Chapter 87: War Written as ‘Reclamation’, Read as ‘Destruction’ 1

“This… What is the meaning of this?”

Lord Alva of Paderborn stared aghast at the so-called ‘letter’ before him, a sense of dread gripping him.

Its four corners singed, the crimson script appeared written in blood.

Bearing the Braun lord’s red seal, it contained a mere four words:

Feuert! Feuer! Blut! Blut!

(Fire! Fire! Blood! Blood!)

Had this been a simple missive, he might have dismissed it as a madman’s prank, prompting mere raised eyebrows.

However, the Braun lord’s seal, coupled with the 5,000 troops now encamped outside their city walls, made it impossible to disregard as an idle threat.

Though that 5,000-strong force could scarcely be called a proper army – a motley assortment of ruffians, bandits, and vagabonds united solely by their numbers.

Lacking uniform attire or standardized weaponry, wielding axes, knives, and all manner of implements.

Yet their sheer numbers commanded attention, and in a sense, such a ragtag militia posed an even greater danger – a lawless 5,000-strong band liable to devolve into mere brigands or rioters at any moment.

Should they descend upon this city, the consequences would undoubtedly prove catastrophic – a scenario too horrific to envision.

In this light, Lord Alva readily grasped the letter’s implicit meaning:

‘A warning – surrender unconditionally, or they will reduce this city to ruins…’

While combat remained an option, the city could only muster a paltry 1,000 men at present.

Any attempt to gather further forces would likely prompt their preemptive attack.

Ultimately, Lord Alva recognized his lack of viable recourse and dispatched an envoy to the Braun camp, requesting negotiations.

Offering 5,000 talers for their peaceful withdrawal, the Braun forces accepted, calmly departing southeast after extracting their ‘fee’.

Though unexpectedly extorted, Lord Alva suppressed his outrage, resigned to counting his blessings that the situation had ended there.

Provoking their ire could have invited far greater calamity.

And before long, Alva would realize the prudence of his choice, heaving a deep sigh of relief.

The once-tranquil town of Lippstadt, nestled amidst verdant plains whose fertile agriculture had brought considerable prosperity…

Now engulfed in the screams of its citizens and the brays of slaughtered livestock.

“Aaaargh!”

“Fire! The warehouses are burning!”

“Sa…Save us! Please! Do whatever you want with me, but spare… Spare my child!”

“Guuuurgh!”

Harrowing cries and blazing structures now overwhelmed this once-idyllic locale.

Soldiers swarmed like ants devouring a cream puff – pillaging, burning, and butchering the populace without mercy.

“Feuert! Feuer! Blut! Blut!”

Chanting their ‘battle cry’, they transformed the entire town into a living hell.

And observing this tragedy, its instigator – the deranged commander Christiane Braun – erupted in rapturous glee:

“Ahahahaha!! Slaughter them all! Take everything for yourselves! Kill the people and plunder their possessions! Those who spurn our merciful divine mandate shall serve as an example!”

Invoking God’s name while ruthlessly massacring the innocent, Christiane and her soldiers wreaked brutal vengeance upon those who refused to pay their demanded ‘funds for God’s army’.

Scenes of arson and slaughter unfolded throughout:

Youths decapitated by soldiers.

The elderly impaled amidst agonized shrieks.

Mothers clutching infants hacked to pieces by axes.

Surviving children flung into the flames, their wails soon falling silent.

Thus, having erased an entire town from the map…

This madwoman named Christiane gazed upon the spoils and provisions reaped from her ‘holy war’, her features contorting into an expression of rapturous bliss.

“Truly, the sweet nectar of victory cannot be denied. Ah… Soon, I shall indulge in these honeyed fruits without restraint…”

Her excited words accompanied their resumed southeast march, newly-recruited soldiers swelling her ranks.

“Having demonstrated such ‘goodwill’, no lord shall dare spurn our overtures further. Huhu. Let us proceed, extracting ‘donations’ while conscripting fresh troops along the way.”

By reducing Lippstadt to ashes, Christiane had issued a tangible warning beyond mere threats.

As she anticipated, lords who had previously rejected Bohemia’s stringent terms now quaked in terror upon receiving her ‘missives’ – even if her forces had yet to arrive.

These were lords who, possessing moderate military strength and wealth, had forsaken the heretical alliance due to personal objections or trivial circumstances.

Now, they recognized Bohemia’s earlier harsh demands as a merciful overture, meekly dispatching ‘holy war funds’ and conscripts without protest.

Thus, through her relentless campaign of merciless butchery and plunder against any who defied her ‘goodwill’, Christiane’s infamy began spreading across the continent.

Once a mere petty ruler, she had become renowned as a deranged fiend who slaughtered and immolated any obstructing her path – be they of the Church or fellow heretics.

Her madness earning her the moniker:

The Madwoman of Halberstadt.

Having profited greatly through extorting the lords, Christiane continued her march leading a force now swelled to 10,000 – laden with vast treasures of gold, silver, and jewels.

‘Just a bit further, and Dortmund Castle will come into view. Beyond that lies the Palatinate’s domain… I shall soon encounter that man.’

Though she had amassed considerable might, Christiane recognized her forces still lacked the strength to directly challenge Bohemia’s heretical alliance or the ever-watchful Spinola.

While raiding petty lords had allowed her to accumulate power, confronting such formidable foes remained impossible with her current army alone.

To escalate further, she required that man’s strength…

Mansfelt’s might.

Mansfelt and his troops were currently converging to join her vanguard…

With Spinola’s massive army giving chase.

Time was of the essence.

“Then let us hasten our advance – to swiftly ‘liberate’ the Palatinate from the wicked Church’s clutches.”

“…This bodes ill… A truly dire situation…”

The vague silhouette of Mansfelt’s forces emerging into view prompted General Spinola, Supreme Commander of the Holy Empire’s Essvan Army, to furrow his brow in consternation.

Initially, he had merely intended to monitor Mansfelt, with no plans for direct engagement.

However, witnessing Christiane’s trail of wanton destruction and plunder en route had thoroughly convinced Spinola of the situation’s grave severity.

Mansfelt’s advance, inevitably culminating in his convergence with Christiane…

Though her forces alone seemed unimpressive, this ‘Madwoman’ was rapidly expanding her power through extreme pillaging and conscription.

Should Christiane’s troops merge with Mansfelt’s formidable might, they would become the paramount military force within the Palatinate region – a threat even Spinola could not ignore.

‘Once they become the apex predators, their subsequent actions are all too predictable. To counter this, I must hasten my junction with reinforcements.’

Fortunately, Tilly’s 15,000-strong army had recently departed Vienna for the Palatinate.

Their combined strength could turn the tide, but buying time was crucial.

Recognizing the need for a decisive move, Spinola steeled himself:

‘…No choice. Regrettable, but the Palatinate’s subjects must endure this hardship for now. A harsh consequence for their heretical folly, but unavoidable…’