Three days earlier, Venice.
After the rebels had caused such a commotion in the city for so many days, and with the battle just fought, Venice had finally quieted down.
The next day, when Franz saw the postwar statistics, his jaw nearly hit the floor. Venice had originally been garrisoned by only twenty thousand soldiers, yet after a series of bloody battles, its ranks had somehow swelled by more than ten thousand.
Needless to say, they had to be the stragglers from Alois Palffy's defeated army. He hadn't expected them to run so fast. It seemed he would have to deal with the remnants himself.
But the ironic thing was, it wasn't Franz who came to deal with the remnants. It was General Alois Palffy, who had been missing for quite some time.
More ironic still, the latter was now furious, and the officers under his command were going berserk.
"You miserable bastards! You sons of bitches! You cowards who know nothing but how to run! Do you think you can escape punishment just by fleeing here?"
Thousands of soldiers were forced to stand beneath the blazing sun, their bodies exhausted. Anyone who dared to move or look around was viciously flogged.
The days of travel had already left the soldiers utterly spent. Add a lecture that was practically torture and the occasional lash of a whip, and someone in the ranks was constantly collapsing.
But those who fell earned no sympathy, let alone medical attention. They were only beaten even more savagely.
Anyone who dared to object was hanged in the square. The charges, naturally, were treason and disobeying orders on the battlefield—either one was enough to get these ordinary soldiers killed ten times over.
General Alois Palffy's behavior infuriated Colonel Bordeaux and Colonel Monta. They sympathized with the