lacked the necessary technology and basic industrial capabilities.

There's no way to force something like this, so we can only build whatever we can, even a wooden sailing warship is better than nothing.

Moreover, the shipbuilders and the sailors are not the same group of people. Russian shipyards usually take orders for small boats under 1,000 tons.

Those large warships could only be completed with the help of a few engineers and blueprints, which is why the replenishment rate was so slow.

"That's enough! I understand."

Nicholas I looked around again. The room was filled with exquisite furniture, expensive porcelain and works of art, and even a captured tapestry. The cushions were made of velvet.

It's safe to say that Prince Menshkov put in a great deal of effort to build such a luxurious temporary palace on the front lines.

However, Nicholas I did not buy it.

Where is my map?

Prince Menshkov paused for a moment, because a huge map of Russia was hanging in the corridor.

"I'm not talking about that. I'm asking about the battlefield map and sand table."

Just as Prince Menshkov was about to speak, his advisor immediately spoke up.

"I'll get it now!"

Nicholas I spoke somewhat angrily as soon as his staff left.

"You've disappointed me greatly! I didn't bring you here to live a life of luxury. What promises did you make to me in the first place?"
They took Constantinople within six months.

It's been almost a full year now! And you're still loitering on the outskirts! Hundreds of thousands of British troops are still laughing at you!

Prince Menshkov was immediately terrified and broke out in a cold sweat. He knew very well that if it weren't for the fact that the two families had been on good terms for generations, and that he had a good personal relationship with the Tsar, he might have been sent to Siberia long ago.

"Your Majesty, I have truly done my best. I have already lost nearly one hundred thousand men."

It would have been better if he hadn't said anything, because once he did, Nicholas I became even angrier.

"Is this all the result we've achieved with 100,000 lives? Are these few hills enough to bury our soldiers?"

He sighed and continued.

"Don't blame me. This concerns the future of the entire Russian Empire, and the centuries-old dreams and glory of the Romanov family."

We have no choice; your dignity and honor must be set aside.

"I understand, Your Majesty."

Prince Menshkov bowed and left, leaving only the flames in the fireplace burning quietly.

Three days later, Nicholas I, surrounded by his entourage, arrived at the high ground that Prince Menshkov had previously failed to capture despite fourteen assaults.

To Leo Tolstoy, the soldiers' cheers sounded like the painful groans of slaves under the overseer's whip.

He even wondered if the Ottomans, upon discovering the Tsar was there, would simply wipe out these arrogant fools with cannons.

That old saying from the East is indeed true.

"The monarch is truly a great scourge to the world."

Leo Tolstoy had seen this incompetent and boring performance countless times, and he took his place in the gun.

After all, big shots always set off some fireworks before launching an attack.
Sure enough, the messenger came running over.

"Captain Tolstoy, you and your team need to advance 500 meters."

Leo Tolstoy paused for a moment, then roared angrily.

"What? Five hundred meters? Do you even know how many meters is five hundred meters? Are you trying to make me a sitting duck for the Ottomans?"

Seeing that the company commander was angry, the surrounding soldiers also gathered around. They still liked this silly young master.

After all, the young master didn't look down on them; he even bought them drinks and gave them nicknames. They were professionals at beating people up.
"Captain Tolstoy, this is an order personally issued by the Tsar. As soon as the bugle sounds, you must begin your advance."

"If you have any questions, you can go see the Tsar." The messenger finished speaking and left, leaving everyone looking at each other in bewilderment. Leo Tolstoy kicked a box next to him hard.

"Damn it! What's so hard?"

"Company commander, you fired a solid shot."

"Hurry up and take it away!"

The soldiers quickly pushed away the crates containing the artillery shells, while Leo Tolstoy sat on a crate nearby and began rubbing his feet.

"We might die soon, aren't you afraid?"

The soldiers all looked at Leo Tolstoy, and then suddenly burst into laughter.

"Sir, you can find a place to hide first, and then show them your feet after the battle is over."

They will understand.

Leo Tolstoy laughed and picked up his boot, throwing it at the veteran.

"Who are you calling a coward!"

At this moment, the veterans suddenly spoke seriously.

"No, sir. We truly believe that a kind and well-written gentleman like you shouldn't die here."

"We can handle this."

"Yes, I still owe you money for drinks."

"It's rare to find a commander who didn't bring a whip."

The soldiers urged him to stay, since advancing another 100 meters would put him within the enemy's artillery range, and advancing 500 meters would surely leave him riddled with bullets.
“Go and bring me my donkey; I also have five barrels of Losar in my tent.”

Losa, a traditional dish from Eastern Europe, is made by curing raw pork with a lethal amount of fat.

"What are you doing? You're not allowed to drink before the battle."

The veteran offered this reminder.

"We're all going to die, what's the point of having so many rules! Besides, there are only 3 cases of wine left, and the two of us won't even get a bottle!"

Soon the wine and meat arrived, and Leo Tolstoy picked up a piece of fatty meat and stuffed it into his mouth, then gulped down a mouthful of strong liquor.

The surrounding soldiers remained silent.

"Why are you all staring at me? Eat! Drink! I'm still the company commander! You all listen to me!"

After several rounds of drinks and several dishes, the soldiers suddenly realized that it was getting dark.
Someone looked up and couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

"My God! What is that?"

The others also looked up.

"There's something flying in the sky!"

"I told you not to drink! You're already hallucinating!"

"It is said that drinking urine can cure a hangover."

Leo Tolstoy also raised his head, resting his chin on his hand in deep thought.

"That looks like an airship. It was originally a weapon used by the Austrians, and we've been studying it ever since. *hiccup*"

Leo Tolstoy then lowered his head and took a big gulp of the wine from the manger.

"You guys usually keep it all to yourselves, and you're not willing to take it out and enjoy it before going to the battlefield."

That's too stingy!

The soldiers didn't really know what an airship was. Most of them thought the company commander was just talking nonsense because he was drunk, or that they were all hallucinating. In any case, this kind of thing was not uncommon in the Russian army.

"drink!"

A group of people continued to lie on the manger and lick it vigorously.

"Stop drinking! Has the bugle already been sounded?"

"How do I know this?"

"Look, the infantry below have begun to advance in formation. Didn't we hear them?"

"possible."

One possibility immediately came to mind, since it's normal for everyone to have been drinking and not be able to hear clearly.

Drinking might get you a few lashes at most, but being labeled a deserter would be a real problem.

"Let's begin!"

Leo Tolstoy, being of noble birth, naturally understood the horrors of deserters, and he stood up and kicked over the manger.

"Brothers! Hurrah!"

"Ula!"

"For vodka!"

"For Lothar!"

"Come on!"

So Leo Tolstoy's company took the lead, pushing the artillery forward.

The Ottomans on the mountaintop were dumbfounded. Although they had heard of airships before, hearing about them and seeing them were two completely different things.

The officers reprimanded the soldiers, who were already somewhat terrified.

"Fire! They're just a bunch of sheepskin balloons; two shots will bring them down!"

The Ottomans' hasty counterattacks were of little effect, but while they focused on the airships in the sky, a company of Russian soldiers had already arrived at the center of the battlefield with three cannons.

Nicholas I was somewhat bewildered. He had been waiting for the airships to start dropping bombs before ordering his soldiers to charge, but a small group of people had already gone up first.

Are there a few shirtless guys? Are they all this brave?
At this point, Leo Tolstoy's company, feeling the distance was about right, began firing. Three consecutive direct shots immediately sent the unsuspecting Ottomans sprawling.

Just as the Ottoman commander was about to order a counterattack, the airships were already overhead.

Because the Ottoman artillery had previously forced its way to the air, it was now impossible for them to aim their guns at the Russian artillery below.

The airships began dropping bombs; nobody wanted to be blown up or crushed to death, so the Ottoman artillery collapsed first.

"Your Majesty, your tactics have succeeded! But were there any who disobeyed your orders?"

Nicholas I had no interest in listening to his advisors' ramblings.

"Sound the attack horn! Hurrah!"

"Ula!"

The Russian army's general offensive began, but by this time the Ottomans had already been driven to a mental breakdown by the airships and the small group of artillerymen in front.

Theoretically, at a distance of 500 to 600 meters, Ottoman rifles could easily hit Leo Tolstoy's company, but in reality, the probability of that happening on the battlefield was so low that it was almost negligible.

Even if more than a hundred people were loading shells and cleaning cannons in front of them, the thousands of defenders on the mountain could not hit them and could only watch the direct danger coming from above and in front.

When the main Russian forces launched their general offensive, the morale of the Ottoman defenders completely collapsed.

After the war, Captain Leo Tolstoy was awarded the Order of St. George, Fourth Class.

The Order of St. George is the highest military honor in the Russian Empire, awarded specifically to those who have fought bravely.

In the following two weeks, Nicholas I finally broke through the gates of East Rumelia, creating a breach in the Ottomans' ironclad defenses.

The Austrian Empire's airship force played a crucial role during this period.
(End of this chapter)