Lasalle’s cavalry quickly formed into an attacking "Wall Formation".
As the name suggests, a regiment of cavalry arranged into a moving wall, charging at the enemy with thunderous speed.
The shock of this formation imposes immense pressure on the enemy, likely breaking their morale before even making direct contact.
Of course, the faster the charge, the greater the impact, and the higher speed causes horses to compete instinctively with each other, creating a "horse racing" effect, making them disregard more potential dangers.
This is similar to humans; if someone falls into an excited frenzy, they tend to ignore many dangers, unleashing fierceness and acting bolder than usual.
In a cavalry clash, the courage of the horses is a very important factor.
The horses will panic before the people do. After all, unlike humans, they are animals that act on instinct, and once panicked, they will stop charging and scatter in every direction.
A cavalry clash often ends with the scattering of one side’s horses.
Only cavalry using horses that have been meticulously trained for battle can truly clash for hundreds of exchanges.
As one of the best cavalry commanders, Lasalle was naturally well aware of this.
He would not bet on his horses being superior to the enemy’s but would strive to maximize the speed of the charge.
The faster the charge, the greater the chance of victory. It’s that simple.
Lasalle, wielding his horse sword, let out "alialialia" battle cries, leading his troops across the vast fields.
"Don’t slow down! Charge! Break the necks of the enemy’s horses!" Between shouts, he loudly encouraged his men.
Both sides were now within ten meters!
At that moment, the enemy’s formation collapsed.
The enemy’s horses, governed by instinct, broke free from their riders’ control and scattered in all directions, breaking the formation.
Lasalle exclaimed excitedly: "Great! We’ve won! Go after them!"
One of the enemy’s horses, in its panic, stepped into a rabbit hole in the field and stumbled forward, catapulting its rider onto the ground.
Lasalle gently pulled on the reins, making his horse gracefully leap over the fallen enemy.
At this point, Lasalle’s troops broke formation, as indeed, the Wall Charge was not very practical during pursuit.
The cavalrymen, like lions scattering, freely chased after the fleeing enemies.
Lasalle reached an enemy Lieutenant Colonel, loudly declaring his ancestry while swinging at the officer’s neck: "I am Lasalle, General Frost sends his regards!"
The Lieutenant Colonel turned to parry.
For every cavalryman, the most favorable direction to strike or block is towards their dominant hand. If the enemy attacks from the non-dominant side, one can only block awkwardly.
As the attacker, Lasalle was free to choose the angle of attack, approaching from the enemy’s left side.
The Lieutenant Colonel blocked the first strike awkwardly but his sword was sent flying by Lasalle’s second blow.
"To death with you!" Lasalle shouted.
The Lieutenant Colonel cried out, "I surrender! I surrender!"
Lasalle was unable to stop his blow in time and had to raise his hand sharply, slashing the air in an oblique line directly above the Lieutenant Colonel’s head, shearing off his hair.
The Lieutenant Colonel suddenly found half of his head bald.
Lasalle closed the distance and with a backhand punch knocked the Lieutenant Colonel off his horse, then continued to chase the scattering enemies.
It took a full half-hour before he led his elated troops back, searching for the just-surrendered Lieutenant Colonel.
By then, the main infantry force of the Prussian-Austrian coalition had already drawn near, with the leading coalition forces transitioning from marching columns to Formations.
Lasalle flung the still-unconscious Lieutenant Colonel over the saddle and called out to his troops: "Gale’s brewing, time to bail!"
At this moment, Beethoven was working with his comrades on fortifications by the Marne River.
Normally, musicians are exempt from construction work, but Beethoven, as someone who was always around Anning and experienced these things, naturally rolled up his sleeves and joined in.
When asked, he replied, "General Frost, in the same situation, would definitely lend a hand."
After half a day’s hustle, Beethoven’s section finally completed a low wall and could rest for the time being.
He had just sat down when the senior sergeant who was acting as the platoon leader asked, "Aren’t you the musician who works with General Frost?"
Beethoven nodded, "Yes, that musician."
The senior sergeant exclaimed, "Good heavens, what’s happened here? We’ve got a general’s musician in our row, and in the next one over, the musician from some theatre—what’s that thing that goes ’wooo wooo’..."
Beethoven said, "Are you talking about the cello?"
"Oh right, that thing! Normally, rough guys like us wouldn’t even get to see your faces; at most, we’d just mention your names and romantic affairs when boasting in the tavern. And now, here we are, working on this fortification together! Times really have changed."
Beethoven nodded, "Yes, the General himself said that we’re only divided by different duties, none is superior or inferior to the other."
The senior sergeant asked, "Did the General really say that?"
"Yes, and he acts on it too. Do you know that the food the General eats is the same as yours, except on the day a battle begins?"
"Oh, I heard that on that day, the General drinks a toast, with the sight of the enemy being routed as his chaser," another robust man joined the conversation.
By this time, several people had gathered around Beethoven and the senior sergeant.
Someone curiously asked Beethoven, "Is the General extremely tall? I heard he’s three times taller than a normal man, a colossal giant!"
"Yeah, yeah, I’ve also heard that the General can fire a cannon by lifting it just as we do with our rifles! During battle, the artillerymen just have to load, and once they’re done, they hand it off to the General to fire!"
Beethoven couldn’t help but respond with a smile and a slight grimace, "Are you talking about a General, or Hercules?"
The soldiers were puzzled, "Hercules what?"
Beethoven explained, "Hercules, the Greek mythological figure, the strongman who helped Prometheus and stole the Golden Fleece with Jason."
The soldiers showed looks of admiration; after all, Beethoven had shared with them thrilling stories they’d never heard even in the taverns.
The senior sergeant marveled, "You’re surely a man of culture, speaking of things we don’t know."
Another soldier asked curiously, "Your... Your French has an accent. Are you not French?"
Beethoven replied, "Correct, I am German."
The French Army soldiers looked at each other, bewildered. A sergeant asked, "Then why are you with us? Aren’t our enemies Prussia and Austria, and aren’t they both Germans?"
Beethoven was taken aback for a moment. He had never considered this question before, after all, at this time, nationalism was still a novel concept, not something everyone possessed.
France was the cradle of the Enlightenment and had gone through the Great Revolution, so even the most common soldiers had a sense of nationhood, feeling a sense of belonging to their homeland.
But for the German Beethoven, such thoughts had not yet taken shape.
Furthermore, at that time, Germany was a loose collection of states, with Austria and Prussia merely being one of the many principalities on that land, neither of which could represent the entire German nation.
Beethoven pondered over this question seriously, falling into deep thought.
The French soldiers exchanged glances.
"Did we say something untoward?"
"I told you to keep your mouth shut!"
At this moment, Beethoven abruptly snapped out of his reflection and hastened to reassure them, "I’m fine, truly. I just had a sudden realization. Anyway, since everyone’s resting, how about I play some music for you?"
The crowd enthusiastically nodded, "Yes, please!"
Though they were all rough men, Paris was the cultural center of Europe, often filled with musicians playing music on the streets, so even these men had a certain appreciation for music.
Beethoven took out a flute and said with a smile, "This flute was recommended by General Frost as a portable musical instrument to carry with me. He said it’s easy to carry and has a beautiful tone. And he mentioned that it is his favorite instrument."
After saying this, Beethoven brought the flute to his lips and a melodious tune began to waft into the sky.
The soldiers quieted down.
The music Beethoven played was his own impromptu creation, completely without sheet music.
Of course, even a genius composer couldn’t produce a masterpiece in an instant, this melody was just a combination of some basic themes.
But still, everyone was utterly captivated.
Suddenly, the senior sergeant said, "That’s wonderful. If I fall in the coming battle, I hope you’ll play a tune at my graveside."
Others quickly agreed, "Me too!"
"Play one for me too!"
Beethoven, with a solemn expression, nodded seriously, "If I am still alive then, I will! And you—don’t you die too easily!"