The Forneaux estate’s library was once again Caelan’s sanctuary. Shelves of ancient tomes and scrolls loomed around him, their shadows stretching under the golden light of oil lamps. A collection of books and manuscripts lay open on the desk before him, each page filled with diagrams, battlefield sketches, and detailed descriptions of formations and maneuvers.
Caelan’s focus was razor-sharp as he immersed himself in the history of this world’s warfare. The more he read, the more the patterns became apparent. While magic and fantastical creatures added a unique flavor to conflicts, the fundamental principles of combat remained surprisingly familiar.
One formation in particular caught Caelan’s attention. Referred to in this world as the “Shield and Spear” tactic, it bore an uncanny resemblance to the Tercios formation employed by Spain during Europe’s 15th to 17th centuries. The formation consisted of large blocks of infantry, typically pikemen at the center, surrounded by musketeers on the flanks. Artillery and cavalry supported from behind or the sides, creating a formidable combination of offense and defense.
This formation was highly adaptable, able to fend off both cavalry charges and massed infantry attacks. However, it lacked the speed and flexibility required to exploit weaknesses on the battlefield. Caelan smirked faintly as he turned the page. Stagnation, he thought. A rigid formation is only as good as the commander’s ability to adapt.
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Caelan’s thoughts turned to the tactics that had defined his previous life. The battlefield principles of 19th-century Europe, refined during his era, were a stark contrast to the “Shield and Spear.” Where the latter emphasized defense and rigidity, Napoleon’s tactics thrived on speed, precision, and overwhelming force.
Key Features of the proposed Tactics:
1. Line Formation:
* Infantry deployed in long, thin lines to maximize musket firepower.
2. Column Formation:
* Compact units used for rapid movement and concentrated assaults.
3. Infantry Squares:
* Tight defensive formations to repel cavalry charges.
4. Combined Arms Warfare:
* Coordinated use of infantry, cavalry, and artillery to strike swiftly and decisively.
5. Mobility and Maneuver:
* Constant movement to outflank and disrupt enemy lines.
These tactics had revolutionized European warfare, allowing smaller, disciplined armies to overcome larger, less organized forces. Caelan saw their potential to do the same in this world.
Yet, as Caelan’s pen scratched against parchment, outlining his ideas, he found himself faced with several glaring issues. The Forneaux military—like much of Frankia’s forces—was ill-equipped to implement such tactics. He listed the problems in neat, numbered order, each one a barrier that required immediate attention.
1. Outdated Weaponry
The bulk of the Forneaux infantry used matchlock rifles, a weapon with glaring weaknesses. Matchlocks were slow to reload and unreliable in damp conditions, making them a liability on the battlefield. If they were to adopt Napoleon’s tactics, Caelan needed to modernize their armaments, starting with flintlock muskets or—if resources allowed—early breech-loading rifles.
2. A Fragmented Force
The Forneaux military relied heavily on militia—ordinary peasants called to arms during wartime. Even the duchy’s professional soldiers served only for fixed periods each year, rotating in and out like seasonal workers. This lack of a standing, year-round army made discipline and cohesion nearly impossible to maintain.
Solution: Caelan made a note to propose the creation of a permanent, professional force, supplemented by reserves trained to a higher standard than the current militia.
3. Obsolete Artillery
The cannons in the Forneaux arsenal were cumbersome, inaccurate, and slow to reload. While they could cause significant damage, their inefficiency on the battlefield often made them more of a hindrance than a help.
Solution: Modernized artillery with superior range and accuracy, as well as the introduction of specialized crews trained in rapid deployment and firing techniques.
4. A Merchant Navy, Not a Warfleet
The Forneaux navy consisted mostly of galleons—sturdy, versatile ships capable of transporting goods and troops but poorly suited for naval warfare. Caelan envisioned a fleet of purpose-built warships: frigates for speed and maneuverability, corvettes for escort duties, and ships-of-the-line to dominate the open seas.
5. Insufficient Gunpowder Production
The duchy’s reliance on imported gunpowder was a critical vulnerability. Any disruption in supply could cripple their forces, leaving them defenseless in the face of aggression.
Solution: Invest in local production facilities, utilizing both traditional methods and, potentially, enchanted tools to increase efficiency.
6. Lack of Infrastructure
The duchy’s few railroads were insufficient for the rapid movement of troops and supplies. Carriages and wagons were slow and vulnerable to attack, hampering both logistics and strategy.
Solution: Expand the rail network, prioritizing routes connecting key locations like the barracks, the mines, and the planned port city.
Caelan sat back, his list complete. The scope of the problems was staggering, but he had faced worse in his previous life. Each challenge represented an opportunity to reshape the Forneaux military into a force capable of implementing his tactics and dominating the battlefield.
“This will take years,” he murmured, his eyes scanning the page. “But time is a resource I intend to use wisely.”
He rose from his chair, moving to the window. The barracks were visible in the distance, a cluster of sturdy stone buildings surrounded by a training field. Even now, he could see soldiers sparring and drilling, their movements competent but uninspired.
Discipline will be our foundation, he thought. If our troops can master precision and coordination, they’ll have the edge over any opponent.
Caelan began to outline a new training regimen:
1. Infantry Training:
* Introduce Napoleonic drills focused on rapid deployment and maneuverability.
* Practice line formation firing, volley coordination, and bayonet charges.
2. Cavalry and Artillery Integration:
* Train cavalry to support infantry maneuvers and exploit weaknesses.
* Develop artillery crews capable of repositioning and firing under pressure.
3. Leadership Development:
* Identify promising soldiers and promote them to officer training programs.
* Emphasize adaptability, decisiveness, and loyalty.
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As the sun dipped below the horizon, Caelan returned to his desk, lighting a fresh candle. His list of reforms was ambitious, but it was only the beginning. The Forneaux army, the port city, the economic modernization—all were pieces of a larger puzzle. If they succeeded, they would not only secure the duchy’s future but also position House Forneaux as a dominant force in Frankia.
But success would not come without sacrifice. Each step forward would bring resistance—from within the duchy, from rival houses, and from forces beyond the kingdom’s borders. Yet Caelan welcomed the challenge. This world had given him a second chance, and he intended to seize it with both hands.
The Forneaux estate was quiet as Caelan sat at his desk, quill poised over a blank sheet of parchment. The decision he was about to make would set the tone for the future of the duchy’s military. He had outlined his plans meticulously, balancing ambition with practicality, but success hinged on how well he could convince those who carried out these reforms.
At the top of the letter, he wrote the name of the Marshal of the Forneaux military: Geoffrey Valran. The man was a veteran of numerous campaigns, his service to the duchy spanning decades. Though capable and respected, Valran was known to be a traditionalist, firmly rooted in the methods that had served Frankia’s armies for centuries.
Caelan began to write:
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To Marshal Geoffrey Valran,
I request your presence at the estate for a meeting to discuss the future of our military. Please bring your senior officers. There are reforms I intend to implement that will require their insight, cooperation, and leadership.
This is not a suggestion but an imperative. The challenges we face demand immediate attention and decisive action. I trust in your loyalty to the Forneaux name and in your dedication to the strength of our forces.
The meeting will take place tomorrow at noon in the council chamber. I expect all parties to arrive prepared to engage in open discussion and to embrace the changes necessary to secure the duchy’s future.
Caelan Adrien de Forneaux
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As he signed his name, Caelan folded the letter carefully and sealed it with the family crest. He called for a courier, who took the missive with a bow and departed immediately for the barracks. Watching the courier ride off, Caelan felt a flicker of anticipation.
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The council chamber was a grand room, its high ceilings adorned with banners depicting the Forneaux crest. A long oak table dominated the space, surrounded by chairs upholstered in deep crimson leather. Caelan stood at the head of the table, his journal and notes neatly arranged before him.
The doors opened, and Marshal Geoffrey Valran entered, followed by four of his senior officers. The marshal was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his late fifties, his graying hair cut short. His uniform was immaculate, and his piercing blue eyes swept over the room before settling on Caelan.
“My lord,” Valran said, bowing deeply. “You summoned us.”
“Thank you for coming, Marshal,” Caelan replied, motioning for them to take their seats. “Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”
The officers exchanged glances but did as instructed. Valran took the seat closest to Caelan, his expression unreadable. The others—men in their thirties and forties, all seasoned soldiers—sat further down the table, their postures ranging from attentive to skeptical.
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Caelan remained standing, his hands resting lightly on the table’s edge. He met each man’s gaze before speaking, his tone measured but firm.
“Gentlemen, thank you for answering my call. As you know, the state of our military is a matter of great importance to the duchy. We face challenges that cannot be ignored—challenges that require immediate and decisive action.”
Valran leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. “With respect, my lord, our forces are as capable as any in Frankia. We’ve defended the duchy for decades without issue. What challenges, exactly, do you see?”
Caelan nodded, expecting the question. “Capability is relative, Marshal. The Forneaux military has performed admirably, but our methods are outdated. Our matchlock rifles are unreliable, our artillery is inaccurate, and our forces lack cohesion due to the rotational militia system. These deficiencies leave us vulnerable.”
One of the younger officers, Captain Alain, frowned. “Vulnerable to what? The duchy hasn’t faced a serious threat in years.”
“Complacency is the greatest threat of all,” Caelan said sharply. “Rivals in the east are already leveraging magic and modernized weaponry to gain an edge. If we do not adapt, we will fall behind—not just as a military force, but as a duchy.”
Valran’s expression hardened. “You speak of adaptation, my lord, but these changes you propose come at a cost. Modernizing weapons, retraining soldiers—such efforts require time and resources we may not have.”
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“Time is a luxury we can no longer afford,” Caelan countered. “The resources will be allocated, and the changes will be made. What I need from you is cooperation.”
Another officer, Major Orlan, interjected. “Forgive me, my lord, but the militia system has served us well for generations. It allows us to call upon the population in times of need without the burden of maintaining a permanent force.”
“And it leaves us with undisciplined men who lack the skills to execute complex maneuvers,” Caelan replied. “The rotational system fragments our forces, undermines unit cohesion, and limits our readiness. We need a standing army—professional soldiers who train year-round and are prepared to act at a moment’s notice.”
The officers exchanged uneasy glances. Valran’s jaw tightened. “And how do you propose we pay for this standing army? The duchy’s coffers are not bottomless.”
“Through efficiency,” Caelan said. “The economic reforms I’ve initiated will generate additional revenue. Furthermore, modernized artillery and firearms will reduce reliance on sheer numbers, allowing us to maintain a smaller but more effective force.”
Caelan turned to a large chalkboard that had been placed behind him. Using a piece of chalk, he began sketching simple diagrams of formations: long lines of infantry, compact columns, and defensive squares.
“These,” he said, gesturing to the diagrams, “are the formations we will employ moving forward. Line formations will maximize firepower, allowing us to deliver concentrated volleys that break enemy lines. Columns will enable rapid movement and decisive assaults. Infantry squares will neutralize cavalry charges, and combined arms tactics will ensure that every unit—infantry, cavalry, and artillery—operates as part of a coordinated whole.”
The room fell silent as the officers studied the diagrams. Valran’s expression remained guarded, but the younger officers seemed intrigued.
Captain Alain spoke up again, his tone skeptical but curious. “These tactics sound... ambitious. Have they been tested?”
“They were the foundation of my—” Caelan caught himself, quickly correcting. “Of a successful military doctrine I studied extensively. These methods prioritize mobility, precision, and overwhelming force. They will work, but only if the soldiers are disciplined and the officers committed.”
Valran leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. “You speak with conviction, my lord, but implementing these changes will not be easy. Soldiers resist change, and officers even more so. It will take time to train the men, to instill discipline, to make them believe in these tactics.”
“Then we start now,” Caelan said firmly. “The barracks will implement new training regimens immediately. I expect your cooperation, Marshal.”
The room grew tense as Valran weighed his response. Finally, he gave a slow nod. “You have my cooperation, my lord. But know this: if these reforms fail, it will not be because of the men under my command. The responsibility will rest squarely on your shoulders.”
Caelan met his gaze without flinching. “Understood.”
As the officers filed out of the council chamber, their expressions a mix of skepticism and resolve, Caelan remained behind with Valran. The older man regarded him thoughtfully before speaking.
“You’ve changed, my lord,” Valran said. “I don’t know what brought this on, but I hope, for all our sakes, that you’re right.”
Caelan offered a faint smile. “Change is necessary, Marshal. Without it, we stagnate.”
Valran nodded, then turned and left, leaving Caelan alone in the chamber. He glanced at the diagrams on the chalkboard, his mind already racing with the next steps.
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As the council chamber grew quiet after the officers’ departure, Caelan retreated to his chambers, his mind abuzz with possibilities. Among the many changes he envisioned for the Forneaux military, one small but critical detail stood out: their appearance. A soldier’s uniform was not merely functional—it was a statement, a symbol of discipline and unity. The current drab and mismatched attire of the militia did little to inspire pride or cohesion.
He sat at his desk, pulling out a clean sheet of parchment. Memories of his past life flooded his thoughts as he began sketching, the lines and curves of the design flowing naturally from his hand.
The coat was the foundation: a deep blue, elegant yet practical, reflecting authority and loyalty. Red piping outlined the white lapels, collar, and cuffs, with matching red accents on the turnbacks and shoulder straps. The buttons—simple brass discs stamped with the unit’s identification numbers—added a touch of order and uniformity. The trousers would remain white, providing a striking contrast to the dark blue coat.
As he worked, he visualized the army as it would look in full formation: rows of disciplined soldiers in identical uniforms, their muskets gleaming, their ranks impeccable. The sight alone would strike fear into their enemies and inspire confidence in their allies.
Satisfied with the design, Caelan set the sketch aside and wrote a letter to the Tailoring Guild of Forneaux:
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To the Master of the Tailoring Guild,
I write to commission a new set of uniforms for the Forneaux military. Enclosed you will find detailed sketches and specifications. These uniforms are to be made with the finest materials available, ensuring both durability and a professional appearance.
I will require an initial set of samples for inspection. Once approved, production will begin for the entire standing force. Please prioritize this task and inform me of any challenges regarding resources or labor.
Caelan Adrien de Forneaux
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After sealing the letter and attaching the sketches, Caelan set it aside and moved on to another task.
The next letter was addressed to his father, Duke Adrien de Forneaux. Writing it required a delicate balance. He needed to assert his intentions without undermining the Duke’s authority entirely. Caelan’s lips twitched in faint amusement as he considered the inevitable argument this would spark.
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To Duke Adrien de Forneaux,
Father,
I have taken initial steps to reform the duchy’s military, as discussed. This includes the commissioning of new uniforms, which will reflect the discipline and professionalism I aim to instill in our forces. These uniforms, though a seemingly minor change, are a crucial part of shaping the identity of our soldiers and ensuring their unity.
Additionally, I have initiated communications with the Weapons Research and Development Bureau and the Shipbuilding Guild. While I have not disclosed specifics, I intend to meet with them to discuss critical innovations for the army and navy.
Your approval of these reforms, while ideal, is not an immediate necessity. I am confident their success will speak for itself.
Caelan Adrien de Forneaux
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Caelan smirked faintly as he folded the letter. His father would no doubt have words for him when they next spoke, but for now, the task was delegated to his future self.
The next letters were straightforward:
1. To the Forneaux Weapons Research and Development Bureau:
* A request for a meeting to discuss weapon modernization, ensuring the letter remained vague to protect confidentiality.
2. To the Forneaux Shipbuilding Guild:
* A similar request, with instructions to prepare reports on current naval capabilities and ongoing projects.
Each letter was sealed and handed to couriers, who departed promptly for their destinations.
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With the letters dispatched, Caelan returned to his desk. His next task was far more personal: the design of the muskets and artillery pieces that would define the reformed Forneaux military.
He began with the Charleville M1777 Revolutionnaire musket, a weapon he knew intimately from his previous life. He sketched the musket’s shape with practiced ease, adding notations for its specifications:
* Mass: 4.75 kilograms (10.5 lbs)
* Length: 1.52 meters (60 inches)
* Barrel length: 113.7 centimeters (44.8 inches)
* Caliber: 17.5mm (.69 inch) musket ball
* Action: Flintlock mechanism
* Feed system: Muzzle-loaded
* Sights: A front sight cast into the upper barrel band
He then adapted the design for cavalry use, sketching shorter carbine and musketoon variants, ensuring they retained the same reliability and stopping power as their infantry counterpart. These would be invaluable for mounted units, offering a balance between firepower and mobility.
Satisfied with the muskets, Caelan turned his attention to artillery. Memories of his time in the French artillery corps flooded back as he began sketching the Gribeauval guns, the pinnacle of 18th-century European field artillery.
He detailed three primary cannon designs:
1. Canon de 12 Gribeauval – A 12-pounder cannon for long-range bombardment.
2. Canon de 8 Gribeauval – An 8-pounder cannon, offering a balance between mobility and firepower.
3. Canon de 4 Gribeauval – A 4-pounder cannon, ideal for rapid deployment and support.
He also included the 6-inch howitzer, a versatile weapon capable of firing explosive shells over obstacles.
Each design emphasized mobility, durability, and ease of operation. He made careful notations regarding the materials required and potential modifications to account for the resources available in this world.
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As the afternoon wore on, Caelan gathered his completed sketches and notes. It was time to present them to his father. While he could push through some reforms without approval, the sheer scale of his plans required the Duke’s backing—at least in part.
The sun hung low on the horizon as Caelan made his way to the main hall, where he knew his father would be reviewing estate matters. His grip on the folder of designs was firm, his steps measured.
“Let’s see how this unfolds,” he muttered to himself, his expression resolute as he approached the door.
Caelan moved through the hallways of the Forneaux estate at an unhurried pace, the folder of designs clutched in one hand. The walls were adorned with grand paintings, each a testament to the duchy’s legacy. Portraits of past dukes stared down at him with stern gazes, their hands resting on the pommels of ceremonial swords or gesturing toward imagined glories. Between them, vast landscapes depicted vineyards, ports, and the rolling hills of Forneaux’s countryside.
He paused briefly before a portrait of his grandfather, a man whose shrewd gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of time. They built this world, brick by brick, but they built it for themselves, Caelan thought. What I envision is something far greater—a legacy not just of wealth, but of purpose.
His thoughts wandered to the tasks ahead. The military reforms were only the beginning. Infrastructure, economic revitalization, naval supremacy—each piece of his plan felt monumental on its own. Together, they formed a towering edifice that would take years to construct. Yet, Caelan was undeterred. The echoes of his past life, the weight of unfinished dreams, propelled him forward.
He resumed walking, his boots clicking softly against the polished floor. His mind was so absorbed in plans that he almost didn’t notice the figure rounding the corner until they collided.
“Whoa there!” a familiar voice said as Caelan stumbled back slightly. He looked up to see Lucien Armand du Lac, his best friend and bodyguard, grinning as he steadied himself. Sweat glistened on Lucien’s brow, his shirt damp from what was clearly an intense training session. His sword hung at his hip, its hilt polished but well-worn.
“Lucien,” Caelan said, adjusting his grip on the folder. “You’re fresh from training, I see.”
Lucien ran a hand through his dark hair, smirking. “Got to keep sharp, especially with all the changes you’re throwing at us. Speaking of which…” He tilted his head, his expression growing more serious. “You’ve been different lately, Caelan. Driven. It’s like you’ve become someone else entirely.”
The words struck like a hammer, and for a moment, Caelan hesitated. Lucien’s gaze was searching, his usual camaraderie tinged with suspicion. He’s noticing too much, Caelan thought. I need to address this—quickly.
“What makes you say that?” Caelan asked, keeping his tone light but curious.
Lucien shrugged, though his sharp eyes didn’t waver. “You’ve always been ambitious, but these last few days… It’s like you’ve woken up with a fire I’ve never seen before. The way you speak, the plans you make—it’s almost as if you’ve lived this all before.”
Caelan’s mind raced. He needed a plausible explanation, one that would satisfy Lucien’s curiosity without unraveling the truth. He drew a deep breath, then spoke, his voice calm and deliberate.
“You’re right, Lucien,” Caelan began. “I have changed. And it’s because I’ve seen something—something extraordinary.”
Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Seen something? What do you mean?”
“I had a vision,” Caelan said, his tone steady. “It came to me in a dream, but it felt more real than anything I’ve ever experienced. I saw a past life—my past life. I was an emperor, leading my people to glory.”
Lucien blinked, the skepticism clear on his face. “An emperor?”
“Yes,” Caelan said, his voice gaining strength. “I commanded armies that reshaped the world, bringing order to chaos. My nation thrived under my rule, but I was surrounded by enemies—jealous powers that sought to destroy what I had built. Despite my victories, I was betrayed, my ambitions cut short.”
He paused, his gaze distant as if recalling the vision in vivid detail. “I regret much of what happened in that life. I made mistakes, trusted the wrong people. But the principles I fought for—unity, progress, the betterment of the people—those were worth every sacrifice.”
Lucien crossed his arms, his expression torn between intrigue and doubt. “And this… vision of yours? It’s the reason you’re so driven now?”
“It is,” Caelan admitted. “I’ve been given a second chance, Lucien. A chance to correct my mistakes and fulfill the dream I couldn’t achieve before. But this time, I’ll need allies—true allies. People I can trust completely.”
Lucien studied him in silence, his piercing gaze weighing every word. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but resolute.
“If this vision of yours is true, and if your drive comes from a desire to better the world, I’ll stand by you. But hear me, Caelan—I’ll not follow a tyrant. The moment you stray from this path, I’ll be the first to call you out.”
Caelan felt a wave of relief. He placed a hand on Lucien’s shoulder, meeting his gaze with sincerity. “You have my word, Lucien. Everything I do, I do for the people. And I swear to you—I won’t lose sight of that.”
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The tension between them eased as they resumed walking. Lucien chuckled softly, the sound breaking the lingering silence. “You know, you’ve always had a flair for drama. This whole ‘past life as an emperor’ thing feels like something straight out of a bard’s tale.”
Caelan smirked. “Perhaps. But even bards need inspiration, don’t they?”
As they approached the Duke’s office, Caelan stopped and turned to Lucien. “One more thing,” he said, his tone serious. “What I’ve told you—it stays between us. No one else can know.”
Lucien raised an eyebrow but nodded. “You have my word. No one will hear it from me.”
“Good,” Caelan said, his voice firm. “Thank you, Lucien.”
Lucien placed a hand over his heart, bowing slightly. “On my honor.”
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Unbeknownst to them, a figure lingered in the shadows of the hallway’s corner. Juliette, her auburn hair catching the faint light, pressed herself against the wall. A mischievous smile danced on her lips as she stifled a giggle.
“Well, well,” she murmured to herself. “This just got interesting.”
As Caelan and Lucien disappeared into the Duke’s office, Juliette slipped back down the corridor, her mind alight with possibilities.
End of Chapter 7