Chapter 788: "The Harvest"
Pavia, Battlefield
From a distance, Napoleon raised his hat toward Marmont, a sign of approval.
—Your performance has truly surprised me, Auguste.
—Even without orders from me, you chose the perfect interception point and delivered a decisive blow to the enemy.
—I had expected a tough battle… but now, haha, we can sit down and have a cup of coffee instead.
Marmont, looking somewhat guilty, spurred his horse forward.
—I only did what was expected of me… uh, to be honest, the enemy collapsed without a fight.
—By the way, I heard from captured officers… You've already taken Milan?
He wasn't just being modest.
In reality, his main force was still on its way to Milan.
When he saw Leptay suddenly retreat, he assumed the Austrian commander was heading to reinforce Milan, so he ordered his men to pursue eastward.
But then he worried—what if Leptay was actually moving to block Napoleon at Lodi?
If Napoleon's lightning force had moved too slowly, they might still be on the wrong side of the river.
To be safe, Marmont led 2,500 soldiers along the eastern bank of the Po River, racing toward Lodi.
Then, just north of Pavia, he unexpectedly stumbled upon a large Austrian force.
At first, he thought he had been ambushed—but the enemy collapsed on contact.
And just like that, Marmont's 2,500 men ended up capturing more than 4,000 Austrian soldiers.
He had no idea that Leptay's troops, upon seeing the French, assumed they were Napoleon's main force from Milan.
Still shaken from their defeat at Toulon, their morale broke instantly, and they surrendered without a fight—even Leptay couldn't stop them.
—Yes, I have successfully taken Milan.
Napoleon glanced around, slightly puzzled.
—Why so few soldiers? Where is our main force?
—They're on their way to Milan, sir.
Once Napoleon understood the situation, he immediately ordered:
—Send riders to stop them—have them wait outside Milan.
—Yes, sir. But… why?
Napoleon smiled as he looked at the long line of prisoners, stretching over a kilometer.
—Because we need a grand entrance.
Two Days Later – Outside Milan
Drums boomed rhythmically, followed by the triumphant blare of military trumpets.
All shops and factories in Milan were ordered to close for the day.
Over ten thousand citizens gathered along the southern roads, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the incoming army.
Soon, rows of French cavalry appeared, carrying golden fleur-de-lis banners, the Montpellier Corps standard, and the Moulin Corps flag.
They marched in perfect formation, cutting a path through the cheering crowd.
Behind them, a French infantry regiment escorted thousands of dejected Austrian prisoners into the city.
The captives, dressed in tattered Austrian uniforms, trudged forward with defeated expressions.
Many of them still had bloodstains on their faces and uniforms—Napoleon had specifically ordered that they not be cleaned up.
Soon, the first stones began to fly.
—Bastardi austriaci! (Austrian bastards!)
—Go back to Vienna, cowards!
Dirt, rocks, even animal waste rained down on the prisoners.
Napoleon hadn't planned for this—the Italian citizens did it of their own accord.
Within moments, a storm of filth was pelting the Austrian captives.
Their screams filled the streets.
French soldiers had to intervene to restore order—otherwise, some prisoners would have been beaten to death.
It took over an hour and a half for all 4,000–5,000 captured Austrians to march through the city gates.
Once the road was cleared, a trumpet sounded.
A short-statured officer on horseback appeared, wearing a white hussar uniform and a three-cornered hat.
Surrounded by hundreds of elite guards, drummers, and pipers, he rode proudly into Milan.
Someone in the crowd shouted first:
—Long live His Majesty, the King of France!
—Glory and victory to General Buonaparte!
—Praise the great army of France!
—Welcome, our liberator!
This time, Napoleon's men had planted the shouters in the crowd.
But soon, the entire city joined in, erupting into celebration.
People danced in the streets, as if their own army had defeated the Austrians.
At that moment, all of Milan knew—Habsburg rule was over.
Milan City Hall – Victory Banquet
A lavish banquet was held at Milan's city hall.
Napoleon and his senior officers sat at the head table, surrounded by Milan's wealthiest nobles and merchants.
All of them were desperate to win favor with the new rulers.
Napoleon sipped his wine, listening to the elegant music playing in the background.
As his gaze drifted across paintings on the walls, he turned to Giuseppe Lera, the Vice President of Milan's City Council.
—My dear Milanese friends, your generosity truly touches my heart.
—Especially the donation you've given my soldiers—a magnificent sum of two million francs.
—You are the most generous people I have ever met!
—I swear on my life that I will protect Milan's safety.
Vice President Lera froze.
There was a donation—it was customary to offer something to a new conqueror.
But that amount was wrong.
Nervously, he muttered:
—Uhm… sir, I believe you must be mistaken… The agreed amount was 400,000 francs…
Napoleon's smile vanished.
His voice turned cold.
—Oh? I distinctly remember it being three million.
—Has someone been embezzling the donations?
—Perhaps I should have the military police investigate.
Lera's heart nearly stopped.
The message was clear—if Milan couldn't deliver three million francs, many officials would "mysteriously" end up in prison.
At the moment, the Austrian governor, Ferdinand, and the Habsburg-appointed mayor had already fled to Vienna.
Lera was now Milan's highest-ranking official.
He understood—if he failed to please the French, they would simply replace him.
And he would be the one accused of corruption.
Forcing a strained smile, he quickly said:
—Oh, I meant… there are still many donations being counted.
—The total is indeed three million francs.
—They will be delivered to your headquarters by noon the day after tomorrow.
Napoleon finally smiled again.
—Good.
—You know, my army marched here all the way from the Alps, and our supplies are running low.
—I would like you to prepare a month's worth of provisions for 15,000 men—food, wine, oats, gunpowder.
—One week should be enough time, yes?
Lera forced another smile.
—One week… yes, of course! I promise, everything will be ready.
Napoleon leaned in slightly.
—Oh, one more thing. I heard Raphael's "The Marriage of the Virgin" is kept in the Governor's Palace?
—Y-yes.
Lera swallowed and immediately understood.
—It should belong to a man of your refined taste, sir.
Napoleon chuckled.
—Oh, and what about Michelangelo's…
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