I Reincarnated as a Prince Who Revolutionized the Kingdom

June 14th, 1693 – Fort Rochevelle

The fort had been transformed into a hub of royalist activity. Engineers worked day and night to repair damaged walls and reinforce key defensive positions. Fresh supplies flowed in from nearby towns, and new recruits joined Bruno's ranks by the hundreds.

In the fort's command chamber, Bruno met with his senior officers. General Berthold unrolled a large map of the region on the table.

"Fort Serrant lies forty miles to the southeast," Berthold said, tracing a route with his finger. "It's the next logical target. However, scouts report an increased Republican presence in the surrounding area. It seems they're finally reinforcing their defenses."

"Reinforcements, or something more?" Antoine Leclerc asked. "There's been talk of a high-ranking general leading the effort."

Captain Vallier crossed his arms. "It's possible. The Republic wouldn't sit idle after losing two major forts. They know Bruno's campaign is gaining momentum."

Bruno nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "They're preparing to counterattack. If we keep pushing without a solid plan, we risk overextending ourselves."

"What do you suggest, Your Highness?" Berthold asked.

Bruno leaned over the map, pointing to key locations along the trade routes. "We'll disrupt their supply lines first. Cut off their access to reinforcements and resources. Without support, their garrisons will weaken. Meanwhile, we'll build stronger alliances with the surrounding towns and strengthen our defensive network."

"Sabotage and attrition," Leclerc muttered approvingly. "It'll force them to act on our terms."

Bruno straightened, his expression resolute. "Exactly. If they want a decisive battle, it'll happen on ground of our choosing."

June 16th, 1693 – En Route to Fort Serrant

General Lucien Marceau's column marched steadily along a narrow dirt road, banners fluttering in the warm breeze. Thousands of disciplined Republican soldiers followed in perfect formation—infantry, cavalry, and artillery units. Marceau himself rode at the front, his sharp gaze fixed on the horizon.

A courier approached, saluting sharply. "General Marceau, a report from Fort Serrant. They've spotted royalist scouts near the eastern perimeter."

"I don't care about that. Tell me more about the royalists' weapons. They were the ones deciding the battle."

The courier adjusted his stance nervously under General Marceau's piercing gaze. "General, the reports indicate that the royalists have advanced weaponry. Their muskets can fire with greater range and accuracy than ours. Many of our soldiers were struck down before they could even get into effective musket range."

Marceau narrowed his eyes. "How much greater a range?"

"Twice as far, perhaps more," the courier replied. "And they fire faster, almost as if they've improved the reloading process."

"Improved reloading process?" Marceau muttered under his breath and continued. "And what of their artillery?"

The courier hesitated for a moment, then continued. "It's unlike anything we've encountered before. According to the witness, the royalists' cannons fire from beyond their sight. Explosive shells rain down on their positions, shattering walls and disorienting their troops. By the time their men locate the source of fire, it's too late. Their artillery crews are precise—they cripple their defenses in minutes."

Marceau clenched the reins of his horse, deep in thought. "So, this is how they've been winning every engagement. It isn't just tactics—it's technology. Somehow, Prince Bruno has gained access to superior weaponry."

"General, what are your orders?" the courier asked.

Marceau exhaled slowly, formulating a response. "We need more information. If they have this advantage, it's a miracle they haven't already reached the capital. Something is slowing them down—perhaps logistics or inexperience in deploying these weapons on a larger scale."

He turned to his officers. "Send scouts to infiltrate the royalist ranks. I want to know everything about these weapons. How they function, where they're produced, and who's in charge of maintaining them. Knowledge is our greatest weapon right now."

"Yes, General," the officers replied, saluting sharply.

Marceau continued. "Until then, we adapt. If their artillery outranges us, we use mobility and deception to avoid prolonged bombardments. If their infantry has superior rifles, we close the distance quickly. Terrain will be key—we'll force them into choke points where range matters less."

One of Marceau's lieutenants stepped forward. "General, if I may… if they have such advanced equipment, how can we hope to overpower them without equal firepower?"

Marceau's expression hardened. "Wars aren't won by weapons alone. Discipline, strategy, and the will to fight can turn the tide of any battle. Remember that. Our enemy may be strong, but they are not invincible."

June 18th, 1693 – Fort Rochevelle.

Meanwhile, Prince Bruno received reports from his scouts detailing the movements of the republican army. Bruno studied the maps, noting the efficient formations and supply lines. It was clear that this general was different from the others he had faced.

"Marceau…" Bruno murmured. "He's disciplined, methodical. This isn't someone who'll be easily intimidated by our victories."

"General Marceau is a veteran," Leclerc said. "He's been leading campaigns against the enemies of the Kingdom of Elysea and was feared one in the continent."

Captain Vallier crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "Which is why it doesn't add up. Marceau fought against Elysea's enemies for years and earned respect across the continent. Why would he join the Republic?"

"Desperation, perhaps," Leclerc suggested. "The Revolution may have offered him something he couldn't refuse. Power, influence, or perhaps a cause he now believes in."

Bruno shook his head. "It doesn't matter why he's here. What matters is that he's dangerous. Marceau will adapt quickly to our tactics. He won't underestimate us like the others."

General Berthold stepped forward. "Do you think he knows about our weapons?"

"He's learning," Bruno replied. "His scouts are likely gathering information as we speak. But they won't have the full picture—not yet."

Leclerc nodded. "Still, we should assume that Marceau will be cautious moving forward. He'll try to mitigate the advantage our weapons give us."

Bruno straightened and looked at his gathered officers. "Then we must evolve faster than he does. We can't afford to remain predictable. From now on, we need to vary our strategies in each engagement. Hit-and-run tactics, ambushes, misdirection—whatever keeps him off balance."

Berthold grunted in agreement. "He'll be expecting us to push directly for Fort Serrant. What if we bait him?"

Bruno's eyes gleamed with interest. "Go on."

"We make it appear that we're massing for a large assault on the fort," Berthold continued. "Meanwhile, we launch a surprise attack on their supply lines. If we cut off his access to ammunition and rations, his army will be forced to withdraw."

"Good," Bruno said, tapping the map. "We'll need speed and coordination. Vallier, I want your cavalry to spearhead the attack on the supply routes. Berthold will hold position near Fort Serrant with a smaller force to create the illusion of a siege. I'll lead a separate detachment to disrupt their communication lines."

"Understood, Your Highness," Vallier replied with a firm salute.

"Let's move quickly," Bruno added. "We only have a short window before Marceau's reinforcements fully entrench themselves."

General Marceau's scouts returned to his camp with urgent reports. One of the men dismounted his horse and approached the general, saluting sharply.

"General Marceau, the royalists are massing troops near Fort Serrant. They've begun constructing siege positions and trenches to the west."

Marceau frowned, his instincts warning him of a possible deception. "They're committing to a siege? That's not like Bruno. He's been using mobility and surprise to win his battles. Why change tactics now?"

"Perhaps he believes the fort is too heavily defended," one of Marceau's lieutenants offered. "He might be preparing for a long-term engagement."

"Or he's trying to distract us," Marceau said quietly. He walked over to the large map of the region spread across a table. His finger traced the trade routes and supply depots surrounding the fort.

"He's playing a deeper game. If I were in his position, I'd go after our supplies while keeping us focused on a false threat. We can't let him control the flow of battle."

Marceau turned to his officers. "Double the patrols on the supply lines. Increase security at the depots. We'll maintain the illusion that we're fully focused on the fort, but I want every move the royalists make monitored closely. If Bruno wants a game of deception, we'll give him one."