She changed Europe

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"The Thirteen Courts, the Church, the Catholic Church, the Vatican, the Protestant Church in Bohemia, the Anglican Church in Britain—all the clues converge in the religious sphere and then all point to this force behind the scenes."

"Miss Aponia, to whom are you loyal?" The answer to Gisela's final puzzle lay in the nun's reply. Only the nun herself understood the true meaning behind Gisela's words.

“Of course, it’s His Holiness the Holy See of Rome,” Aponia replied to Gisela with a smile.

"I see. If Aponia and the others are loyal to the Holy See and protect themselves, while this group behind the scenes belongs to a religious force and wants to kill her, then there is only one conclusion: the Pope and this group have differing opinions, or rather, the two are not as friendly and harmonious as they appear on the surface."

"Are you also members of the Jesuits?" Chloris then took a serious look at the nun who had such a faint presence. She was clearly a stunning beauty, yet even an experienced driver like herself hadn't noticed her.

"No, no, no? We're not! We're just ordinary clergy, not like the great Jesuits." Aponia's acting was flawless. She was acting from the perspective of the Thirteen Courts, for the Jesuit henchmen lurking in the shadows. After all, it wasn't time for the Thirteen Courts to be exposed yet.

"So who is your client, Miss Nelson?" Gisela didn't think Nelson would tell her, but she decided to ask anyway.

“I apologize, but protecting the privacy of my employer is essential for both my personal reputation and the prestige of Britain.” Despite these words, the red-haired woman smiled slightly, closed her right eye, and glanced at the priest in the group, in a direction Gisela could clearly see. Gisela understood Nelson's meaning perfectly well.

PS1: PY is a big deal, but the British actually have quite a few internal divisions 0v0!

Chapter 239 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter100 Anglo-Austrian Collaboration (Seeking Votes)

"So what's the deal?" Nelson continued, turning to Gisela.

“That is…” Gisela drew out her words, then slashed Elizabeth’s delicate neck with her dagger. Crimson blood flowed from the wound as she jumped off the magic armor and ran towards the British troops.

The French army was thrown into chaos by this sudden turn of events. On one hand, they were worried about the safety of Lady Elizabeth, and on the other hand, they raised their rifles in confusion, wanting to attack. However, they did not know what to do when faced with the British army and several magic users that they could not defeat.

Of course, some of the French soldiers reacted quickly and rushed to check on their officers.

Taking advantage of the opening, Gisela swiftly moved into the British ranks, grabbed the priest by the collar, and then, with a beautiful over-the-shoulder throw, tossed the much larger man towards the front of the column. This series of fluid maneuvers left everyone present utterly dumbfounded.

"Sir!" The British soldiers wanted to rush forward to rescue him, but Nelson stopped them by raising his hand.

Nelson threw down his weapon and slowly walked up to Gisela, whispering, "Let's use this scenario: our employer and I encounter French troops during a mission, leading to an unexpected battle. Our employer is wounded by a stray bullet and dies unexpectedly. I am also slightly wounded and forced to retreat. As for you, you can escape in the chaos. How about this?" Nelson's suggestion was clearly an attempt to do Gisela a favor, which aligned with her goals. At least she had done it without providing a reason that wouldn't offend either the Queen or the Prime Minister.

“I accept this condition, so what do you want from me?” Gisela was not naive enough to think that the other party would so easily do her a favor.

"After the war ends, please come to London in person, and then we can have a proper talk." The priest at Gisela's feet overheard their conversation. The middle-aged man's obese body trembled slightly, as the two had already made clear arrangements for him.

“By the way, before we say goodbye, let me tell you about these people’s identities. As you guessed, they are Jesuits. That nun and that gentleman may genuinely support you. Of course, this information doesn’t come from our intelligence department; it’s just my own judgment. Whether you believe it or not is entirely up to Your Highness to decide.” Nelson hugged Gisela, pressed her head against his chest, and whispered in her ear.

Gisela showed no resistance to Nelson's embrace; after all, she was his wife, even though she was still a fictional character at the time, she still felt the responsibility of a husband (admiral).

“You looked much more handsome with silver hair than with blond hair. Now let’s continue.” Nelson pulled a dagger from his sleeve and stabbed Gisela in the back.

"Gisella, watch out!"

"Lord be careful!"

"Watch out, you silly fox!" Garibaldi, Aponia, and Chloris shouted at the same time.

Gisela skillfully raised her hand and punched Nelson, sending him flying. Nelson crashed into a tree in a sorry state and then coughed violently.

This girl has no sense of proportion, which is quite similar to Victoria when she was a child.

"Attack!" Nelson waved his hand, and the Royal Marines who were still slacking off raised their weapons and fired forward. Although their target was Gisela, stray bullets inevitably flew towards the French soldiers. After several French soldiers were killed, the scene completely descended into chaos, and the two bickering nations, Britain and France, started fighting.

Bullets clattered and struck tree trunks and human bodies, blood spurting and mist spreading through the quiet forest. Gisela and the others, taking advantage of the darkness, had quietly moved away from the fighting.

The poor priest was riddled with bullets by the second volley from the Royal Marines and the first volley from the French.

Not long after Gisela and her friends left the battlefield, she fell into a coma due to exhaustion of magical energy. However, before she lost consciousness, she was fortunate enough to reunite with Hannah Rothschild, who was exploring the area, and the "St. Stephen's Order" led by Rania. She also managed to drive away Garibaldi, who wanted to return to the camp to visit Gisela.

Why release Garibaldi? This involves Gisela's selfish motives. However, at this moment, her feelings are so similar to those of Sima Yi when he deliberately fell for the "empty city ploy." In any case, everything is still within her plan.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

On September 5, 1870, the day after Gisela fled the village, French General McMahon led eight divisions of the Franco-Saxon Second Column across the Ticino River. Then, before Napoleon III’s main force had reached its designated position, he concentrated his superior forces and launched a surprise attack on the Corden Division (comprising two brigades) in front of him.

McMahon skillfully deployed the "tenacious" Sardinian army at the front of his ranks to contain the direct fire of the Corden Division, while placing the magic-armored units among the pure French troops on the left and right flanks. At noon that day, he launched a perfect pincer attack. Realizing that he was facing encirclement, General Corden ordered his troops to retreat quickly, and by evening, he had successfully broken through the encirclement, fleeing somewhat disheveled towards the direction of the Magendie Bridge.

At this moment, in the Imperial military camp located on the east bank of the Mazenta Bridge, Joseph was staring at the sand table in front of him with a somewhat solemn expression. The "meritorious" generals around him stood there silently and blankly. Even the usually talkative Grand Duchess Freya remained silent, after all, she already felt guilty towards His Majesty the Emperor because of Gisela's matter.

After a long silence, it was finally Queen Elizabeth, who was standing to the side, who broke the silence.

"General Julai, how many men did Corden lose this time?" The Queen's tone was calm, and her composed expression contrasted sharply with Joseph's somewhat disheveled appearance. After all, this world's Sissi was no mere ornament; this was reflected not only in her personal strength but also in her wisdom.

"General Corden lost nearly half his troops, mainly because he failed to hold the important pass leading to Magendar. As a result, we will not be able to determine from which side or when the French army will attack us."

"Has General Corden been able to estimate the size of the enemy?" Queen Elizabeth walked to the sand table and placed the insignia representing the French army to the southwest of Magen Tower.

“General Corden saw two completely different uniforms during the battle, so he deduced that this army should be a Franco-Sardinian coalition. Considering the size of the Sardinian army before the battle, and the number of Italian troops that our Prince Gisela defeated earlier at the Aubila and Ticino Rivers, the Sardinian army in this force cannot exceed 30,000.” When Gisela mentioned Gisela’s name, Queen Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, but quickly returned to normal.

PS1: I have to go back to work next Thursday QAQ

Chapter 240 Irises Fading in the Alps: Capter 101 Battle of Magenta (1)

"The number of French troops is difficult to estimate, but considering the French army operating in the northwest, the main French force facing us should not exceed 80,000." Here, Gülaye's judgment is flawed. He mistakenly considers the French First Column operating in the northwest—Napoleon III's army—as a detachment, while regarding McMahon's forces facing us as the main force. In fact, according to common sense, it is an unwritten rule in European countries that vassal states' troops follow the main force. Clearly, for Marshal Gülaye, the Kingdom of Sardinia was a vassal state of the French army.

"Eighty thousand men?" The Austrian army had deployed a total of 5 men in five armies in the Lombardy region. Subtracting the 15 men stationed in Milan, the 5 men who were transferred to contain the "flanking forces", the garrison troops at the pass, and the troops operating around the Magnetta Bridge, there were only 11 brigades guarding His Majesty the Emperor and stationed at the Magnetta Bridge.

Güle's outdated defensive mindset undoubtedly put the Austrian army at a significant disadvantage. If Gisela were here at that moment, he would certainly have given the old general a severe dressing-down. Trying to defend everything ultimately results in defending nothing; the army and manpower are the greatest assets in war!

"Then where is the Marquis of Brno's army now?" The Queen thought of the new army her daughter had formed. If her memory served her right, her husband Joseph had moved the army to the southeast of Magenta to rest and prepare it as a reserve force.

"Your Majesty, they are in San Giacomo, about twenty kilometers away from here." The speaker was a slightly younger general in his early forties standing beside Marshal Güle. Interestingly, this "slightly" young general was the youngest among this group of somber Austrian officers.

"Let them come. Holding the Maggiore Bridge is our hope for winning the war." With the Ticino River abandoned, this bridge and its canal leading directly to Milan became crucial to the defense. Even the French army in the northwest was heading straight for this location.

What is Your Majesty's opinion?

“It’s alright, I trust the Queen’s judgment.” Julai looked at the man behind the Queen, who nodded knowingly in agreement.

"I will assist you in winning this battle." Queen Elizabeth's eyes gleamed with pride, her long golden hair shimmering in the candlelight, beautiful and powerful. Joseph looked tenderly at his wife. With such a woman by his side, how could he not win?

Freya, standing nearby, was also eager to attack.

At this time, in the French military camp—

A short man was roughly pulling on a woman's long black hair, his hips thrusting, each movement accompanied by the woman's voice.

He held the other person's waist with one hand, while his other hand roamed freely.

After an unknown amount of time, he suddenly took a deep breath, grabbed the woman's body, and only after everything was finished did he put on a bored expression and kick the dazed woman on the bed to the ground.

He sat blankly on the bed, then took out a cigarette and tried to light it.

"Damn it, they actually launched an attack on the Austrians without my permission!" The man was clearly referring to McMahon, who had repelled the Austrian Korden Division earlier that day outside the Magendie Bridge.

Whether it was fate deliberately making things difficult for this man at the pinnacle of France or not, the lighter in his hand simply wouldn't light.

"Damn it!" the man roared again, angrily throwing away the ornate and expensive lighter in his hand.

Left with no other choice, he picked up a matchbox from the side, took out a cigarette, lit it, took a deep drag, and exhaled the white smoke. He looked at the woman on the ground with satisfaction, then kicked her in the stomach to urge her to get up.

"Your Majesty... is there anything else you need?" The woman at the man's feet slowly rose, her face flushed and her voice trembling slightly, clearly indicating that she had been too intense just now.

"Clean this up for me, understand?" The man then looked at the oil painting hanging on his tent. In the painting, a girl with black curly hair was riding a white horse, its hooves raised high. Her right hand was raised high, pointing to the sky. Her expression was full of composure and determination, and the flowing red cloak made her look even more heroic.

This painting depicts her aunt, the revolutionary Empress Napoleon, crossing the Alps. A woman of both beauty and wisdom, she accomplished feats that no French man could achieve. Undoubtedly, she was the person Napoleon III admired most, and of course, the woman he most revered. Did he harbor impure desires for his aunt? But tell me, what French man didn't consider the Empress his dream woman?

Sadly, his aunt died on Saint Helena when he was only 13 years old. When her remains were brought back to Paris, 90 Parisians braved the cold to witness the goddess who had led France through countless battles return to her homeland. From that moment on, he vowed to surpass his aunt and achieve what she had failed to do.

"I told you to keep your tongue down, and don't let your teeth touch, don't you understand!" Napoleon III kicked the woman to the ground again, his expression filled with rage. Was he angry because of the woman's poor technique? No! He was angry at himself. People always called him Napoleon III, not by his name, as if they were treating him as a substitute for that woman.

“Your Grace, Duke of Orléans, His Majesty has already rested.” At this moment, the voice of Napoleon III’s old servant came from outside the tent, but before he could finish speaking, he was pushed into the room.

"Charles, explain to me why you're sending Shirley out again." The silver-haired woman glared angrily at the man before her, her golden eyes gleaming like flames.

"Get dressed!" Napoleon III waved his hand at the woman in front of him and ordered, while the dark-haired woman nervously retreated into the shadows.

Napoleon III stood up, took off the blanket and wrapped it around himself, and then walked toward Jeanne. Although he was middle-aged, his body, which he had been exercising for a long time, still had a strong physique and was not as pot-bellied as traditional pampered superiors.

PS1: Ra!

Chapter 241 Irises Fading in the Alps: Capter 102 Battle of Magenta (2)

Jeanne frowned, staring at Napoleon III with disdain. If this man weren't the emperor, she would have loved to punch this arrogant man to death.

"As a magic user of France, do I need any reason to fight for France?" Napoleon III asked coldly, as if he were talking about a trivial matter.

"Don't you understand she's injured!" Jeanne clenched her fist and swung it at Napoleon III, but stopped just before it reached his cheek.

"Your Majesty, please retract your order." Jeanne lowered her hand and sighed helplessly. She knew that she couldn't act recklessly at this time.

“Of course, you can go then. You will take over the position of Duke Richelieu.” Napoleon III smiled as he looked at the silver-haired saintess. How could he not be sure of this woman’s feelings for Shirley? To get her to serve him, he had to make good use of Richelieu.

"I promise you, but you absolutely cannot let Shirley go to the battlefield!" With that, Jeanne turned around and walked out of the tent.

“Of course.” Napoleon III nodded, his expression cold and indifferent.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

On September 7, 1870, at 6:00 a.m., a French vanguard of light cavalry divisions arrived at the west bank of the Magna Ponte and completed their deployment. They were followed by the 17th Division of the Third Army of Sardinia, and the 6th and 9th Divisions of the Fifth Army, totaling 35,000 men in four French divisions.

Facing the French on the west bank of the Magendie Bridge were three brigades each from the Austrian Second and Third Armies, while the Reischach Division, personally commanded by the Empress, and the reorganized Kolden Division were redeployed to the east bank. The Austrian army's total strength was around 3 men, and considering their defensive advantages, this should have been a closely fought battle.

From a macro perspective, both sides have reinforcements. McMahon's four French infantry divisions are on their way, while Austria has the 35,000-strong Bohemian Legion on its way. In the northwest, Napoleon III's main force is tied down and cannot reach its intended target in a short time.

At this moment, on the position of the 7th Brigade of the Austrian Armed Forces on the west bank, Leopold looked solemnly at the French cavalry unit that appeared on the distant horizon with the sun.

"Brother, I'm afraid we're in grave danger in this battle." A blonde beauty beside Leopold bit her lip, gazing intently at the densely packed army in blue uniforms.

“Perhaps.” Leopold took off his hat, sat down on the mound of earth dug from the trenches, and propped his head up with his right hand, as if deep in thought.

“You don’t need to fight for the Austrians. Although our Kingdom of Bavaria has close ties with the Empire, the situation in Italy has nothing to do with us.” The young woman in the Austrian military uniform smoothed her skirt and gracefully sat down beside the young man. If they weren’t on a battlefield, no one would suspect they were lovers.

“Nina, you may be right. We Bavaria don’t need to bleed and sacrifice ourselves in this remote and impoverished place alongside the Empire, but…” Leopold raised his head and looked at the exquisitely crafted military knife in his hand.

“Because of that princess, right?” The woman named Nina clenched her fists and placed them on her chest. Who else could make Leopold so infatuated? Apart from her cousin, the princess with fox ears, the girl who inherited Queen Elizabeth’s beauty, she had no reason to believe that anyone else in the world could make her brother do something he didn’t want to do.

“Nina, I promised her I would face her with a completely new face. She is my fiancée! She is the person I admire most.” Leopold’s eyes were full of confusion. She had freed herself from the shadow of her father and brothers and started a new life, but unfortunately, before she could show it, he received the devastating news of Gisela’s disappearance.

The Wittelsbach family were all extremely emotional, and their delicate nerves led them to have an extraordinary, almost morbid, yearning for the bonds of family and loved ones. Historically, his elder brother suffered from depression because of his unrequited love for Sissi, while Sissi herself suffered from mental illness after the death of her eldest daughter, Sophie.

"What she didn't finish, I will finish for her." Whether facing the French, the Italians, or even the Prussians and Russians in the future, as long as the Empire needs him, he will shed his blood and sacrifice himself without hesitation. The former Leopold, who hated war, hated killing, and hated himself as a soldier, has changed for certain goals.

“Brother…” Nina looked at the young man before her. She wanted to say something, but each time her lips moved, she didn’t know what to say. Finally, she decided to give up. Although she was Bavaria’s only mage, her most important identity was still this young man’s sister. (This time, she secretly followed him out.)

It doesn't matter what happens, as long as Nina stays by your side, Nina thought to herself as she looked up at the man in front of her.

Of course, war doesn't always leave room for sentimental narratives. The new French 18-pounder cannons, spewing flames, delivered the greeting of war to the Austrian positions. Smoke and dust several meters high blotted out the sun. As the artillery fired, the elite French Guards Cavalry Division's hussars launched an assault on the Austrians. To facilitate the assault, each of them carried a pack of explosives to destroy the magic armor.

Using explosives designed to counter magic armor only against magic armor is a very superficial act, but for the battle-hardened and experienced Frenchmen, it is basic practice.

"Don't rush to treat the wounded. Those with minor injuries should take care of themselves, and those with serious injuries should be bandaged on the spot. The enemy cavalry is coming up, prepare to fire." Leopold's roar sounded so small amidst the rumbling of the cannons, but fortunately, the soldiers of this Austrian army cooperated with Leopold's orders very well.

Initially, the lower-ranking officers and soldiers of this unit did not trust this newly arrived young nobleman. However, their impression of him changed when they learned that he was Leopold Maximilian Joseph Maria Arnulf. Some aristocratic figures within the military told them that he was Princess Gisela's fiancé, and that the princess herself, due to her previous actions, had earned the favor and respect of the vast majority of the lower-ranking officers and soldiers.

Because of their affection for Leopold, they developed a deep respect and admiration for him.

PS1: Ra!

Chapter 242 Irises Withering in the Alps: Capter 103 Leopold's Battle (Seeking Votes)

Now that a foreign-born prince has traveled thousands of miles to Italy to avenge his fiancée, the initial feeling of unfamiliarity quickly turned into sympathy for Leopold, which was then projected onto him. They naturally developed an innate goodwill towards this commander, and soon they spontaneously obeyed Leopold's orders, united in their hatred of the enemy to avenge the princess.

The soldiers raised their weapons and aimed their guns at the French hussars who were kicking up dust in the distance.

"The military band begins!" Leopold conducted the band as they played Austria's national anthem, "God Save Emperor Franz." Accompanied by the majestic music, the soldiers, as if infused with power, skillfully retrieved bullets from their ammunition pouches, cocked their rifles, loaded the bullets, and then took bayonets from their waist pouches and attached them to their rifle tips.

"God bless Emperor Franz, our great Emperor Franz. We pray for your long reign, we wish you good fortune, may your laurel wreath last forever, and may the laurel wreath of victory ultimately belong to you." The soldiers sang the beginning of the song softly, each soldier bowing down, staring intently at the approaching sound of hooves and shouts of battle.

"First volley, prepare, fire!" With the command given, a plume of white smoke billowed from the Austrian lines. Gun barrels, spitting fire, unleashed deadly bullets that struck horses and riders. Blood mist rose, and countless riders and their mounts felled together.

Although countless comrades had fallen, the proud French hussars continued their attack.

"You led us to victory and a bountiful harvest. Your parliament is wise and decisive, full of talent, wisdom, and passion. Your brilliance shines upon you, and you embody fairness and justice." The ancient Austrian Empire has never lacked loyal warriors and fearless soldiers, and before us is precisely such a group of warriors.

The soldiers ejected the spent cartridges, loaded new bullets into the chamber, and aimed again. They had trained for years to be able to unleash their fury on the enemy and invaders.

"Second volley, prepare, fire!" A new command rang out, another plume of smoke rose, and countless French cavalrymen fell.

"Evil forces have been eradicated by you, conspiracies and schemes have been exposed by you, your will is the law, bringing blessings to the imperial subjects. The emperor's blessings spread throughout the land, and the people are happy because of you." The soldiers continued to recite the lyrics composed by Haydn with ease.

"Prepare the explosives." The Austrian officers gave the short, concise order, and the soldiers in white uniforms picked up the explosives, ready to throw them all as soon as the French cavalry approached.

Two hundred meters, one hundred meters, fifty meters, twenty meters.

"Angriff!" (German: Attack!)

"Attaqe!" (French: Attack!)

Soldiers on both sides roared in their own languages ​​as they hurled explosives at each other. The massive explosions instantly covered the high ground where the Austrians were located, and huge plumes of smoke obscured the sky, blurring the lines between day and night.

"We are united like brothers, regardless of status, sharing happiness, and history sings your praises. God bless Emperor Franz, our great Emperor Franz! God bless Emperor Franz, our great Emperor Franz!"

An Austrian soldier was cut down by a French cavalryman charging out of the dust, while his comrade skillfully plunged a bayonet into the French cavalryman's chest. The two armies clashed, and the French light cavalry's tactical advantage failed to yield significant results.

"This shot is for His Majesty the Emperor! This shot is for Bavaria! This shot is for Austria! This shot is for His Highness Gisela!" Leopold raised his revolver and kept pulling the trigger, firing at the Frenchmen. With each shot, he roared hysterically.