"Marshal, enemy traces have been spotted on the north side."
Before the cavalryman could finish speaking, Alvinzi noticed unrest among the soldiers in the distance.
He immediately frowned. Just as he was about to have Davidovich organize a defense, cannon fire rang out from the northwest.
He looked at the cavalryman delivering the report. "Did you just say the north?"
"Y-yes..."
Alvinzi turned back with a dark expression. Victor's French Army, which had come from Trento, was there.
And yesterday, Zweig had reported that he had crushed Napoleon's forces. Therefore, continuing the retreat toward Mount Topaganella should have been safer.
Alvinzi looked at Davidovich. "Open up the road west immediately."
Then he told the messenger officer, "Contact General Zweig. Have him send men to receive me."
What he had not expected, however, was that Victor was merely playing the role of the "hound"—barking loudly to drive him, the "rabbit," out into the open.
The real hunter was Napoleon, who had rushed over from Morvino.
On the north side, Davidovich's troops were still arranging their formation when French Infantry appeared half a kilometer away.
Without the slightest hesitation, more than a dozen French columns charged straight at them to the beat of War Drums.
To the west, the French Royal Horse Artillery Battalion had positioned its cannon directly beside the road.
Fourteen Six-Pound Cannons began bombarding the Austrian Army's vanguard in rapid succession.
Davidovich's soldiers had been thrashed by this French Army only days earlier. Now, faced with the artillery position displayed so brazenly before them, they had no intention whatsoever of destroying it. One after another, they turned and fled.
Seeing this, the French Dragoon battalion assigned to cover the artillery simply took on the role of cavalry, brandishing sabers as they pursued and slaughtered the fleeing men.
Davidovich personally