Encounter

Under the scorching sun, Laszlo sat on a rock on the hillside, frowning as he looked at the rugged road ahead.

He realized he had made a significant error in his decision; this place was full of mountain roads, sparsely populated, and difficult to resupply. He shouldn't have come here at all.

Less than two days had passed since they departed from Trieste, and further penetration into the peninsula would likely lead to even more complex terrain.

"Your Majesty, according to the intelligence gathered by the scouts and the descriptions from the guides, the road ahead is even more rugged, resupply is difficult, and there is a severe shortage of water. It would not be a wise choice to continue leading the large army deeper."

Joachim reported the reconnaissance intelligence to Laszlo.

"The Venetians' main defensive areas are along the coast, specifically the port of Pula and its surrounding regions. Their garrison there does not exceed one thousand men."

Laszlo remained silent, then, after a long while, sighed softly, inwardly cursing his carelessness.

Only just now did he realize that the area he was traversing was precisely what later generations would call the Karst Plateau. Anyone who had studied geography would have heard of karst topography, and the name of this landform originated from here.

He had only noticed that the Venetian strongholds on the Istria peninsula would threaten his rear, but he had not considered the difficulties the army might encounter when attacking this area.

"Alright," Laszlo stood up, the harsh sunlight falling upon him, "I will detach a small force to attack Pula. The remaining army will return to Trieste and then march towards Friuli."

General Karl, who was standing nearby, immediately expressed his support for Laszlo's decision.

His cavalry and chariots found movement in such terrain to be a nightmare; further advance would likely result in greater losses.

Seeing that the Emperor was still frowning, Joachim's mind stirred, and he quickly said, "The entire responsibility for this lies with my General Staff for failing to timely ascertain the terrain, which led to increased losses for the army. I humbly ask Your Majesty to punish me."

Laszlo looked with some surprise at the Chief of Staff kneeling at his feet with his head bowed, and his brow immediately relaxed.

As expected of the deputy valued by Adolf, he was indeed extraordinary.

Laszlo cleared his throat and said gently, "It is indeed a dereliction of duty for the General Staff to fail to scout the marching route in advance, but for now, there will be no punishment. Let this be an exception."

"Thank you for Your Majesty's clemency."

Joachim secretly observed the Emperor's expression and the surrounding generals. Seeing that their doubts and resentment had largely dissipated, or rather, most of it had shifted from the Emperor to him, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

At such a time, the commander could not bear the responsibility for a decision-making error, especially when the Emperor was the commander. The wise and mighty Emperor could not and would not make mistakes, so he could only take the blame.

In fact, he had already sent people to scout the marching route, but it was the marching route to the Friuli Plain.

According to his estimation, it would be best for the large army to quickly pass through the river valley in the lower reaches of the Isonzo River and enter the open plains north of Venice to engage the Venetians in a decisive battle there.

Such a marching route indeed carried risks, but it was also the only way to achieve a quick victory over Venice.

He just hadn't expected the Emperor to be overly cautious, choosing to go south first and then north, which resulted in insufficient preparation by the General Staff.

Fortunately, it was not too late to make the correct decision now.

The grand army split into two routes: a Landshut mercenary general named Andreas was ordered to lead two thousand mercenaries south along the coast of Istria to attack the Venetian cities in Istria.

Laszlo, meanwhile, led the main force of the army back to Trieste, and after linking up with Field Marshal Albrecht's army, the grand army marched north along the relatively flat coastal areas.

Several days later, the grand army arrived at Gorizia Castle. Field Marshal Albrecht's vanguard had already crossed the river at the ford and bridges, set up defenses, and secured the bridgehead on the opposite bank.

Laszlo, riding his warhorse and escorted by the Imperial Guard cavalry, crossed the bridge over the river and arrived on the opposite bank.

This river had many names: the German called it the Santig River, the Slovenians called it the Soča River, and the Venetians called it the Isonzo River.

After crossing the river and passing through a hilly area, they would reach the Friuli Plain.

After dismounting from the bridge, Laszlo came to the roadside, his fingertips tracing the mottled Latin inscriptions on a broken stone tablet.

This was once a road built by the ancient Romans, connecting Aquileia and Emona.

Now, it was also an important passage for marching into Venice.

The midday sun bleached the limestone ground white, and the undulating rocky hills ahead resembled the spine of a giant beast.

"Your Majesty, we have obtained some food supplies in the city of Gorizia. Our current military provisions are sufficient for half a month," Quartermaster Klatte came to Laszlo's side at this moment to report, "but this area is sparsely populated, and the supplies the troops can obtain are very limited. The last batch of provisions raised domestically is still in transit. It is best for our army to enter the plains as soon as possible."

"Hmm, I understand."

Laszlo looked towards the riverbank; more than half of the Imperial Army had already crossed the river and were reorganizing their ranks.

The rear guard was the Austro-Hungarian Army commanded by Karl, responsible for protecting and transporting military supplies such as food and gunpowder.

"Send orders to Field Marshal Albrecht, instructing him to lead the vanguard forward first to clear obstacles for the follow-up troops."

The messenger immediately conveyed the Emperor's order to Albrecht.

Upon receiving the order, Albrecht led the vanguard force to advance rapidly.

The soldiers of the Imperial Army, carrying spears and greatswords, formed a long black dragon, winding forward along the rugged and narrow mountain path.

The dust raised by the warriors' feet formed a golden haze in the sunlight.

Many soldiers were filled with hope, for they heard that this cursed mountain terrain was finally coming to an end, and soon they would no longer suffer this torment.

Everyone was looking forward to setting foot on Venetian soil as soon as possible, to fight, to win, to plunder.

The wealth of Venice was renowned throughout Europe, and the mercenaries were convinced that they would make a fortune this time, their desire for wealth surpassing everything else.

After two days of difficult marching, Albrecht, riding a fine horse, stood atop a hill, looking at the boundless plains in the distance, and finally a smile appeared on his face.

The Venetians were, after all, a step too slow.

"Marshal, scouts have found traces of the Venetian army near the Natisone River. Judging by the scale of their encampment, their military strength is likely no less than twenty thousand, and they are less than half a day's march from our army."

His subordinate's report instantly wiped the smile from Albrecht's face, replaced by a calm and composed expression, subtly tinged with excitement.

"Order the troops to quicken their pace. We will set up camp on the plain today. Send someone to inform His Majesty that we have discovered the main force of the Venetians and that they should prepare."

"Yes!"

The Imperial Army finally set foot on the Friuli Plain, and the Venetian grand army also happened to arrive here after a rapid march from Treviso.

The two armies met on the plains in the lower reaches of the Natisone River, and a bloody battle was about to erupt.