The Polish Commander Kosciuszko, upon seeing the enemy cavalry move, immediately ordered the officers beside him to have his four cavalry squadrons ready to reinforce at any moment.
The Winged Cavalry were the symbol of the Polish Army, and they had to ensure victory in every battle, at least until the decisive confrontation with the Russians.
Therefore, Kosciuszko always waited until the situation in battle was clear and he was certain of victory before sending in the newly formed Winged Cavalry. They would establish their prestige by finishing off the enemy.
Of course, the Winged Cavalry were already the elite selected from thousands of cavalrymen, with the highest level of equipment and pay in the Polish Army, and their morale was astonishingly high.
As soon as the Serbian cavalry came into contact with the Winged Cavalry, they were scattered in disarray.
The Commander of the Winged Cavalry, Antoni Madaliniski, immediately dispatched a squadron to pursue the enemy horsemen, while the other soldiers swung north in a circle, regrouped, and then charged into the Serbian infantry with their red-handled sabers raised.
An hour and a half later, Kosciuszko, seeing the enemy forces had escaped their field of vision, ordered a halt to the pursuit.
Prince Poniatowski's order to him was to train the troops in as many real combat situations as possible. He estimated that in that last battle at least close to a thousand Serbians had been captured or killed. If they continued the pursuit, they might completely capture the enemy, and then there would be no more opportunities for real combat.
Pushing aside the guilt in his heart, he turned to the Austrian Commander nearby and said, "Our reconnaissance on the north shore of the Sava River is not thorough enough; pursuing deeper could potentially lead us into an enemy ambush."
The latter, already accustomed to his cautious command style, immediately praised him generously and said no more.
On the other side, the Winged Cavalry, escorting more than three hundred Serbian prisoners, returned to the camp with heads held high, their feathers glistening in the twilight sun. Surrounding Polish soldiers looked at them with eyes filled with both envy and admiration.
Not to mention the achievements of the Winged Cavalry, just their impressive appearance was enough to make all the soldiers drool.
The pair of wings on their backs, made of fine steel rods and ostrich feathers, weighed only 11 pounds. They were custom ordered from French fashion companies, costing up to 50 francs... hmm, financed by the Lyon Textile Guild, otherwise the impoverished Poland could never afford these wings.
And the effect of their practical training was quite significant.
These new recruits who had just arrived from Poland, who had only completed the most basic of formation and shooting drills before, had, after several months of real fighting on the battlefield, clearly shed their newbie greenness.
Not to say how high their combat prowess was, but at the very least, they wouldn't forget to reload their ammunition when someone died next to them, roughly equating to the results of two years of training in the barracks.
When Pladen Zubov saw Stanislaw II's haggard face appear at the door, his mood immediately turned as dismal as having walked through the muddy fields in the late autumn for a day.
Catherine II also seemed somewhat surprised. She looked towards Stanislaw II, who bowed in homage, and said, "I thought you had returned to preside over the legislation and would be busy for a long time."
"Oh, you know, it was supposed to take a long time," "Old Meat" looked back at the Tsar with sincere eyes, "but the longing in my heart wouldn't let me settle down to do anything, so as soon as I signed that piece of paper, I hurried back."
Catherine II glanced at the "Fresh Meat" beside her, seemingly a bit embarrassed, gestured for him to leave first, then addressed "Old Meat," "Stach, perhaps you should take a serious interest in the matter of the Polish constitution. To my knowledge, this law has treated many honest nobles unjustly."
"Oh, Your Majesty, can we talk about the constitution later?" "Old Meat" asked, signaling an attendant at the door to bring his guitar, unable to wait to say, "On my way back to Warsaw, I composed this piece while yearning for you, and I must play it for you right away.
"Oh, I've named it 'Amours Interdits.'"
Catherine II revealed a kind smile and nodded, "I'm looking forward to it as well."
The sound of the guitar rose and drifted through the room, gently touching the softest part of the Tsar's heart, immersing her in its charm instantly.
This piece had practically become synonymous with classical guitar, known in Chinese as "Love's Romance," gentle and melodious, as if a lover was whispering sweet and simple memories into one's ear.
After receiving the piece from the Crown Prince of France, Stanisław II had prepared to play this trump card when the time was right.
He was well aware that the new constitution eradicated many deep-rooted ills in Poland and would lead to Poland's reinvigoration, even a return to greatness. At the same time, the constitution inevitably infringed on the interests of the great nobility and Russian power — without reining in these vampires' benefits, Poland could only continue to weaken.
Though Russia claimed on the surface that it would not interfere in Polish legislation, in reality, it had always covertly directed pro-Russian forces in Poland to obstruct the emergence of the constitution.
This was why the Polish constitution had been in preparation for over a decade and had only emerged with difficulty today.
Once the Polish constitution was ratified, it was bound to anger Russia.
What Joseph hadn't told him was that just a year after the May Third Constitution passed in the Sejm, Russia brazenly invaded Poland.
Joseph had managed to have the Poles reduce the radical clauses in the constitution as much as possible and kept a close watch on the Targowica Confederation that had served as Russia's "pathfinder" in the era of "Two Melons." Still, the risk of Russian military intervention remained very high.
Soon, the song came to an end. Catherine II savored it for a full five or six minutes before opening her eyes and gently applauding "Old Meat," "You are no less brilliant than the geniuses of Vienna. I want to hear it again."
"This is for you, Your Majesty. You can listen to it as many times as you wish."
Stanisław II immediately took up the guitar again.
He then played pieces like "My Heart Will Go On" and, following tradition, began the process of reminiscing sweet memories with the Tsar until twilight approached when she ended their special "date" tired yet fulfilled, in a very good mood.
Stanisław II packed away his instrument, preparing to leave, but heard Catherine II say, "There's still some time until dinner, tell me about the Polish constitution, you've just come back from Warsaw, haven't you?"
The King of Poland paused, his heart sinking with the realization that what was inevitable would eventually come.
He turned with a smile, "Your respected Majesty, there really isn't much to say. You know, Poland is too poor, and after much discussion, the ministers concluded that providing some security and hope to those below will make them work harder to earn money and pay taxes. Oh, this can also contribute to the greatness of Russia."