I've been lingering and reading the light novel translations in this site for some time now, and I must say that I really love the literature here.
Suddenly I managed to stumble upon the OLN by the title of Daybreak Hyperion, I got inspired to write something too. I have managed to write down my first "book" and I thought that instead of letting it rot in my drawer, why don't I post it online and maybe some like-minded people might appreciate it?
So to cut down to the chase, this will be my first try to write a novel in this way. I am humbly honored by the opportunity of my work be read by such amazing people such as you in this community. In no way am I a professional writer and English is not my mother tongue, but I do plan on going career if my writing skills get sharpened enough, and I thought that it would be great if I develop my skills by being in this community.
A also want to thank BitterSugar for lending me a helping hand!
So, here goes the summary of my OLN:
The year was 1813, Europe was in flames as the Napoleonic wars continued to rage on the face of the continent. Nathalie Toussaint was an elite soldier fighting for France, a female cross-dresser that joined the French Grand Army for personal reasons.
Her fate was forever changed when she met an unsuspecting hunter by the name of Reinhard Jaeger. Together with their friends, they try to live their lives as far away from the war as possible only to be dragged back in by circumstances beyond their control.
As the different warring nations of Europe clashed against each other in the closing years of the war, Nathalie and Reinhard discover that their pasts and their lives had been more intertwined than they ever could have imagined. Against the most unlikely and unexpected foe, Nathalie and Reinhard's beliefs and trust may be shaken... for them the closing years of the war was just the beginning.
Prologue:
Spoiler! :
Prologue: October 19th, 1813
A massive explosion shook the earth. Everything trembled in its violent wake. Smoke rose up from the city miles up into the air, shrouding the thousands of people beneath in a great shadow. The shockwave of its sound tore through everything... even the minds and hearts of tens of thousands of French soldiers in the city of Leipzig.
The soldiers were fighting street by street, house by house. They were in a battle with their lives within the grasp of the alliance of Prussia, Russia and Austria and Sweden.
It is 1:00 PM October 19, 1813 and the French Grande Armée fights for its very survival inside the city of Leipzig. It has been days already into the battle and the Emperor of the French, Napoleon Bonaparte, had come to the conclusion that it is a losing battle and decided to retreat.
However, the only liberation for the French was the sole bridge across the White Elster River.
A dreaded scream broke through the chaos, “The bridge...! The bridge is down!!!”
“We have no other way out! There’s nowhere to go!” the others cried out in panic and in fear for their lives.
Who wouldn't be? Thousands of enemy soldiers were advancing from the other end of the city.
Thirty thousand men were now stranded in the city. Thirty thousand exhausted, fatigued and demoralized men trapped in a labyrinth of wood and stone.
A river stood on one side and on the other was the enemy army intent on their utter destruction.
The destruction of the bridge meant defeat for the French.
Debris. Wood. People. In the thick of the chaotic battle, they all hurled through the air like mere pebbles. Through the explosions and confusions, hysterical shouting and the heavy treading of the soldiers' boots were heard.
Amidst the war torn streets stood Nathalie. With a gray scarf wrapped around her, she stared gravely at the plume of smoke rising from whatever remained of the bridge.
Panic. Confusion. Agitation. With these emotions in hand, everyone ran across the streets.
But Nathalie stood still. Without panic. Without confusion. Without agitation. Just there - staring at the destruction of the bridge.
“No.... no... it can’t be,” a very soft voice came out of her. It was a voice devoid of hope.
It was understandable - she had been in the devastated and war-torn city of Leipzig for days.
The stress and the fatigue she endured must have been intolerable.
“W-what? What the hell just happened?” holding her musket tighter with both her hands, her face contorted in confusion and fear. Her eyes trembled as she gazed upon the destruction ahead.
“W-W-What the hell just happened to the bridge?!” she once again cried out in a mix of emotions.
“..................Ugh!... Hey! Where do we go now?” Claire, a friend of Nathalie’s, stopped beside her and took deep breaths to quench her need for much needed air.
Nathalie looked back at her. In her eyes reflected the despair and uncertainty of being trapped in the city.
“Where do we head now?” the bespectacled lady asked once again, wiping the sweat off her forehead.
The two young women were in grave danger. Not only was a fierce battle raging around which placed them in harm’s way, but they weren't civilians in this war... they were part of the French Grande Armée.
They were wearing the same blue-white uniform and shooting the same musket like other Frenchmen.
“Cross the river!” Nathalie said to her friend. After adjusting her shako, she sprinted towards the bridge along with her friend.
“How...? H-how are we going to cross that?” Claire asked as she saw the huge river snaking around the city. The river's extend seemed impossible for her to cross no matter how much she thought of it.
“There's no other way than to swim it!” Nathalie shouted at Claire as she points at the other bank of the river.
“What?! Are you crazy? We’ll drown trying to cross this river!”
“You’re a good swimmer! I know you can swim across that!”
In the middle of their discussion, bullets whizzed past their heads. Enemy troops were closing in, shooting at anyone wearing a French uniform.
“Get in the water already!” Nathalie shouted again.
“What about you? You know you’re not that good in the water... you might drown trying to cross!”
“That’s why I’m going to find a shallower place where I can cross - now go!”
“No! I am not going to leave you here! We will both find a better crossing.”
“This is not the time to-------”
Before Nathalie could even finish, a cannonball bounced by dangerously close to them. It was so close that the two of them were almost thrown to the ground.
The impact cracked and destroyed the cobblestones that made up the road they were standing on. Glass panes from windows of the houses in the vicinity shattered. Splinters of wood sprayed through the open area.
Regaining their balance, the two young women sprinted and, ploughing and shoving their way through the densely packed body of soldiers, made their way to the edge of the river.
By the time they reached their destination, they felt nauseated from the exhaustion.
“Dammit! The enemy are closing in; we need to get out of here now.”
Nathalie’s eyes shook in fear as she saw a column of Prussian and Russian troops closing in from the road some distance ahead.
The enemy had broken through the Grimma Gate earlier and were starting to make ground through the ferocious house to house fighting.
Nathalie and Claire, however, know that it was just a matter of time before the city collapsed to the alliance. They needed to escape.
“Jump now! Jump now!” Claire reached out her hand, convincing Nathalie to jump with her as she stood by the edge of the river.
“Okay, okay! I’ll jump! Just help me swim so I don’t drown!”
“Good! Now let’s go!”
But before she could grab her friend’s hand, Nathalie saw a group of Prussians quickly closing in on them.
“Tch!” she knew they would get shot in the back if they swam the river with the enemy this close to them.
“Sorry Claire.” Nathalie muttered softly before she pushed her friend over.
She planned to distract the soldiers and give time for Claire to swim across the river safely.
“Wha...?” before the woman in glasses could even utter a single word, she was already falling towards the water.
“Live on.............,” it was the last word that Claire heard from Nathalie, and the last thing she saw was her friend before everything turned into the splashing of water.
Believing that her friend was safe, Nathalie turned around to see that the enemy were drawing near to her and the other French soldiers.
They were surrounded. They had them outnumbered. They were outgunned, yet she remained defiant.
She raised her musket to her shoulder and aimed at the approaching enemy, the concentration in her eyes almost inhuman.
“Let’s get this over with.” with these words, Nathalie pulled the trigger. Her story has begun.
A massive explosion shook the earth. Everything trembled in its violent wake. Smoke rose up from the city miles up into the air, shrouding the thousands of people beneath in a great shadow. The shockwave of its sound tore through everything... even the minds and hearts of tens of thousands of French soldiers in the city of Leipzig.
The soldiers were fighting street by street, house by house. They were in a battle with their lives within the grasp of the alliance of Prussia, Russia and Austria and Sweden.
It is 1:00 PM October 19, 1813 and the French Grande Armée fights for its very survival inside the city of Leipzig. It has been days already into the battle and the Emperor of the French, Napoleon Bonaparte, had come to the conclusion that it is a losing battle and decided to retreat.
However, the only liberation for the French was the sole bridge across the White Elster River.
A dreaded scream broke through the chaos, “The bridge...! The bridge is down!!!”
“We have no other way out! There’s nowhere to go!” the others cried out in panic and in fear for their lives.
Who wouldn't be? Thousands of enemy soldiers were advancing from the other end of the city.
Thirty thousand men were now stranded in the city. Thirty thousand exhausted, fatigued and demoralized men trapped in a labyrinth of wood and stone.
A river stood on one side and on the other was the enemy army intent on their utter destruction.
The destruction of the bridge meant defeat for the French.
Debris. Wood. People. In the thick of the chaotic battle, they all hurled through the air like mere pebbles. Through the explosions and confusions, hysterical shouting and the heavy treading of the soldiers' boots were heard.
Amidst the war torn streets stood Nathalie. With a gray scarf wrapped around her, she stared gravely at the plume of smoke rising from whatever remained of the bridge.
Panic. Confusion. Agitation. With these emotions in hand, everyone ran across the streets.
But Nathalie stood still. Without panic. Without confusion. Without agitation. Just there - staring at the destruction of the bridge.
“No.... no... it can’t be,” a very soft voice came out of her. It was a voice devoid of hope.
It was understandable - she had been in the devastated and war-torn city of Leipzig for days.
The stress and the fatigue she endured must have been intolerable.
“W-what? What the hell just happened?” holding her musket tighter with both her hands, her face contorted in confusion and fear. Her eyes trembled as she gazed upon the destruction ahead.
“W-W-What the hell just happened to the bridge?!” she once again cried out in a mix of emotions.
“..................Ugh!... Hey! Where do we go now?” Claire, a friend of Nathalie’s, stopped beside her and took deep breaths to quench her need for much needed air.
Nathalie looked back at her. In her eyes reflected the despair and uncertainty of being trapped in the city.
“Where do we head now?” the bespectacled lady asked once again, wiping the sweat off her forehead.
The two young women were in grave danger. Not only was a fierce battle raging around which placed them in harm’s way, but they weren't civilians in this war... they were part of the French Grande Armée.
They were wearing the same blue-white uniform and shooting the same musket like other Frenchmen.
“Cross the river!” Nathalie said to her friend. After adjusting her shako, she sprinted towards the bridge along with her friend.
“How...? H-how are we going to cross that?” Claire asked as she saw the huge river snaking around the city. The river's extend seemed impossible for her to cross no matter how much she thought of it.
“There's no other way than to swim it!” Nathalie shouted at Claire as she points at the other bank of the river.
“What?! Are you crazy? We’ll drown trying to cross this river!”
“You’re a good swimmer! I know you can swim across that!”
In the middle of their discussion, bullets whizzed past their heads. Enemy troops were closing in, shooting at anyone wearing a French uniform.
“Get in the water already!” Nathalie shouted again.
“What about you? You know you’re not that good in the water... you might drown trying to cross!”
“That’s why I’m going to find a shallower place where I can cross - now go!”
“No! I am not going to leave you here! We will both find a better crossing.”
“This is not the time to-------”
Before Nathalie could even finish, a cannonball bounced by dangerously close to them. It was so close that the two of them were almost thrown to the ground.
The impact cracked and destroyed the cobblestones that made up the road they were standing on. Glass panes from windows of the houses in the vicinity shattered. Splinters of wood sprayed through the open area.
Regaining their balance, the two young women sprinted and, ploughing and shoving their way through the densely packed body of soldiers, made their way to the edge of the river.
By the time they reached their destination, they felt nauseated from the exhaustion.
“Dammit! The enemy are closing in; we need to get out of here now.”
Nathalie’s eyes shook in fear as she saw a column of Prussian and Russian troops closing in from the road some distance ahead.
The enemy had broken through the Grimma Gate earlier and were starting to make ground through the ferocious house to house fighting.
Nathalie and Claire, however, know that it was just a matter of time before the city collapsed to the alliance. They needed to escape.
“Jump now! Jump now!” Claire reached out her hand, convincing Nathalie to jump with her as she stood by the edge of the river.
“Okay, okay! I’ll jump! Just help me swim so I don’t drown!”
“Good! Now let’s go!”
But before she could grab her friend’s hand, Nathalie saw a group of Prussians quickly closing in on them.
“Tch!” she knew they would get shot in the back if they swam the river with the enemy this close to them.
“Sorry Claire.” Nathalie muttered softly before she pushed her friend over.
She planned to distract the soldiers and give time for Claire to swim across the river safely.
“Wha...?” before the woman in glasses could even utter a single word, she was already falling towards the water.
“Live on.............,” it was the last word that Claire heard from Nathalie, and the last thing she saw was her friend before everything turned into the splashing of water.
Believing that her friend was safe, Nathalie turned around to see that the enemy were drawing near to her and the other French soldiers.
They were surrounded. They had them outnumbered. They were outgunned, yet she remained defiant.
She raised her musket to her shoulder and aimed at the approaching enemy, the concentration in her eyes almost inhuman.
“Let’s get this over with.” with these words, Nathalie pulled the trigger. Her story has begun.
Chapter 1:
Spoiler! :
Chapter 1: The eyes that pierce a soul.
Part 1
Bang!
6:00 PM. The sound of the gunshot resounded through the otherwise silent woods. As the plume of smoke from his weapon started to clear, the young man frowned with his eyebrow twitching in displease at the sight of missing his shot.
“Damn! There goes my dinner.” he grumbled, the hare hopping further and further away until it disappeared into the forest.
With a disappointed sigh, he reached for another cartridge from his ammunition pouch that was slung over his shoulder and went all the way down to his right hip.
That’s my last round too. Unlucky.
However, upon inserting his hand into the pouch, he realized it was empty. The young hunter had just used his last round, missing his last opportunity to catch a decent meal.
What the hell just happened there anyway?
He stared into the distant sky, where the smoke and turbulence of a battle was raging. He wondered about the massive explosion he heard and the huge plume of smoke he saw a few hours ago.
The young man’s name was Reinhard Jaeger, a hunter hailing from Prussia of average physique with striking brown eyes that looked intimidating yet inviting at the same time. Sporting a rough black vest left open over a long sleeved white shirt tucked inside a pair of trousers and a pair of simple leather boots, he looked like an ordinary everyday person with no unique characteristic at all. His brown hair fluttered along with the wind as it blew past him. He owned a custom made rifle - uncommon at the time due to the difficulty of crafting the rifling in a barrel of the weapon. The more universally-used infantry weapon was the smoothbore musket.
A rather more precise description of this young man was that he was the type of person that appeared to be a happy-go-lucky kind of guy; a simple minded fellow that decided on stuff at the very last moment.
If some of his friends were around him right now, they would probably be really uncomfortable as a battle was raging just a few miles from where he was standing. Yet, he would just smile at them as if he doesn't care.
“.......Nnnnnnnnggghhhh..... Looks like I’ll get to Berlin starving,” with another exasperated sigh of disappointment, he took a piece of bread from his bag and began nibbling on it.
With an extremely frustrated look, he walked towards the nearest tree that looked comfortable for him to rest against. He placed his rifle beside him, sitting on the grass with his head resting on the tree.
Reinhard withdrew a white locket from the inside of his long-sleeved shirt. It was a small circular locket about a few centimetres in width, adorned with beautiful golden coloured engravings.
He stared at the locket for a moment, holding it up against the afternoon sunlight shining through the canopy of the woods, contrasting it with the environment. Gently caressing it with his right thumb, he pondered about something very deeply, very sincerely. It was as if the locket had some sentimental values to him.
“...Maybe sometime I’ll get you back to your proper owner. Until then, you’re in my care.”
He caressed the locket one last time before he placed it back inside his shirt.
“That darn battle has been going on for days now... good thing it's drawing to an end,” he murmured, fixating his gaze at the direction of the city of Leipzig, his tone mixed with both boredom and exhaustion.
He had already been in the woods for two days - he arrived at Leipzig during the heat of the battle. Most battles in this era lasted from a few hours and up to a little under a day. He had not expected it to last this long.
In any event, he seemed certain that the battle was almost over. The mortar shots and musket volleys that he had heard for the last days have dwindled and weakened.
Sitting idly by the tree without anything to do, he stared blankly at the ground, his head slowly going numb from inactivity.
“Aaaaahhhhh!!! Dammit, I’m so bored!” he fussed as he scratched his head in a furious wave of circles, messing up his hair.
All of it just because he was tired of waiting before he could move to Berlin and see someone that he had business with.
He had the option of walking back and looking for another route towards his destination, but he was just too lazy to try and instead ended up waiting for two whole days for the battle to end.
By this point, he must have been thinking that if he walked back and tried another route to Berlin he would already be there, enjoying a mug of beer.
He bit and chewed on the bread he was holding, until none of it was left in his hands. Stretching his arms and legs, he yawned his heart out, relaxed and made himself at home under the sturdy tree.
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on the tree and closing his eyes. He thought that sleeping would be the best thing he could do to wait for the battle to end completely.
He made such a peaceful and relaxed face in trying to sleep, it was as if all of his worries have been thrown out of the window and the only thing he cared about was the comfortable positioning of his head against the tree.
Such a comfortable position was not to last, though.
Before he could even sleep for five minutes, the sound of gunshots nearby awoke him.
One. Two. The sound of the shots seemed to become louder with the number of shots fired. Along with the sound, there were loud *tadud tadud tadud* sounds, Reinhard listened closely and the sound got louder and louder, clearer and clearer... until it became clear to him that the sound was the thundering hooves of horses.
Pop! Pop! Bang!
The sound of sporadic musket shots resounded in the distance once again.
What in the world was that, now?
He peeked around the tree he was resting against, using his rifle as a support. He saw figures in the distance, some of which were obscured by the trees and bushes of the woods, while the others were at clear sight and unmistakable.
Squinting his eyes, he focused on the figures ahead.
He saw figures in blue and white... all running about in a way that looked like a chaotic free-for-all, screaming and yelling in panicked voices.
“Run! Run!” the figures in blue yelled.
“Dammit, they’re on our tail!” screamed another in obvious fear.
Reinhard's pair of eyebrows almost met when he saw the figures run about mindlessly.
At first, he was a bit unsure of what was happening. It all happened so fast that he was left no choice but to be dumbstruck for a moment.
It was until he saw the source of the thundering sounds that it became as clear as day.
He never could have guessed that the horses were Russian Cavalry in pursuit of fleeing French Infantry!
“Get them!” the Russians shouted.
“Kill them! Kill them!” another cavalrymen yelled in bloodthirsty anger.
With heavy swords and glaring sabres being struck at the backs of the fleeing French soldiers, screams of agony and death filled the air.
The disorganized French were no match for the horsemen that were pursuing them. They were being cut down at will, with little to no chance of fighting back.
The blades swinging in the air with *whoosh* sounds pushed Reinhard out of his sleepy state, the terrifying sound of the weapon disconcerting even for the most brave of men.
Crap! I need to get out here NOW!
Reinhard knew that his napping haven was not the best place in the world to be in, right now. He picked up his rifle and ran to try and hide.
With all the chaos going on around him, he was careful to avoid getting into contact with either party as his identity could be easily mistaken, ending up in a not-so-enjoyable encounter.
Running from trees to trees, taking effective cover from them and using moments of openings when the Russians and the fleeing French could not see him, he moved along the forest trying to escape.
Where in the world did they come from?
His heart was beating so fast, the only thing in his mind was to get out of the woods alive.
He gripped his rifle tightly. Sweat poured down his forehead. His knees trembled.
Who wouldn't be intimidated by galloping steeds mounted by rough-faced mustachioed Russians filled with killing intent swinging their swords wildly in the air?
He felt even more at edge as he watched as Russian horsemen cut their share of the disarrayed French. The Russians showed no mercy and slew anyone that they see as the enemy, everyone simply hated whoever was on the other side.
The Napoleonic wars has been raging for over a decade now. Alliances and enemies have changed multiple times. Borders of nations had been drawn and redrawn. Atrocities were committed to each other by both sides. Obviously people will begin to hate whoever was beyond their borders.
Even so, Europe just seemed to particularly hate the French. Who could blame the coalition? Many of the members of the different coalitions have been defeated and humiliated by the Emperor Napoleon and his armies in the previous wars.
The only problem...? The coalitions were the ones that usually declared war on France, only for their armies to be routed and destroyed. In addition to that, Napoleon had a habit of ending the war by marching into the capital cities of the countries he had soundly defeated... of course, the consequences being everyone in the country hating Napoleon.
This seemed to have reached the last straw though, as the Russians released all their pent up rage and hate on the fleeing French right in front of them.
“Aaarrrghhh! Aaaaahhhhh!!!” the French soldiers screamed in terror as they desperately ran away from their pursuers all the while being cut down in the process.
Even with all of this chaos going on around him, Reinhard effectively evaded both the Russian cavalrymen and the French troops by moving from one tree to another... until his luck seemed to run out.
“Oh shit!!!!” Reinhard cursed in a concealed shout.
He was about to move towards another tree and take cover, but abruptly stopped in the middle of the way and took cover behind a huge hollow log that had fallen.
There was someone in front of him. He barely caught them by the corner of his eye.
Gulp. He swallowed and exhaled forcefully.
He looked around, trying to find somewhere he could hide; he was out in the open.
The only thing that stood between him and the threat was the fallen log.
Slowly, he moved his head up. He peeked nervously at what was on the other side of the log.
What stopped him was a Russian hussar. He was proudly sitting on his horse holding the reins with authority. His eyes were going from left to right, surveying the area for any signs of French infantry.
His stance was that of an aggressive horseman ready to charge at anything that would come into his field of vision. The scabbard which contained his sabre looked infinitely dangerous.
“Dammit!” Reinhard whispered to himself and crouched down as low as he can, making himself as small as possible to be able to hide from the eyes of the hussar.
“I don’t want to be mistaken as a Frenchman on so many levels,” he mumbled. The thought of being mistaken as French gave him the chills.
Tch! Looks like I got no other choice.
He crawled ever so slowly on all fours towards the end of the log, hoping he could get inside it to hide, to wait for all of this to pass. After all, the log was big enough to fit about three people.
“C’mon......... just a little more,” he mumbled to himself again and slowly moved his limbs one at a time.
Every little inch he moves towards the end of the log, the closer he gets to safety.
He was sure that when the afternoon sun began to set and the darkness took its place, the horsemen would leave and he would be safe.
“Now the hard part... I need to enter without being noticed.”
He was now on the end of the log; the only thing left to do now was to go inside... the problem was that he’d be exposed if he just suddenly jumped into the opening. He needed to distract the rider.
He picked up a rock the size of a fist from the ground. He was going to throw it and distract the horseman with the noise it would create, hopefully buying him enough time to enter the log.
This is the oldest trick in the book but I guess it will work.
He was about to throw the rock, but then, from out of nowhere, there came a loud crashing noise.The sound of the bushes shaking and rustling followed suit.
It sounded like something the size of a man fell and crashed into some bushes somewhere behind him.
It was a sound that almost made Reinhard’s heart skip a beat.
“W-W-What the hell was that?!” in shock, his trembling hands dropped the rock and he looked around to find the source of the sound.
Suddenly, he heard a disconcerting *kaching* sound. The sudden sharp sound sends chills down his spine.
Reinhard’s head instinctively cocked back into the direction of the unsettling sound.
Just from his instinct, Reinhard knew that the sound meant bad news. His eyes widened even more in shock as he saw what it was....
It was the Russian pulling out his gleaming sabre and then suddenly galloping towards Reinhard’s location.
The hussar had clearly heard the noise of the moving of bushes and the loud thud coming from Reinhard’s side of the hollow log.
With his sharp sabre in hand the hussar ordered his horse to charge. The horse began to advance forwards with reckless abandon.
“Aw shit, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Reinhard groaned and quickly tried to come up with ways to defend himself from the sudden attack.
I don’t have any cartridges left!
My rifle doesn’t have a bayonet. he noted, all the while giving a sarcastic smile at his rifle.
“Sometimes I just really hate you Musky,” he whispered to his weapon, talking to the rifle as if it was alive.
Time seemed to slow down for Reinhard - the movements of anything and everything around him seemed to stop, as he looked at the eyes of the Russian atop his mount.
“C’mon you Russian!!!!!” he yelled out at the Russian horseman and stood up, preparing himself for combat.
His hands held tighter on his rifle. He held it by two hands on the muzzle end much like a club. He gritted his teeth and his eyes sharpened its look as if the stare itself would be enough to kill the enemy.
He bent his knees a little, lowering his centre of gravity, in a stance that seemed like he would swing the rifle like a club or a bat at the incoming Russian.
Oh shit! Oh shit he’s really coming.
His hands held his rifle with such force he could hear his skin squeak as it rubbed against the wooden part of his weapon.
Reinhard prepared to stand his ground against a clearly advantaged foe.
Adrenaline gushed into his system and cold sweat slid down his forehead.
He planted his foot down to the ground hard, ready to battle.
Part 2
“Dammit, how long will these Russians chase us for?” Nathalie screamed in frustration, breathless from the elongated run from the enemy.
Through skill and a little luck, she somehow managed to fight her way through the enemies in the city. She found a shallow area of the river where she crossed without getting much of her equipment wet.
Along with several other French soldiers, she managed to reach a wooded area a few kilometres away from the city. It was an area where the advantages of the chasing Russian Cavalries was limited to some extent.
“H-Hey! Voltigeur, you are part of the young guard, right? ....Under Marshal Oudinot?" a French soldier asked Nathalie after noticing her outfit.
The blue uniform with the green epaulettes was clearly visible even from a distance. Along with her shako which was also adorned in yellow linings, the green and red coloured plume on top strongly implied that she was part of one of the regiments of voltigeurs of the Young Guard.
The voltigeurs were a body of soldiers that act as the elite skirmishers of the French Grande Armée. They were grouped together with other young soldiers in the imperial guard to form the Young Guard, its youngest members. They served alongside the Middle Guard and the feared personal units of the Emperor of France himself... the Old Guard.
However, the French soldier did not recognize that the voltigeur he was speaking to was a female due to the scarf wrapped around her which covered her face well.
“Yeah... do you know what happened back there? Did Marshal Oudinot make it out?" Nathalie replied to the soldier as they continued to run as far away from the city as possible.
“I don’t know what in the world happened to the bridge, but I’m sure the marshal made it out. The same goes for the majority of the Young Guard... but why were you left here?" the French soldier asked.
“I got separated from the rest of my regiment along with a few others during an intense attack from the Russians in Oudinot’s sector,” she replied. “I joined the rear guard to try and hold off the enemy while the main body retreated. I didn’t think I’d end up here.”
Just as she finished her reply, a bright line blurred past her face. The French soldier she was talking to mere seconds earlier was now lying on the ground - either dead or dying from sustaining a long cut through his back.
“What the....?!” Nathalie’s eyes were filled with shock.
She looked up and saw a threatening sight.
A hussar stood in front of her. The white shiny line that passed near Nathalie’s face moments ago was the sabre the hussar was wielding. It was now coated with thick, crimson liquid.
He sat on his horse as he looked down upon the voltigeur. He raised the sabre above his head before swinging it at her.
“Oh... for the love of...!”
Nathalie jumped to one side. She evaded a deadly blow as the Russian hussar swung the sabre at her trying cut her head off with one clean strike to the neck.
She could clearly hear the sabre produce an unnerving *whoosh* sound as it cut through the air, missing her by inches.
“Die, you French pig!” the Russian roared, swinging his sabre violently once again, trying to land a decisive strike on Nathalie.
Being on top of a horse, his advantage was overwhelming in a melee combat. He could easily wound Nathalie with the sabre, but she could barely reach the rider because of the height disadvantage.
Another factor was also her own short stature. The Russian hussar could also order his horse to move wherever he pleases, making him more mobile than a lone infantryman. These detrimental factors forced Nathalie to be on the defensive.
“...Ugh!” blocking and evading the repeated attacks of the horseman left Nathalie with no time to shoot the Russian with her smoothbore musket.
Turning her back now and running away to escape was out of question. Doing so will only leave her open to be hacked down.
The only choice she had left to escape was to stab the Russian with her musket’s bayonet.
She waited for the perfect angle for a decisive blow against the enemy. One wrong move from the hussar that would reduce his height advantage. A move that will leave him vulnerable for a counterattack.
“Come on!”
Nathalie jumped a few paces back to draw an attack that would leave the Russian to stoop down in order to attack, allowing her to reach him with the bayonet.
The Russian bit the bait. He swung his sabre and leaned down as he tried to reach Nathalie with it. With a quick flick of her musket, Nathalie parried the sword aside before she continued to thrust it into her foe's chest.
“...Aaaaaaargh!” the Russian hussar fell to the ground and his horse ran away. The bayonet was impaled deep into his chest.
Nathalie, somewhat astounded by her success, was left breathless from the battle.
I can’t afford to get into a scrap like that again. she thought.
She adjusted her shako and wiped the sweat on her forehead before proceeding to run deeper into the woods with the other French troops. The enemy cavalries were relentless despite the trees that slowed them down.
“Damn, here they come again!” a Frenchman once again yelled to his comrades, pointing at the incoming Russians. Another squadron of cavalrymen was headed straight for them.
Some of the soldiers in the ragtag group fired their muskets, trying to shoot down the riders or the horses. Others ran as fast as they can, trying to shake off their pursuers or at least finding a safe hiding place to shelter them from the attack.
“It’s every man for himself!” some of the French soldiers yelled as they ran away. They abandoned their weapons and other equipment to reduce the weight that they were carrying in a desperate bid to escape from the carnage.
However, the Russian hussars managed to close the distance and the wholesale butchery of the fleeing French soldiers continued even though they were several kilometres away from the city.
“Damn, these Russians never know when the hell to quit!”
Nathalie became extremely frustrated at the stubbornness of the Russian pursuers.
There were just too many Russian horsemen in the area. Nathalie ran and hid behind the trees, trying to make her way into a safe area to find a way to escape from them.
She knew she wouldn't last a minute if she got caught in a fight with that many horsemen.
She looked at all directions. The only things that she could see was the Russians chasing and cutting down her fellow French soldiers as they fled in panic.
Knowing that it was pointless to run away from the horses' speed, she looked around and surveyed the area quickly. She was looking for anywhere to hide in. Anywhere.
Just then, she saw movements by the corner of her eye.
She cocked her head to her left to confirm that what she saw wasn’t only her imagination. It wasn't.
At first glance, she couldn't move. She just stared at that direction, awestruck at what she saw.
There were two horsemen.
Russian horsemen.
With their sabres drawn.
Coming right at her.
“Dammit! Dammit!” she screamed out in irritation, turning around and running away from the pursuers.
She had extreme difficulty dealing with just a single rider. There was no way she’d survive fighting two at the same time while she was alone.
“You have got to be kidding me!” she grumbled, voicing out her frustration.
“You’ll be dead in a matter seconds after I cut your head off! So you better make it easy for the both of us and stop running so I can swing my sword at you!” the Russian yelled at her, taunting the voltigeur with his cocky words.
She did not even dare to look back. All it took was one mistake. One error, and it would all be over.
Nathalie continued to run away as fast as she can. But she knew herself that a man can never outrun a horse. Despite her effort in trying to escape, the horsemen only got closer and closer.
The distance between Nathalie and the two Russians was quickly shrinking. It would just be a matter of time before she was slashed by the sharp Russian steel.
“Hahaha! There is no hope now! This is where you will fall!” one of the Russian horsemen yelled again, his sabre raised high.
Need... to...... find a way... out!
Even though all hope seemed to be lost, she still continued running. She was not the type of person to easily gives up.
It was then that her foot suddenly slipped on a rock on a steep slope. She started to fall and tumble out of control, hitting trees and bushes and rocks on the way down to the bottom of what seemed to be a small ravine.
“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
She screamed, curling up into a little ball in instict. She placed her arms over her face and head, trying to shield her vulnerable head from the violent descent.
She could not even see where she was falling; she just closed her eyes and hoped for the best.
Her body bounced around like a ragdoll, seemingly lifeless as it finally met contact with a strong loud thud when she landed on a big bush.
It was almost like it was all planned; she just fell and disappeared from view.
The two Russians saw her fall and tumble, but they could not see her in the bottom.
“No one would survive that kind of fall," one of her pursuers said to his fellow horseman after examining the area where he thought the voltigeur could have landed.
“Yeah, you’ll be lucky as hell if you got only a few broken bones from that!” the other Russian replied in agreement.
Convinced that their enemy was done for, the Russians left the area, not even doubling back to look at the site once again.
They were so sure that fall and the impact on her body was enough to kill her that they never bothered checking.
However, at the bottom of the ravine, amongst the twigs and fallen branches, Nathalie slowly crawled out of the bushes.
No matter how little the probabilities are, she survived the fall without any major injuries. All she got were a few scratches here and there and a really dirty appearance from being covered with leaves and dirt from the fall.
“Ow! Ow, my butt, my butt! That hurt.”
Nathalie held her bottom in pain and got up from what looked like a pretty serious fall. She survived the accident because she had fallen on a large bush which cushioned her fall well enough that she didn’t suffer any serious wound.
“Looks like I finally got away from those bastards,” she brushed the dirt away from her body.
Nathalie looked around to check if she really was safe. She walked out of the bush where she fell and looked up.
She felt her heart sank.
Oh! For the love of....! Give me a break!
To her dismay, there was a lone Russian hussar standing about fifty yards away from her. Another Russian eager to cut a French soldier in two.
Just how many of these bastards are here chasing us anyway?! Nathalie thought after she realized that there seemed to be no end to the number of Russian hussars.
The enemy caught sight of her and unsheathed his sabre. With a cocky and confident smirk on his face, the Russian began charging straight into her at almost a full gallop.
“Shit! Seriously?!”
Without her even thinking, her body reacted based on muscle memory. As the threat approached her, she quickly placed her musket on her shoulder and cocked the flint mechanism of the musket.
She was totally guessing where the musket ball will land if she shoots now. She had to wait for the Russian to come closer - if she pulled the trigger too early, she’d probably miss considering it was a moving target.. She aligned her eyes with the musket’s barrel.
The muskets issued to soldiers did not have sights... they never needed them as soldiers in this kind of warfare relied on mass volleys of disciplined musket fire and not on individual shots to defeat the enemy. This was because muskets were not that accurate past 100 yards. However, they compensated this inaccuracy by forming lines and firing in unison in order to shoot out the maximum firepower they could dish out for the shortest amount of time possible.
But Nathalie was no regular infantryman, she was a voltigeur... an elite. The best shots anyone could find in the entirety of the French Grande Armée.
She readied her weapon, taking aim. Eyes focused on the straight barrel of her musket, she carefully lined it up with her target.
Just a little closer... a little more... a little more...
Allowing the enemy to move closer will increase her chances of hitting. She let the horseman charge towards her closer. She only has one shot... one chance to do this.
Nathalie knew that missing meant death. She took her time aiming, letting the horseman fill her field of vision.
Her finger was ready to pull the trigger; she was already squeezing and applying slight pressure on it when suddenly a black figure appeared in her line of fire.
“W-What in the...?!” Nathalie blurted when she saw the figure that blocked her shot at the Russian.
W-Where did....? Where in the world did he come from?!
She haltingly looked at the figure that suddenly popped out from nowhere. Needless to say, she was extremely annoyed by the sudden appearance of what she thought was another threat.
It was Reinhard. The abruptness of the charge of the Russian hussar took him completely by surprise that he did not even notice the voltigeur. He thought he was the one being charged at. In reality, it was Nathalie that was only a few paces behind him that was the actual target.
Who do I shoot?! Who do I shoot?! confused and shocked by the sudden appearance of the Prussian hunter ahead of her, Nathalie faced the dilemma of who’s the one she needed to deal with first.
Her eyes quickly went to and fro between the charging Russian and the Prussian who suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
“This day just keeps on getting more stupid!” the voltigeur shouted out, then stepped a few feet to the side to get Reinhard out of her line of fire.
She deemed that the greater threat as of now was the Russian. She will just deal with the mysterious black figure later.
Nathalie adjusted her aim as quickly as she can and shot at the horseman, missing Reinhard by mere inches.
“Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” she screamed as she pulled the trigger, letting out accumulated frustration and anger along with the shot.
The Russian went down with a loud thud and his horse shook its head before it ran away. Reinhard turned, noticing the French soldier.
Part 3
Part 3
As the smoke from the musket's shot diminished in the air, Reinhard saw Nathalie's covered face through the cloud of smoke. Still in her shooting stance, Nathalie glared at Reinhard with a confused expression, as if she was pondering whether he was or was not a threat.
This guy is probably the one that shot the Russian.
As this thought went through Reinhard’s head, he saw the French soldier looking straight at him with inscrutable sapphire eyes.
Oh man! H-H-He’s staring at me! What the hell is he thinking?
Reinhard thought, panic and bewilderment replacing his otherwise aloof emotion.
He noticed that Nathalie’s gaze suddenly shifted from his eyes and down to the rifle he was holding. The cryptic pair of eyes focused on the rifle intently, as if absorbing the image of it by staring at it.
Reinhard could almost hear his own heartbeat with every second that passed.
Before long, Nathalie’s gaze shifted back into Reinhard's eyes and a moment of fear and uncertainty left the two completely motionless.
He surely thinks that I’m an enemy. Dammit Musky, I really hate your uselessness right now. Reinhard thought while desperately thinking of a way to communicate with the French soldier and try to persuade him that he was not an enemy nor a threat.
“W-W-Wait, good sir... I am... I am not...” before he can finish his explanation, Nathalie came charging at him at an alarming speed.
Reinhard's eyes widened upon seeing the tip of the bayonet heading straight for his face.
With threatening intensity, Nathalie thrust the bayonet at Reinhard in an attempt to kill him.
Man, this guy is quick!
Reinhard evaded the sharp tip of the blade with little inches to spare by ducking. He felt the air move as the musket thrust past over his head. The bayonet was so close that he could see the sharp point very clearly.
This soldier wasn't just some pushover that would back down - Reinhard needed to do something... and fast.
“Oh no you don’t!!!!” Nathalie swiftly changed the trajectory of her musket from horizontal into vertical, attempting to bash Reinhard’s skull with the butt end of her weapon. Reinhard easily jumped out of the way, staying clear out of the weapon’s path.
Damn, I can’t hit this guy! He’s too agile!
Nathalie thought in dissatisfaction. She was about to perform another attack but stopped when she felt a strong tugging on her weapon.
Reinhard threw his Musky to the ground, then grabbed Nathalie's musket with both his hands and pulled the weapon towards him - pulling Nathalie along with it. He bashed her with his shoulder, ripping the musket away from her hands. She fell to the ground with an audible thud.
He has such a weak grip on his weapon, just what kind of a soldier is this?
Reinhard asked himself as he wondered about the unexpected weak strength of the soldier. The puzzled Reinhard threw the musket away and took a closer look at the soldier clad in blue and white.
He was utterly surprised when he saw Nathalie wielding his rifle that he named “Musky”. His own rifle was pointed straight at him, ready to be fired at any moment.
“I already told you that I’m not the enemy,” he said to Nathalie, still trying to persuade her. “And you! Are you really gonna shoot me? Musky, why?!” he added, waving and moving his hands as if trying to court a lady.
“You’re talking to your weapon, weirdo? Seriously?!! It’s really getting on my nerves.”
Nathalie scowled at Reinhard with a clearly irritated voice. The annoyed Frenchwoman then cocked the gun and pointed the muzzle at Reinhard’s crotch.
“...”
Reinhard was silenced by where the French soldier aimed his rifle.
“What are you doing?” he asked, wondering of the intentions of the blue clad soldier.
“...”
Nathalie didn’t even reply. She pulled the trigger and the rifle’s flint produced sparks but there was no familiar sound of a musket's shot. Nathalie’s eyes widened in surprise when the rifle did not fire.
“Shit! It’s not loaded?!” Nathalie's jaw dropped in shock.
“Ahem! What are you doing?” Reinhard asked her again, resting his hands on his waist.
“Tch! I thought I could have blown your balls away,” Nathalie grumbled with clear disappointment.
“W-what did you say...?!” Reinhard nonchalantly walked behind Nathalie. He wrapped his arm around her neck and placed the voltigeur in a playful chokehold. “Dammit! Trying to use my own gun to blow my balls away?! How evil of you!”
Reinhard applied pressure down on her neck. Nathalie tapped out as fast as she possibly can before her face turned even more blue from the lack of oxygen.
He’s way too small.
Only then Reinhard was able to examine the soldier in detail. He was baffled by the weakness of the soldier’s grip on the musket. Even now, he wondered about the body build that was very thin and small for the average soldier. Another thing he noticed was the the soldier seemed to be very soft and very warm.
Wait a minute... is he...??
However, before he could come to a conclusion, he suddenly heard the nightmarish sound of a horse galloping again. “This way, it was this way!” the voices came from the same direction of the heavy stomping of the horses.
Reinhard stopped his chokehold and covered the mouth of Nathalie with his left hand and across her chest with his right. He pulled himself and the soldier he was holding into the big hollow log.
He felt something weird in his hand. It seemed that something filled the grip of his right hand.
What the hell?
However, he could not focus on at the moment. There are Russians outside and they weren't exactly the most friendly chaps right now, especially now that they saw a comrade of theirs lying lifelessly on the ground.
He overheard the Russians after they found the dead body. From the sound alone coming from the Russian cavalrymen, he knew that they were a few feet away from him at most. Uncalled noises simply wasn't an option.
Reinhard brought his lips closer to the ear of the mysterious French soldier in his arms.
“Hush. Stay quiet, they must not know we’re here,” Reinhard whispered with an anxious voice, trying to keep both of them hidden from the Russians. “I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth. Don’t make a sound, alright?”
She answered with a gentle nod. Following suit, Reinhard removed his hand.
“What in the world do you think you’re holding right now?!” Nathalie quickly denounced as soon as Reinhard let go of her mouth.
Nathalie looked over her shoulder at Reinhard, her soft but noticeably annoyed voice muffled a little by the scarf covering her place.
“W-W-What are you talking about?” the confused Reinhard asked.
“Y-You are groping my breast, you damn pervert!” she fretted, and Reinhard soon noticed that the little face of her that was exposed was glowing red.
Reinhard's face also showed a faint sign of blushing when Nathalie revealed that she was a woman. All this time, he was thinking that the soldier he was with was a “he”.
Wha... What the....?! So that was the soft thing that I felt in my hand?!
“Y-You mean what I’m holding isn’t a bag of loot inside your uniform?” the flustered Reinhard replied. Cold sweat dropped from his forehead and his jaw trembled from the awkwardness of the situation.
“WHAT?!” she angrily shouted out loud. “You mistook a woman’s breast for a bag of loot?!”
The sudden outbursts of Nathalie caused Reinhard to panic, who quickly covered Nathalie's mouth again to keep her quiet, while his right hand, maybe due to the astonishment, squeezed her breast tighter as he pulled her closer into him.
Nathalie’s face turned bright red from the sudden pressure applied to her chest.
“Eeeeep!” the muffled scream of a woman being restrained echoed inside the log.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry but please keep quiet for a moment,” Reinhard said after hearing the embarrassed scream of the woman, he was in such a panic that he had no clue of what he was doing.
One of the Russians, who was only a few feet away, heard the muffled screams but wasn't sure where the source of the sound was.
“Did you hear something?” he asked, signaling the other Russians to quiet down.
“No, what did you hear?” another replied.
“Some sort of scream from somewhere, about boobs and loot,” the first Russian said as he looked around.
“You’re a damn pervert as always, you make me sick!” a third one remarked with disgusted eyes.
“Let’s just get out of here; we need to get back before it turns dark,” a fourth one uttered upon noticing the slowly dimming sky.
With this, they picked up the dead body of their fellow soldier as he was an officer, and started to go back towards the direction of the city.
Reinhard and Nathalie stayed immobile inside the log for a couple of moments. They listened for any signs that the enemy might still be in the vicinity. They just wanted to be sure that the Russians have left for good and that they were safe.
“Alright, it looks like we’re in the clear,” Reinhard said in relief after a few minutes after the Russians' departure.
Reinhard released Nathalie from his clutch and crawled out of the log. He slowly stood up, scratching his head, wondering and trying to understand what had just happened.
“Damn you,” Nathalie grumbled at Reinhard with eyes that were filled with both anger and embarrassment. She clenched her fist with the intent to knock him out.
Chills went through Reinhard’s spine when he heard the threatening voice. Feeling a dark, deadly and ominous aura rising from behind him filled his heart with fear. His hands shook and his knees trembled. His feet started to get cold.
W-What... should I do? He thought, genuinely fearful of the woman.
He gulped nervously and turned around, ready to apologize, and even beg forgiveness for his sins to the woman. He had his hands raised at his chest level, trying to tell the woman that he was very sincerely apologetic for what happened.
“I’m sor...."
He wasn't able to finish his sentence.
The moment he spun around to face Nathalie, a vigorous punch greeted his face. The punch, filled with the power and strength of an embarrassed and enraged woman, made contact with such ferocity that it sent Reinhard flying back a few feet.
Landing on his back with a thud, he really thought that he was going to die.
“Aaaaaargh!” he shouted in pain and tried to get up, only to end up falling back onto his knees. Holding his face in pain, he looked at Nathalie through the gaps of his fingers, who was burning in anger.
“What the hell did you think, suddenly grabbing me right there?!”
Nathalie inquired with her arms crossed in discontent,throwing daggers at Reinhard.
“To top that off, you... you... you mistook it for... a bag of loot?!” she continued as she blushes, stomping Reinhard over and over again, releasing her rage on the hapless Prussian. “What? Is it so hard that it felt like a bag of coins in your hands?”
“Ow! Ow! Ow! Forgive me... forgive me...” Reinhard said, pleading for his life and trying his best to shield himself from the relentless onslaught of stomping.
“Gyyyaaaaaaa!!!!!!” Nathalie yelled in answer and continued to stomp relentlessly. She released all her emotions into the devastating blows that she delivered to the Prussian.
Releasing such rage and embarrassment left Nathalie exhausted, her heavy breathing clearly audible despite being covered by a scarf. Her face was red like a tomato at this point.
“Who are you, anyway?” she asked and stops stomping, readjusting his shako and trying to calm herself down.
Reinhard, still on the ground, slowly lifted his head to face her. He tilted his head to one side and winked at the woman.
“Before asking the name of someone else, shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?” he replied in a somewhat mocking tone, smiling at the woman.
Ticked off by the response, Nathalie lifted her foot again, exhibiting the frightening sole of her boot at Reinhard, threatening to stomp him again.
“Just answer my question already ,darn it!” she shouted with a threatening voice.
“Okay, okay! Chill down, miss.” Reinhard frantically waved his hands in surrender, fearful of the painful blows from the Frenchwoman that stood before him. “But could you please put down your foot? It’s kind of hard to answer while seeing the soles of your boot from this angle.”
“...”
“...”
The two of them just stared at each other.
“Fair enough,” Nathalie responded, lowering her foot.
Standing up, Reinhard dusted himself and proceeded to introduce himself, “I’m Reinhard Jaeger, a hunter. I just wanted to hunt some food and rest when you people suddenly came here, running with horse guys chasing you.”
“I just asked for your name, yet you already spew out a lot of crap,” Nathalie replied, clearly unimpressed.
Reinhard’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the soldier’s response.
“Well, it’s not like it’s very common for a woman to be an actual soldier on the battlefield. I didn’t actually expect that you’re a girl until...” he stopped before finishing his sentence, knowing that she would start to abuse him again if reminded of what happened inside the log.
“Um, well, now that you know me, I think it would just be right if you introduce yourself too, right?” Reinhard said as he picks up his rifle “Musky” from the ground. When he stood up, he saw the woman looking for her musket, not even listening to what he has said.
“Oi! You could try to listen to people from time to time, you know?” he said.
“Me?” she responded, picking up her musket from the ground.
“Who else would I be talking to?” Reinhard replied.
“Right.... there....” Nathalie responded and pointed her finger at Musky, making fun of Reinhard’s weird habit of talking and communicating with his rifle.
“...”
It’s amazing how easily this woman can piss me off, he thought.
Nathalie checked her musket, making sure that its mechanisms are undamaged. Without loading the weapon, she cocked the musket and pulled the trigger. The hammer struck forward, confirming that her weapon was functional.
“Nathalie,” she said with a soft and very feminine voice.
“P-Pardon me....???” Reinhard said, failing to pick up Nathalie's barely audible voice.
Nathalie removed the scarf on her face and the shako on her head, revealing her long blond hair that slowly fell down almost to her hips, just beside her scabbard where a short sabre was hanging. The yellow collar, the primary distinction of the voltigeurs, was very beautifully wrapped around her slender neck. The French blue coat with its intricate designs harmoniously blended in well with the colour of her hair.
The afternoon sunlight slowly setting behind her, hidden by the woods produced a scene that mesmerized the hunter. Her sapphire eyes looked at Reinhard. The mysterious pair of eyes moved him as if it was piercing his soul from within.
“....Nathalie ........My name is Nathalie Toussaint,” she said as she gently brushes her beautiful long blond hair behind her ear, repeating her name for him.
“........Nathalie... Toussaint...,” Reinhard whispered to himself.
He smiled warmly at Nathalie, "Well then... It's a pleasure to meet you!"
Part 1
Bang!
6:00 PM. The sound of the gunshot resounded through the otherwise silent woods. As the plume of smoke from his weapon started to clear, the young man frowned with his eyebrow twitching in displease at the sight of missing his shot.
“Damn! There goes my dinner.” he grumbled, the hare hopping further and further away until it disappeared into the forest.
With a disappointed sigh, he reached for another cartridge from his ammunition pouch that was slung over his shoulder and went all the way down to his right hip.
That’s my last round too. Unlucky.
However, upon inserting his hand into the pouch, he realized it was empty. The young hunter had just used his last round, missing his last opportunity to catch a decent meal.
What the hell just happened there anyway?
He stared into the distant sky, where the smoke and turbulence of a battle was raging. He wondered about the massive explosion he heard and the huge plume of smoke he saw a few hours ago.
The young man’s name was Reinhard Jaeger, a hunter hailing from Prussia of average physique with striking brown eyes that looked intimidating yet inviting at the same time. Sporting a rough black vest left open over a long sleeved white shirt tucked inside a pair of trousers and a pair of simple leather boots, he looked like an ordinary everyday person with no unique characteristic at all. His brown hair fluttered along with the wind as it blew past him. He owned a custom made rifle - uncommon at the time due to the difficulty of crafting the rifling in a barrel of the weapon. The more universally-used infantry weapon was the smoothbore musket.
A rather more precise description of this young man was that he was the type of person that appeared to be a happy-go-lucky kind of guy; a simple minded fellow that decided on stuff at the very last moment.
If some of his friends were around him right now, they would probably be really uncomfortable as a battle was raging just a few miles from where he was standing. Yet, he would just smile at them as if he doesn't care.
“.......Nnnnnnnnggghhhh..... Looks like I’ll get to Berlin starving,” with another exasperated sigh of disappointment, he took a piece of bread from his bag and began nibbling on it.
With an extremely frustrated look, he walked towards the nearest tree that looked comfortable for him to rest against. He placed his rifle beside him, sitting on the grass with his head resting on the tree.
Reinhard withdrew a white locket from the inside of his long-sleeved shirt. It was a small circular locket about a few centimetres in width, adorned with beautiful golden coloured engravings.
He stared at the locket for a moment, holding it up against the afternoon sunlight shining through the canopy of the woods, contrasting it with the environment. Gently caressing it with his right thumb, he pondered about something very deeply, very sincerely. It was as if the locket had some sentimental values to him.
“...Maybe sometime I’ll get you back to your proper owner. Until then, you’re in my care.”
He caressed the locket one last time before he placed it back inside his shirt.
“That darn battle has been going on for days now... good thing it's drawing to an end,” he murmured, fixating his gaze at the direction of the city of Leipzig, his tone mixed with both boredom and exhaustion.
He had already been in the woods for two days - he arrived at Leipzig during the heat of the battle. Most battles in this era lasted from a few hours and up to a little under a day. He had not expected it to last this long.
In any event, he seemed certain that the battle was almost over. The mortar shots and musket volleys that he had heard for the last days have dwindled and weakened.
Sitting idly by the tree without anything to do, he stared blankly at the ground, his head slowly going numb from inactivity.
“Aaaaahhhhh!!! Dammit, I’m so bored!” he fussed as he scratched his head in a furious wave of circles, messing up his hair.
All of it just because he was tired of waiting before he could move to Berlin and see someone that he had business with.
He had the option of walking back and looking for another route towards his destination, but he was just too lazy to try and instead ended up waiting for two whole days for the battle to end.
By this point, he must have been thinking that if he walked back and tried another route to Berlin he would already be there, enjoying a mug of beer.
He bit and chewed on the bread he was holding, until none of it was left in his hands. Stretching his arms and legs, he yawned his heart out, relaxed and made himself at home under the sturdy tree.
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on the tree and closing his eyes. He thought that sleeping would be the best thing he could do to wait for the battle to end completely.
He made such a peaceful and relaxed face in trying to sleep, it was as if all of his worries have been thrown out of the window and the only thing he cared about was the comfortable positioning of his head against the tree.
Such a comfortable position was not to last, though.
Before he could even sleep for five minutes, the sound of gunshots nearby awoke him.
One. Two. The sound of the shots seemed to become louder with the number of shots fired. Along with the sound, there were loud *tadud tadud tadud* sounds, Reinhard listened closely and the sound got louder and louder, clearer and clearer... until it became clear to him that the sound was the thundering hooves of horses.
Pop! Pop! Bang!
The sound of sporadic musket shots resounded in the distance once again.
What in the world was that, now?
He peeked around the tree he was resting against, using his rifle as a support. He saw figures in the distance, some of which were obscured by the trees and bushes of the woods, while the others were at clear sight and unmistakable.
Squinting his eyes, he focused on the figures ahead.
He saw figures in blue and white... all running about in a way that looked like a chaotic free-for-all, screaming and yelling in panicked voices.
“Run! Run!” the figures in blue yelled.
“Dammit, they’re on our tail!” screamed another in obvious fear.
Reinhard's pair of eyebrows almost met when he saw the figures run about mindlessly.
At first, he was a bit unsure of what was happening. It all happened so fast that he was left no choice but to be dumbstruck for a moment.
It was until he saw the source of the thundering sounds that it became as clear as day.
He never could have guessed that the horses were Russian Cavalry in pursuit of fleeing French Infantry!
“Get them!” the Russians shouted.
“Kill them! Kill them!” another cavalrymen yelled in bloodthirsty anger.
With heavy swords and glaring sabres being struck at the backs of the fleeing French soldiers, screams of agony and death filled the air.
The disorganized French were no match for the horsemen that were pursuing them. They were being cut down at will, with little to no chance of fighting back.
The blades swinging in the air with *whoosh* sounds pushed Reinhard out of his sleepy state, the terrifying sound of the weapon disconcerting even for the most brave of men.
Crap! I need to get out here NOW!
Reinhard knew that his napping haven was not the best place in the world to be in, right now. He picked up his rifle and ran to try and hide.
With all the chaos going on around him, he was careful to avoid getting into contact with either party as his identity could be easily mistaken, ending up in a not-so-enjoyable encounter.
Running from trees to trees, taking effective cover from them and using moments of openings when the Russians and the fleeing French could not see him, he moved along the forest trying to escape.
Where in the world did they come from?
His heart was beating so fast, the only thing in his mind was to get out of the woods alive.
He gripped his rifle tightly. Sweat poured down his forehead. His knees trembled.
Who wouldn't be intimidated by galloping steeds mounted by rough-faced mustachioed Russians filled with killing intent swinging their swords wildly in the air?
He felt even more at edge as he watched as Russian horsemen cut their share of the disarrayed French. The Russians showed no mercy and slew anyone that they see as the enemy, everyone simply hated whoever was on the other side.
The Napoleonic wars has been raging for over a decade now. Alliances and enemies have changed multiple times. Borders of nations had been drawn and redrawn. Atrocities were committed to each other by both sides. Obviously people will begin to hate whoever was beyond their borders.
Even so, Europe just seemed to particularly hate the French. Who could blame the coalition? Many of the members of the different coalitions have been defeated and humiliated by the Emperor Napoleon and his armies in the previous wars.
The only problem...? The coalitions were the ones that usually declared war on France, only for their armies to be routed and destroyed. In addition to that, Napoleon had a habit of ending the war by marching into the capital cities of the countries he had soundly defeated... of course, the consequences being everyone in the country hating Napoleon.
This seemed to have reached the last straw though, as the Russians released all their pent up rage and hate on the fleeing French right in front of them.
“Aaarrrghhh! Aaaaahhhhh!!!” the French soldiers screamed in terror as they desperately ran away from their pursuers all the while being cut down in the process.
Even with all of this chaos going on around him, Reinhard effectively evaded both the Russian cavalrymen and the French troops by moving from one tree to another... until his luck seemed to run out.
“Oh shit!!!!” Reinhard cursed in a concealed shout.
He was about to move towards another tree and take cover, but abruptly stopped in the middle of the way and took cover behind a huge hollow log that had fallen.
There was someone in front of him. He barely caught them by the corner of his eye.
Gulp. He swallowed and exhaled forcefully.
He looked around, trying to find somewhere he could hide; he was out in the open.
The only thing that stood between him and the threat was the fallen log.
Slowly, he moved his head up. He peeked nervously at what was on the other side of the log.
What stopped him was a Russian hussar. He was proudly sitting on his horse holding the reins with authority. His eyes were going from left to right, surveying the area for any signs of French infantry.
His stance was that of an aggressive horseman ready to charge at anything that would come into his field of vision. The scabbard which contained his sabre looked infinitely dangerous.
“Dammit!” Reinhard whispered to himself and crouched down as low as he can, making himself as small as possible to be able to hide from the eyes of the hussar.
“I don’t want to be mistaken as a Frenchman on so many levels,” he mumbled. The thought of being mistaken as French gave him the chills.
Tch! Looks like I got no other choice.
He crawled ever so slowly on all fours towards the end of the log, hoping he could get inside it to hide, to wait for all of this to pass. After all, the log was big enough to fit about three people.
“C’mon......... just a little more,” he mumbled to himself again and slowly moved his limbs one at a time.
Every little inch he moves towards the end of the log, the closer he gets to safety.
He was sure that when the afternoon sun began to set and the darkness took its place, the horsemen would leave and he would be safe.
“Now the hard part... I need to enter without being noticed.”
He was now on the end of the log; the only thing left to do now was to go inside... the problem was that he’d be exposed if he just suddenly jumped into the opening. He needed to distract the rider.
He picked up a rock the size of a fist from the ground. He was going to throw it and distract the horseman with the noise it would create, hopefully buying him enough time to enter the log.
This is the oldest trick in the book but I guess it will work.
He was about to throw the rock, but then, from out of nowhere, there came a loud crashing noise.The sound of the bushes shaking and rustling followed suit.
It sounded like something the size of a man fell and crashed into some bushes somewhere behind him.
It was a sound that almost made Reinhard’s heart skip a beat.
“W-W-What the hell was that?!” in shock, his trembling hands dropped the rock and he looked around to find the source of the sound.
Suddenly, he heard a disconcerting *kaching* sound. The sudden sharp sound sends chills down his spine.
Reinhard’s head instinctively cocked back into the direction of the unsettling sound.
Just from his instinct, Reinhard knew that the sound meant bad news. His eyes widened even more in shock as he saw what it was....
It was the Russian pulling out his gleaming sabre and then suddenly galloping towards Reinhard’s location.
The hussar had clearly heard the noise of the moving of bushes and the loud thud coming from Reinhard’s side of the hollow log.
With his sharp sabre in hand the hussar ordered his horse to charge. The horse began to advance forwards with reckless abandon.
“Aw shit, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Reinhard groaned and quickly tried to come up with ways to defend himself from the sudden attack.
I don’t have any cartridges left!
My rifle doesn’t have a bayonet. he noted, all the while giving a sarcastic smile at his rifle.
“Sometimes I just really hate you Musky,” he whispered to his weapon, talking to the rifle as if it was alive.
Time seemed to slow down for Reinhard - the movements of anything and everything around him seemed to stop, as he looked at the eyes of the Russian atop his mount.
“C’mon you Russian!!!!!” he yelled out at the Russian horseman and stood up, preparing himself for combat.
His hands held tighter on his rifle. He held it by two hands on the muzzle end much like a club. He gritted his teeth and his eyes sharpened its look as if the stare itself would be enough to kill the enemy.
He bent his knees a little, lowering his centre of gravity, in a stance that seemed like he would swing the rifle like a club or a bat at the incoming Russian.
Oh shit! Oh shit he’s really coming.
His hands held his rifle with such force he could hear his skin squeak as it rubbed against the wooden part of his weapon.
Reinhard prepared to stand his ground against a clearly advantaged foe.
Adrenaline gushed into his system and cold sweat slid down his forehead.
He planted his foot down to the ground hard, ready to battle.
Part 2
“Dammit, how long will these Russians chase us for?” Nathalie screamed in frustration, breathless from the elongated run from the enemy.
Through skill and a little luck, she somehow managed to fight her way through the enemies in the city. She found a shallow area of the river where she crossed without getting much of her equipment wet.
Along with several other French soldiers, she managed to reach a wooded area a few kilometres away from the city. It was an area where the advantages of the chasing Russian Cavalries was limited to some extent.
“H-Hey! Voltigeur, you are part of the young guard, right? ....Under Marshal Oudinot?" a French soldier asked Nathalie after noticing her outfit.
The blue uniform with the green epaulettes was clearly visible even from a distance. Along with her shako which was also adorned in yellow linings, the green and red coloured plume on top strongly implied that she was part of one of the regiments of voltigeurs of the Young Guard.
The voltigeurs were a body of soldiers that act as the elite skirmishers of the French Grande Armée. They were grouped together with other young soldiers in the imperial guard to form the Young Guard, its youngest members. They served alongside the Middle Guard and the feared personal units of the Emperor of France himself... the Old Guard.
However, the French soldier did not recognize that the voltigeur he was speaking to was a female due to the scarf wrapped around her which covered her face well.
“Yeah... do you know what happened back there? Did Marshal Oudinot make it out?" Nathalie replied to the soldier as they continued to run as far away from the city as possible.
“I don’t know what in the world happened to the bridge, but I’m sure the marshal made it out. The same goes for the majority of the Young Guard... but why were you left here?" the French soldier asked.
“I got separated from the rest of my regiment along with a few others during an intense attack from the Russians in Oudinot’s sector,” she replied. “I joined the rear guard to try and hold off the enemy while the main body retreated. I didn’t think I’d end up here.”
Just as she finished her reply, a bright line blurred past her face. The French soldier she was talking to mere seconds earlier was now lying on the ground - either dead or dying from sustaining a long cut through his back.
“What the....?!” Nathalie’s eyes were filled with shock.
She looked up and saw a threatening sight.
A hussar stood in front of her. The white shiny line that passed near Nathalie’s face moments ago was the sabre the hussar was wielding. It was now coated with thick, crimson liquid.
He sat on his horse as he looked down upon the voltigeur. He raised the sabre above his head before swinging it at her.
“Oh... for the love of...!”
Nathalie jumped to one side. She evaded a deadly blow as the Russian hussar swung the sabre at her trying cut her head off with one clean strike to the neck.
She could clearly hear the sabre produce an unnerving *whoosh* sound as it cut through the air, missing her by inches.
“Die, you French pig!” the Russian roared, swinging his sabre violently once again, trying to land a decisive strike on Nathalie.
Being on top of a horse, his advantage was overwhelming in a melee combat. He could easily wound Nathalie with the sabre, but she could barely reach the rider because of the height disadvantage.
Another factor was also her own short stature. The Russian hussar could also order his horse to move wherever he pleases, making him more mobile than a lone infantryman. These detrimental factors forced Nathalie to be on the defensive.
“...Ugh!” blocking and evading the repeated attacks of the horseman left Nathalie with no time to shoot the Russian with her smoothbore musket.
Turning her back now and running away to escape was out of question. Doing so will only leave her open to be hacked down.
The only choice she had left to escape was to stab the Russian with her musket’s bayonet.
She waited for the perfect angle for a decisive blow against the enemy. One wrong move from the hussar that would reduce his height advantage. A move that will leave him vulnerable for a counterattack.
“Come on!”
Nathalie jumped a few paces back to draw an attack that would leave the Russian to stoop down in order to attack, allowing her to reach him with the bayonet.
The Russian bit the bait. He swung his sabre and leaned down as he tried to reach Nathalie with it. With a quick flick of her musket, Nathalie parried the sword aside before she continued to thrust it into her foe's chest.
“...Aaaaaaargh!” the Russian hussar fell to the ground and his horse ran away. The bayonet was impaled deep into his chest.
Nathalie, somewhat astounded by her success, was left breathless from the battle.
I can’t afford to get into a scrap like that again. she thought.
She adjusted her shako and wiped the sweat on her forehead before proceeding to run deeper into the woods with the other French troops. The enemy cavalries were relentless despite the trees that slowed them down.
“Damn, here they come again!” a Frenchman once again yelled to his comrades, pointing at the incoming Russians. Another squadron of cavalrymen was headed straight for them.
Some of the soldiers in the ragtag group fired their muskets, trying to shoot down the riders or the horses. Others ran as fast as they can, trying to shake off their pursuers or at least finding a safe hiding place to shelter them from the attack.
“It’s every man for himself!” some of the French soldiers yelled as they ran away. They abandoned their weapons and other equipment to reduce the weight that they were carrying in a desperate bid to escape from the carnage.
However, the Russian hussars managed to close the distance and the wholesale butchery of the fleeing French soldiers continued even though they were several kilometres away from the city.
“Damn, these Russians never know when the hell to quit!”
Nathalie became extremely frustrated at the stubbornness of the Russian pursuers.
There were just too many Russian horsemen in the area. Nathalie ran and hid behind the trees, trying to make her way into a safe area to find a way to escape from them.
She knew she wouldn't last a minute if she got caught in a fight with that many horsemen.
She looked at all directions. The only things that she could see was the Russians chasing and cutting down her fellow French soldiers as they fled in panic.
Knowing that it was pointless to run away from the horses' speed, she looked around and surveyed the area quickly. She was looking for anywhere to hide in. Anywhere.
Just then, she saw movements by the corner of her eye.
She cocked her head to her left to confirm that what she saw wasn’t only her imagination. It wasn't.
At first glance, she couldn't move. She just stared at that direction, awestruck at what she saw.
There were two horsemen.
Russian horsemen.
With their sabres drawn.
Coming right at her.
“Dammit! Dammit!” she screamed out in irritation, turning around and running away from the pursuers.
She had extreme difficulty dealing with just a single rider. There was no way she’d survive fighting two at the same time while she was alone.
“You have got to be kidding me!” she grumbled, voicing out her frustration.
“You’ll be dead in a matter seconds after I cut your head off! So you better make it easy for the both of us and stop running so I can swing my sword at you!” the Russian yelled at her, taunting the voltigeur with his cocky words.
She did not even dare to look back. All it took was one mistake. One error, and it would all be over.
Nathalie continued to run away as fast as she can. But she knew herself that a man can never outrun a horse. Despite her effort in trying to escape, the horsemen only got closer and closer.
The distance between Nathalie and the two Russians was quickly shrinking. It would just be a matter of time before she was slashed by the sharp Russian steel.
“Hahaha! There is no hope now! This is where you will fall!” one of the Russian horsemen yelled again, his sabre raised high.
Need... to...... find a way... out!
Even though all hope seemed to be lost, she still continued running. She was not the type of person to easily gives up.
It was then that her foot suddenly slipped on a rock on a steep slope. She started to fall and tumble out of control, hitting trees and bushes and rocks on the way down to the bottom of what seemed to be a small ravine.
“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
She screamed, curling up into a little ball in instict. She placed her arms over her face and head, trying to shield her vulnerable head from the violent descent.
She could not even see where she was falling; she just closed her eyes and hoped for the best.
Her body bounced around like a ragdoll, seemingly lifeless as it finally met contact with a strong loud thud when she landed on a big bush.
It was almost like it was all planned; she just fell and disappeared from view.
The two Russians saw her fall and tumble, but they could not see her in the bottom.
“No one would survive that kind of fall," one of her pursuers said to his fellow horseman after examining the area where he thought the voltigeur could have landed.
“Yeah, you’ll be lucky as hell if you got only a few broken bones from that!” the other Russian replied in agreement.
Convinced that their enemy was done for, the Russians left the area, not even doubling back to look at the site once again.
They were so sure that fall and the impact on her body was enough to kill her that they never bothered checking.
However, at the bottom of the ravine, amongst the twigs and fallen branches, Nathalie slowly crawled out of the bushes.
No matter how little the probabilities are, she survived the fall without any major injuries. All she got were a few scratches here and there and a really dirty appearance from being covered with leaves and dirt from the fall.
“Ow! Ow, my butt, my butt! That hurt.”
Nathalie held her bottom in pain and got up from what looked like a pretty serious fall. She survived the accident because she had fallen on a large bush which cushioned her fall well enough that she didn’t suffer any serious wound.
“Looks like I finally got away from those bastards,” she brushed the dirt away from her body.
Nathalie looked around to check if she really was safe. She walked out of the bush where she fell and looked up.
She felt her heart sank.
Oh! For the love of....! Give me a break!
To her dismay, there was a lone Russian hussar standing about fifty yards away from her. Another Russian eager to cut a French soldier in two.
Just how many of these bastards are here chasing us anyway?! Nathalie thought after she realized that there seemed to be no end to the number of Russian hussars.
The enemy caught sight of her and unsheathed his sabre. With a cocky and confident smirk on his face, the Russian began charging straight into her at almost a full gallop.
“Shit! Seriously?!”
Without her even thinking, her body reacted based on muscle memory. As the threat approached her, she quickly placed her musket on her shoulder and cocked the flint mechanism of the musket.
She was totally guessing where the musket ball will land if she shoots now. She had to wait for the Russian to come closer - if she pulled the trigger too early, she’d probably miss considering it was a moving target.. She aligned her eyes with the musket’s barrel.
The muskets issued to soldiers did not have sights... they never needed them as soldiers in this kind of warfare relied on mass volleys of disciplined musket fire and not on individual shots to defeat the enemy. This was because muskets were not that accurate past 100 yards. However, they compensated this inaccuracy by forming lines and firing in unison in order to shoot out the maximum firepower they could dish out for the shortest amount of time possible.
But Nathalie was no regular infantryman, she was a voltigeur... an elite. The best shots anyone could find in the entirety of the French Grande Armée.
She readied her weapon, taking aim. Eyes focused on the straight barrel of her musket, she carefully lined it up with her target.
Just a little closer... a little more... a little more...
Allowing the enemy to move closer will increase her chances of hitting. She let the horseman charge towards her closer. She only has one shot... one chance to do this.
Nathalie knew that missing meant death. She took her time aiming, letting the horseman fill her field of vision.
Her finger was ready to pull the trigger; she was already squeezing and applying slight pressure on it when suddenly a black figure appeared in her line of fire.
“W-What in the...?!” Nathalie blurted when she saw the figure that blocked her shot at the Russian.
W-Where did....? Where in the world did he come from?!
She haltingly looked at the figure that suddenly popped out from nowhere. Needless to say, she was extremely annoyed by the sudden appearance of what she thought was another threat.
It was Reinhard. The abruptness of the charge of the Russian hussar took him completely by surprise that he did not even notice the voltigeur. He thought he was the one being charged at. In reality, it was Nathalie that was only a few paces behind him that was the actual target.
Who do I shoot?! Who do I shoot?! confused and shocked by the sudden appearance of the Prussian hunter ahead of her, Nathalie faced the dilemma of who’s the one she needed to deal with first.
Her eyes quickly went to and fro between the charging Russian and the Prussian who suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
“This day just keeps on getting more stupid!” the voltigeur shouted out, then stepped a few feet to the side to get Reinhard out of her line of fire.
She deemed that the greater threat as of now was the Russian. She will just deal with the mysterious black figure later.
Nathalie adjusted her aim as quickly as she can and shot at the horseman, missing Reinhard by mere inches.
“Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” she screamed as she pulled the trigger, letting out accumulated frustration and anger along with the shot.
The Russian went down with a loud thud and his horse shook its head before it ran away. Reinhard turned, noticing the French soldier.
Part 3
Part 3
As the smoke from the musket's shot diminished in the air, Reinhard saw Nathalie's covered face through the cloud of smoke. Still in her shooting stance, Nathalie glared at Reinhard with a confused expression, as if she was pondering whether he was or was not a threat.
This guy is probably the one that shot the Russian.
As this thought went through Reinhard’s head, he saw the French soldier looking straight at him with inscrutable sapphire eyes.
Oh man! H-H-He’s staring at me! What the hell is he thinking?
Reinhard thought, panic and bewilderment replacing his otherwise aloof emotion.
He noticed that Nathalie’s gaze suddenly shifted from his eyes and down to the rifle he was holding. The cryptic pair of eyes focused on the rifle intently, as if absorbing the image of it by staring at it.
Reinhard could almost hear his own heartbeat with every second that passed.
Before long, Nathalie’s gaze shifted back into Reinhard's eyes and a moment of fear and uncertainty left the two completely motionless.
He surely thinks that I’m an enemy. Dammit Musky, I really hate your uselessness right now. Reinhard thought while desperately thinking of a way to communicate with the French soldier and try to persuade him that he was not an enemy nor a threat.
“W-W-Wait, good sir... I am... I am not...” before he can finish his explanation, Nathalie came charging at him at an alarming speed.
Reinhard's eyes widened upon seeing the tip of the bayonet heading straight for his face.
With threatening intensity, Nathalie thrust the bayonet at Reinhard in an attempt to kill him.
Man, this guy is quick!
Reinhard evaded the sharp tip of the blade with little inches to spare by ducking. He felt the air move as the musket thrust past over his head. The bayonet was so close that he could see the sharp point very clearly.
This soldier wasn't just some pushover that would back down - Reinhard needed to do something... and fast.
“Oh no you don’t!!!!” Nathalie swiftly changed the trajectory of her musket from horizontal into vertical, attempting to bash Reinhard’s skull with the butt end of her weapon. Reinhard easily jumped out of the way, staying clear out of the weapon’s path.
Damn, I can’t hit this guy! He’s too agile!
Nathalie thought in dissatisfaction. She was about to perform another attack but stopped when she felt a strong tugging on her weapon.
Reinhard threw his Musky to the ground, then grabbed Nathalie's musket with both his hands and pulled the weapon towards him - pulling Nathalie along with it. He bashed her with his shoulder, ripping the musket away from her hands. She fell to the ground with an audible thud.
He has such a weak grip on his weapon, just what kind of a soldier is this?
Reinhard asked himself as he wondered about the unexpected weak strength of the soldier. The puzzled Reinhard threw the musket away and took a closer look at the soldier clad in blue and white.
He was utterly surprised when he saw Nathalie wielding his rifle that he named “Musky”. His own rifle was pointed straight at him, ready to be fired at any moment.
“I already told you that I’m not the enemy,” he said to Nathalie, still trying to persuade her. “And you! Are you really gonna shoot me? Musky, why?!” he added, waving and moving his hands as if trying to court a lady.
“You’re talking to your weapon, weirdo? Seriously?!! It’s really getting on my nerves.”
Nathalie scowled at Reinhard with a clearly irritated voice. The annoyed Frenchwoman then cocked the gun and pointed the muzzle at Reinhard’s crotch.
“...”
Reinhard was silenced by where the French soldier aimed his rifle.
“What are you doing?” he asked, wondering of the intentions of the blue clad soldier.
“...”
Nathalie didn’t even reply. She pulled the trigger and the rifle’s flint produced sparks but there was no familiar sound of a musket's shot. Nathalie’s eyes widened in surprise when the rifle did not fire.
“Shit! It’s not loaded?!” Nathalie's jaw dropped in shock.
“Ahem! What are you doing?” Reinhard asked her again, resting his hands on his waist.
“Tch! I thought I could have blown your balls away,” Nathalie grumbled with clear disappointment.
“W-what did you say...?!” Reinhard nonchalantly walked behind Nathalie. He wrapped his arm around her neck and placed the voltigeur in a playful chokehold. “Dammit! Trying to use my own gun to blow my balls away?! How evil of you!”
Reinhard applied pressure down on her neck. Nathalie tapped out as fast as she possibly can before her face turned even more blue from the lack of oxygen.
He’s way too small.
Only then Reinhard was able to examine the soldier in detail. He was baffled by the weakness of the soldier’s grip on the musket. Even now, he wondered about the body build that was very thin and small for the average soldier. Another thing he noticed was the the soldier seemed to be very soft and very warm.
Wait a minute... is he...??
However, before he could come to a conclusion, he suddenly heard the nightmarish sound of a horse galloping again. “This way, it was this way!” the voices came from the same direction of the heavy stomping of the horses.
Reinhard stopped his chokehold and covered the mouth of Nathalie with his left hand and across her chest with his right. He pulled himself and the soldier he was holding into the big hollow log.
He felt something weird in his hand. It seemed that something filled the grip of his right hand.
What the hell?
However, he could not focus on at the moment. There are Russians outside and they weren't exactly the most friendly chaps right now, especially now that they saw a comrade of theirs lying lifelessly on the ground.
He overheard the Russians after they found the dead body. From the sound alone coming from the Russian cavalrymen, he knew that they were a few feet away from him at most. Uncalled noises simply wasn't an option.
Reinhard brought his lips closer to the ear of the mysterious French soldier in his arms.
“Hush. Stay quiet, they must not know we’re here,” Reinhard whispered with an anxious voice, trying to keep both of them hidden from the Russians. “I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth. Don’t make a sound, alright?”
She answered with a gentle nod. Following suit, Reinhard removed his hand.
“What in the world do you think you’re holding right now?!” Nathalie quickly denounced as soon as Reinhard let go of her mouth.
Nathalie looked over her shoulder at Reinhard, her soft but noticeably annoyed voice muffled a little by the scarf covering her place.
“W-W-What are you talking about?” the confused Reinhard asked.
“Y-You are groping my breast, you damn pervert!” she fretted, and Reinhard soon noticed that the little face of her that was exposed was glowing red.
Reinhard's face also showed a faint sign of blushing when Nathalie revealed that she was a woman. All this time, he was thinking that the soldier he was with was a “he”.
Wha... What the....?! So that was the soft thing that I felt in my hand?!
“Y-You mean what I’m holding isn’t a bag of loot inside your uniform?” the flustered Reinhard replied. Cold sweat dropped from his forehead and his jaw trembled from the awkwardness of the situation.
“WHAT?!” she angrily shouted out loud. “You mistook a woman’s breast for a bag of loot?!”
The sudden outbursts of Nathalie caused Reinhard to panic, who quickly covered Nathalie's mouth again to keep her quiet, while his right hand, maybe due to the astonishment, squeezed her breast tighter as he pulled her closer into him.
Nathalie’s face turned bright red from the sudden pressure applied to her chest.
“Eeeeep!” the muffled scream of a woman being restrained echoed inside the log.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry but please keep quiet for a moment,” Reinhard said after hearing the embarrassed scream of the woman, he was in such a panic that he had no clue of what he was doing.
One of the Russians, who was only a few feet away, heard the muffled screams but wasn't sure where the source of the sound was.
“Did you hear something?” he asked, signaling the other Russians to quiet down.
“No, what did you hear?” another replied.
“Some sort of scream from somewhere, about boobs and loot,” the first Russian said as he looked around.
“You’re a damn pervert as always, you make me sick!” a third one remarked with disgusted eyes.
“Let’s just get out of here; we need to get back before it turns dark,” a fourth one uttered upon noticing the slowly dimming sky.
With this, they picked up the dead body of their fellow soldier as he was an officer, and started to go back towards the direction of the city.
Reinhard and Nathalie stayed immobile inside the log for a couple of moments. They listened for any signs that the enemy might still be in the vicinity. They just wanted to be sure that the Russians have left for good and that they were safe.
“Alright, it looks like we’re in the clear,” Reinhard said in relief after a few minutes after the Russians' departure.
Reinhard released Nathalie from his clutch and crawled out of the log. He slowly stood up, scratching his head, wondering and trying to understand what had just happened.
“Damn you,” Nathalie grumbled at Reinhard with eyes that were filled with both anger and embarrassment. She clenched her fist with the intent to knock him out.
Chills went through Reinhard’s spine when he heard the threatening voice. Feeling a dark, deadly and ominous aura rising from behind him filled his heart with fear. His hands shook and his knees trembled. His feet started to get cold.
W-What... should I do? He thought, genuinely fearful of the woman.
He gulped nervously and turned around, ready to apologize, and even beg forgiveness for his sins to the woman. He had his hands raised at his chest level, trying to tell the woman that he was very sincerely apologetic for what happened.
“I’m sor...."
He wasn't able to finish his sentence.
The moment he spun around to face Nathalie, a vigorous punch greeted his face. The punch, filled with the power and strength of an embarrassed and enraged woman, made contact with such ferocity that it sent Reinhard flying back a few feet.
Landing on his back with a thud, he really thought that he was going to die.
“Aaaaaargh!” he shouted in pain and tried to get up, only to end up falling back onto his knees. Holding his face in pain, he looked at Nathalie through the gaps of his fingers, who was burning in anger.
“What the hell did you think, suddenly grabbing me right there?!”
Nathalie inquired with her arms crossed in discontent,throwing daggers at Reinhard.
“To top that off, you... you... you mistook it for... a bag of loot?!” she continued as she blushes, stomping Reinhard over and over again, releasing her rage on the hapless Prussian. “What? Is it so hard that it felt like a bag of coins in your hands?”
“Ow! Ow! Ow! Forgive me... forgive me...” Reinhard said, pleading for his life and trying his best to shield himself from the relentless onslaught of stomping.
“Gyyyaaaaaaa!!!!!!” Nathalie yelled in answer and continued to stomp relentlessly. She released all her emotions into the devastating blows that she delivered to the Prussian.
Releasing such rage and embarrassment left Nathalie exhausted, her heavy breathing clearly audible despite being covered by a scarf. Her face was red like a tomato at this point.
“Who are you, anyway?” she asked and stops stomping, readjusting his shako and trying to calm herself down.
Reinhard, still on the ground, slowly lifted his head to face her. He tilted his head to one side and winked at the woman.
“Before asking the name of someone else, shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?” he replied in a somewhat mocking tone, smiling at the woman.
Ticked off by the response, Nathalie lifted her foot again, exhibiting the frightening sole of her boot at Reinhard, threatening to stomp him again.
“Just answer my question already ,darn it!” she shouted with a threatening voice.
“Okay, okay! Chill down, miss.” Reinhard frantically waved his hands in surrender, fearful of the painful blows from the Frenchwoman that stood before him. “But could you please put down your foot? It’s kind of hard to answer while seeing the soles of your boot from this angle.”
“...”
“...”
The two of them just stared at each other.
“Fair enough,” Nathalie responded, lowering her foot.
Standing up, Reinhard dusted himself and proceeded to introduce himself, “I’m Reinhard Jaeger, a hunter. I just wanted to hunt some food and rest when you people suddenly came here, running with horse guys chasing you.”
“I just asked for your name, yet you already spew out a lot of crap,” Nathalie replied, clearly unimpressed.
Reinhard’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the soldier’s response.
“Well, it’s not like it’s very common for a woman to be an actual soldier on the battlefield. I didn’t actually expect that you’re a girl until...” he stopped before finishing his sentence, knowing that she would start to abuse him again if reminded of what happened inside the log.
“Um, well, now that you know me, I think it would just be right if you introduce yourself too, right?” Reinhard said as he picks up his rifle “Musky” from the ground. When he stood up, he saw the woman looking for her musket, not even listening to what he has said.
“Oi! You could try to listen to people from time to time, you know?” he said.
“Me?” she responded, picking up her musket from the ground.
“Who else would I be talking to?” Reinhard replied.
“Right.... there....” Nathalie responded and pointed her finger at Musky, making fun of Reinhard’s weird habit of talking and communicating with his rifle.
“...”
It’s amazing how easily this woman can piss me off, he thought.
Nathalie checked her musket, making sure that its mechanisms are undamaged. Without loading the weapon, she cocked the musket and pulled the trigger. The hammer struck forward, confirming that her weapon was functional.
“Nathalie,” she said with a soft and very feminine voice.
“P-Pardon me....???” Reinhard said, failing to pick up Nathalie's barely audible voice.
Nathalie removed the scarf on her face and the shako on her head, revealing her long blond hair that slowly fell down almost to her hips, just beside her scabbard where a short sabre was hanging. The yellow collar, the primary distinction of the voltigeurs, was very beautifully wrapped around her slender neck. The French blue coat with its intricate designs harmoniously blended in well with the colour of her hair.
The afternoon sunlight slowly setting behind her, hidden by the woods produced a scene that mesmerized the hunter. Her sapphire eyes looked at Reinhard. The mysterious pair of eyes moved him as if it was piercing his soul from within.
“....Nathalie ........My name is Nathalie Toussaint,” she said as she gently brushes her beautiful long blond hair behind her ear, repeating her name for him.
“........Nathalie... Toussaint...,” Reinhard whispered to himself.
He smiled warmly at Nathalie, "Well then... It's a pleasure to meet you!"
There's the first chapter. I'll post the remaining two a little later. Any tips or feedback is appreciated. Thank you so much for reading!
Made some editing and some other corrections.
