Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 947, 08.946: 'A true reformer, impartial and incorruptible (Seeking monthly votes!)'

The cuirassier officer's gaze fell on the imperial knight's crest on Poniatovsky's chest.

The golden, two-headed eagle gripped tightly a shield gleaming with the family crest. Below the shield, a line of gilded High Gothic script bore the ancient maxim of the Hunyati knightly family, passed down for thousands of years.

Even a proud nobleman like him would feel his proud polished breastplate, gleaming power sword, and magnificent uniform and helmet pale in comparison when he saw the Imperial Knight's crest, which was truly awarded by the Imperial Ministry of the Interior and had left countless merits in the long history books.

"Whether from the perspective of imperial law or established facts, I was born into a true imperial knight family, registered in the long history books of the Imperial Ministry of the Interior."

I suggest you reconsider what you just said, Captain Citizen.

Poniatowski smiled, gently stroking his smug mustache with his fingers, and retorted with a laugh, "If even I am considered a 'ragtag cavalryman,' then what are you? Hmm? Besides, isn't Sintira now a 'republic'? Why are you still spouting those old-fashioned ideas?"

Even though his face was filled with reluctance, the cuirassier captain named Dotpur could only grit his teeth and acquiesce to the other party's statement amidst his unwillingness and resentment.

No matter how cynical the man in front of her was, and how far removed he was from the image of a glorious knight in her mind; even though he didn't even have the knight's armor he should have, just based on his family background, in the complex and strict hierarchical society of the empire, he was already a nobleman born with a silver spoon in his mouth, truly winning at the starting line.

"I hope you will manage the discipline of your men and make them look like real cavalrymen, Battalion Commander Citizen."

Or at least act like soldiers, instead of a bunch of thugs who go around drinking and fighting.

Otherwise, you're only fit to requisition provisions for us.

Captain Dortpool didn't want to continue the conversation in such a disheveled manner. He yanked on the reins, mounted his horse, and, with his men providing cover, charged into the ranks of the heavy cavalry.

"Tch, who do they think they are? Do they think we want to beat them up?" Poniatovsky scoffed, watching the cuirassiers ride off in neat rows.
-
At this moment, the endless night was finally pierced by a ray of dawn rising from the horizon.

It was as if the long, despairing night had finally passed.

On the monastery tower, the Hellscreamers in charge of reconnaissance reported the latest battle situation to Horatio: a fierce cavalry and tank force had broken through the green-skinned lines besieging the monastery, forcing these green beasts to retreat temporarily.

Upon hearing this news, Horatio's intense pain from the battle seemed to lessen.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief, and thankfully, his troops had not suffered devastating losses.

However, the 17th Flintlock Regiment of Sintila was not so lucky.

Brigadier General Jean Lannes, his magnificent blue and white military uniform now stained crimson with blood, arrived beside Colonel Horatio and Yardwig, surrounded by grenadiers.

They skillfully formed a human wall to protect the three commanders who were meeting.

What caught Horatio's attention was that Brigadier General Jean Lannes did not have long "horse ears" like his younger sister.

He appears to be a more purely standard human being.

The wonder of genes filled Horatio with a sense of wonder.

If Jadvig hadn't personally stated that Brigadier General Jean Lannes was her older brother, he would never have connected the two by blood.

“This welcoming ceremony should not have been so hasty and simple. But in any case, Callisis welcomes you, Lord Cochrane. I have heard of your heroic deeds on Fal and during the Second Damocles Expedition.” The man sheathed his power sword, stepped forward, and extended his hand generously and warmly to Horatio.

Horatio sized up the man before him and the disciplined, resolute-looking troops behind him.

"I've heard Colonel Yadwig mention you, Brigadier General."

"Such a tall, imposing, highly motivated, and experienced force—I find it hard to believe they are Sintira's Astral Army. This is quite different from the rumors I've heard." Horatio grasped Brigadier General Rana's blood-stained white glove and said. "Of course. If you look at the ages of these soldiers and citizens, you'll find that many of them have served in the military for over ten years."

These veterans were selected separately from various flintlock regiments as substitute soldiers.

Many of them had long served in the army in place of nobles who were unwilling to serve. But the defeat of the Whirlwind Lines brought the problems of the Sintira Fusiliers to the attention of Sector Governor Marius Hax.

With the order to purge, these veterans with rich military experience faced the predicament of being discharged from the army. Brigadier General Jean Lannes also made no attempt to hide the plight and current situation of his troops.

"So the military reformers organized these veterans as your first pot of gold. A very good idea, Brigadier General."

"Grenadiers are a valuable asset. Their rich experience also makes it difficult to replace them when faced with significant losses. Moreover, many of them will probably have to retire or be transferred to the rear in another ten years or so, only responsible for passing on their experience to new recruits."

But undeniably, at least for now, they, along with the cuirassiers and carbines, constitute the main fighting force of the reformists. "Rana turned to his sister, "Citizen Yadviga, it's so good to see you're alright. How's the New Earth Dragon Cavalry Regiment?"

“Brother… no, citizen Jean Lannes, I…” Jadvig’s lips trembled slightly, and after hesitating, he finally said with difficulty, “We… we now have less than half of our original strength left. After the war, the New Lands Dragon Cavalry Regiment will probably need to be rebuilt.”

Upon hearing this, Brigadier General Rana's brows immediately furrowed from the relaxed expression of his sister being at peace.

"Yadwiga, have you really thought this through? What exactly is the role of the Dragoon Regiment? You always use your troops as light cavalry, but in principle, they should just be mounted infantry."

Your understanding of their tactical positioning is still quite vague, citizen. This is probably a deficiency for you in your role as a regimental commander.

Such losses cannot provide a satisfactory answer to the Reform Committee, and I cannot allow you to continue commanding the New Land Dragon Cavalry Regiment for the time being.

Brigadier General Jean Lannes sighed, his voice filled with reluctance and regret, but even more so with an unquestionable determination: "On behalf of the Military Reform Committee, I hereby remove you from your post as colonel and reassign you to the position of battalion commander of the First Battalion, and a female citizen."

"I will only consider nominating you for reinstatement once you have become more mature and capable of commanding a complete army unit."

[What?! He dismissed his own sister right off the bat!]
Brigadier General Jean Lannes's order greatly surprised Horatio, who was standing nearby. However, he could sense that this young man possessed a rare leadership quality, as well as a determination, a genuine and heartfelt desire for change.

Thump thump thump thump! ——

A long, drawn-out drumbeat came from the horizon above the distant sand dunes.

Immediately afterwards, shells whistled through the sky and landed around the energy center.

Their landing points were not far from friendly positions, and could even be described as indiscriminate coverage damage.

"Damn it! Make them stop firing!" Brigadier General Jean Lannes cursed, roaring at a messenger beside him.

"Who is it?" Horatio asked.

He soon learned who the visitor was.

It was a line of flintlock musketeers, dressed in fine clothes and standing in loose formation.

Accompanied by melodious military music, they held their heads high and looked arrogantly at the routed remnants of the Green Army and the reformist troops that were pursuing them.

Behind them, a group of Sintira officers, dressed in glittering gold and extravagant attire, rode on tall horses, watching the battlefield, whose outcome was already decided, with a leisurely and disdainful air as their horses swayed.

(End of this chapter)