Tyranny Of Steel

Prince Iwan of Poland stared into the distance where the Austro-Bohemian forces had gathered; as a highly mobile and relatively modern force, the Austrians generally did not engage their enemies with the entirety of the Expeditionary Force. Instead, they utilized smaller units spread across more significant swaths of territory.

At most, a division stood in the distance across the fields. Still, that was 25,000 men, all of which were armed with needle rifles, revolvers, and breechloading cannons. Such a well-equipped force of this size was in itself fully capable of annihilating any army they came across.

Immediately the Polish Prince performed the sign of the cross as he began to recite his prayers. Today was the day of his death, and he knew it. However, his father's orders were absolute, and his honor as a Catholic was on the line. Thus he lowered the visor of his bascinet and unleashed his sword from his sheath as he boldly gave the orders to charge to his retinue of heavily armored Knights.

"Charge!"

Upon giving this decree, the young Prince snapped the reigns off of his steed, sending the mighty destrier down the hill and towards the enemy. While the Austrians were entirely aware of the Polish Army not far away, they had yet to react. After all, blasting such an army to bits with nothing but artillery became dreadfully dull after a while.

Some of the more battle-crazed soldiers of the Austrian Army wanted to fire their rifles at the enemy lines. Thus, they would not begin firing the artillery shells at the enemy Cavalry until they were near the danger close proximity. Instead, while the Army of 10,000 horsemen charged down from the mountainside, the Austrian Infantry reacted calmly as they fixed their bayonets and loaded their paper cartridges into the chambers of their rifles.

Ten feet turned into a hundred feet, a hundred feet turned into a thousand, and yet the Cavalry continued to charge, with a sufficient amount of Infantry rushing behind them. If they could not close the gap in time, then they would indeed be eradicated; their only hope was to get past the 600-yard mark to ensure that they were beyond the point where the Austrians could safely fire their artillery.

After much trial and error, the Polish Army had discovered that the Austrian artillery never fired shells beyond a certain distance in relation to their location. Thus, they devised the rapid cavalry charges to close the spaces before the Army could be obliterated. Unfortunately, they were walking right into a line of needle rifle fire, but then again, they were not too keenly aware of how rapidly the Austrians could reload their weapons after firing a shot.

Sweat began to pour down Iwan's forehead as he began to close the distance, and yet he could not wipe it away, for his helmet still covered his entire face. Thus he was forced to endure as he reached ever closer to the Austrian lines. Of course, once he reached the 800-yard mark, the thunder of the artillery shells firing at his location began to echo in the air.

The first shell impacted not 75 yards behind him; in doing so, it blasted men and horses alike to bits. He foolishly looked back to see the damage caused; as he did so, he intensely felt the desire to throw up. He forced his head forward and raised his sword in the air to avoid doing so, screaming the words in his native tongue.

"Charge!"

However, the closer he got, the more artillery shells impacted his Army behind him, one barrage, two barrages, three barrages, by the time a full minute had passed, ten barrages from an entire Brigade's worth of artillery had fired upon his Army inflicting massive casualties. Yet there was still hope! He was dangerously close to the line that marked the area safe from artillery fire.

After safely crossing the aforementioned line, he let out a sigh of relief; however, in the next moment, bullets flew past his head; he could hear them whistle as they just barely missed his body. Despite this, he continued to usher his horse forward; either victory or death would be achieved on this day.

The Austrian soldiers continued to fire their needle rifles at the advancing Cavalry, gunning down men and horses alike; iron-clad warriors crashed to the ground, either crushed by their mounts or already lifeless by the moment they hit the floor. However, Iwan was more determined than ever to reach the enemy lines.

When he was finally a distance of roughly thirty yards away from the enemy, he felt a searing hot pain in his abdomen; when he looked down, he noticed that blood had begun to pour outside of his armor; he had been hit. As he continued to bleed, the strength began to fade from his body, and yet he still managed to rush his horse forward; if he could make it to the enemy formation, perhaps he could claim the life of at least one of the enemy.

However, when he was roughly five meters away from his target, another volley was fired from the Austrian rifleman, this time, three bullets had entered his torso, and another five had claimed his horse's life. The lifeless steed crashed to the ground, tossing the young Prince from its back.

Evidently, a bullet had struck his spine because he could no longer feel the use of his legs; instead, as the dust cleared, he noticed his steed lying dead, not three feet away from him. Tied to its saddle was the stuffed rabbit his little sister had given him.

As he looked around and witnessed the Austrian gunfire rip his Army to shreds, the only thought on his mind was to protect the stuffed rabbit named Kacper; with this in mind, he struggled, using all the strength remaining in his arms, to drag his broken body forward towards his now deceased steed.

With each movement, he felt the life further fade from his body, until finally, he reached the saddle, where he quickly pulled out his arming dagger to cut the stuffed rabbit free. After doing so, he clutched it to his bleeding chest, where he began struggling for breath.

The stuffed white rabbit became stained with his blood as the young Prince of Poland slowly lost consciousness; the final thought on his mind was the regret he felt for not being able to live up to his promise to his darling little sister.

After reflecting upon this, the life faded from Iwan's eyes when Eckhard observed this curious behavior; he made his way through the ranks of his soldiers before staring at the dead Prince and the now crimson rabbit in his hands.

The Veteran Field marshal immediately reached down and pulled the helmet from the Prince's head to reveal his handsome face and the distraught expression that lay upon it. The boy had died in grief, and Eckhard suspected the rabbit of being at least partially responsible. With this in mind, he ripped the toy from the Prince's cold dead hands and then began to inspect it.

As the soldiers beneath his command witnessed their Field Marshal inspecting a stuffed rabbit on an active battlefield, they immediately rushed over to his side to protect him. One of the men commented on this situation.

"What is it, sir?"

Eckhard did not shift his gaze from the dead Prince and the toy he had fought so desperately to protect as he voiced his thoughts.

"Curious, isn't it... With his last dying breath, this boy fought to protect a toy... Why would he even bring such a thing to the battlefield?"

Eckhard recognized the tabard that the Prince wore, signifying him as a member of the Royal Family of Poland. With this in mind, a bitter expression appeared on his lips as he grabbed ahold of the toy and stuffed it into his pouch; after doing so, he gazed off into the distance towards Warsaw before making one final comment.

"Finish this battle quickly; it would appear the Polish Princess is missing her favorite toy... I intend to return it to her..."

The Austrian soldiers immediately saluted their Field Marshal upon hearing this before getting back to the frontlines. It did not take long for the well-trained and supplied Austrian Army to mop up the Polish Army's remnants after this point. Within an hour, the enemy either lay dead, had routed, or was taken as prisoners.

As for the corpse of the Polish Prince, it was buried in a mass grave alongside all of the deceased of the Polish Army; only the Austrian corpses would return to their homes. For the enemies of Austria, they were not afforded such a luxury.

Having finished the battle, Eckhard shifted his target towards Warsaw, where the remainder of the Polish Royal Family lay in hiding, far away from the consequences of their actions. Upon witnessing the spectacle of the Prince's death, Eckhard was convinced now more than ever that he would need to speak with the Polish King personally about his choices in life.

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