Crushing Defeat

Shortly after the battle erupted in the forest, Florian, who was constantly monitoring the surroundings with his elite light cavalry scouts, quickly received the news.

He made a decisive decision, not to order his men to abandon their wagons and cannons and rush into the forest for rescue, but to immediately turn around and choose a relatively open area to set up a Wagenburg.

After day after day, year after year of training, the tactics once popularized by the Hussite rebels had now become standard for the Imperial Army.

Upon receiving the order, the Imperial Army soldiers immediately began to adjust their wagons, set up the Wagenburg, and dig simple trenches and earthworks.

While the bloody fighting in the forest was still ongoing, a strong and reliable Wagenburg gradually took shape.

Florian rode around, seeing the musketeers standing ready on the wagons, and the cannons, ready to roar, hidden behind half-man-high heavy shields in the Wagenburg's gaps.

The cavalry, meanwhile, patrolled outside the Wagenburg, observing the situation on the battlefield.

At the two openings on the side of the Wagenburg, battle-hardened greatswordsmen and pikemen were ready to charge out of the Wagenburg and strike the enemy at any moment.

Everything was so coordinated that Florian was quite satisfied with the results of his military governance.

At this moment, a panting messenger, still covered in blood, accompanied by Eberhard, son of the Count of Württemberg, came before Florian.

"Sir, the enemy set up an ambush in the forest, and our army suffered heavy losses. The Archbishop requests that you immediately lead your army to rescue and support the main force, and return with them to rescue the Margrave of Baden."

Florian's already heavy heart grew even worse at this moment. He looked coldly at the messenger, then sighed softly and said, "Since you managed to escape, stay in the Wagenburg and rest. I will send other scouts to report the situation to the Archbishop."

With that, he waved his hand, and the guards immediately took the unwilling messenger away.

Eberhard suddenly spoke with indignation and grief, "Florian, are you just going to cower in this ridiculous fortress like a turtle, watching my father and the Archbishop fall into danger?

If you insist on being a coward, then I will lead men to save them myself!

I imagine even if you don't care about my father, if something were to happen to Bishop George of Metz, the Emperor probably wouldn't easily forgive you, would he?"

Florian's expression darkened. He had been quite polite to the Count's son, but he didn't expect him to be so thoughtless, letting his concern cloud his judgment.

If the Count of Württemberg, the Margrave of Baden, or even Bishop George of Metz truly died in the forest, the Emperor might symbolically punish him.

But if the Emperor knew he ordered his troops to abandon their wagons, baggage, and cannons, and rush into a chaotic forest battlefield with an unknown enemy, he would definitely be sentenced to hanging.

The Independent Army, as the first Imperial standing mercenary army personally assembled by the Emperor, held a very special place in the Emperor's heart.

He could not lead these Austrian elites into the forest to suffer losses in vain.

Thinking of this, he replied with a grim expression, "Your father likely left you here precisely because he anticipated this situation. You are the Count of Württemberg's only heir, and I will not let you charge in to your death.

I will send someone to investigate the situation and see if your father and the others can be rescued. As for you, stay put in the Wagenburg. Guards!"

Several strong Imperial Army soldiers immediately took control of the Count's son and his retinue; they would be taken to the central tent in the Wagenburg for "proper care."

Meanwhile, deep in the distant forest, a hellish scene unfolded before people's eyes.

The forest ground, recently washed by heavy rain, was muddy, and knights in heavy plate armor were knocked off their horses by the Palatinate ambushers, covered in filthy mud and water.

Many who fell to the ground were immediately pinned down by surging enemies, who stabbed daggers into the armor gaps, ending their precious lives.

In this narrow environment, warhorses and armor became the biggest burdens, and this cavalry force of about five hundred men, facing a surprise attack from Palatinate ambushers several times their number, was quickly slaughtered.

The Margrave of Baden leaned against a tree, his face filled with terror and pain, his former proud demeanor long gone.

One of his shoulders was stabbed, and blood dripped down his arm, staining the ground beneath his feet.

He had just seen his younger brother, Bishop George of Metz, surrounded by several Palatinate soldiers, then kneel and surrender.

He was met with a barrage of resentful punches and kicks, beating the gentle Bishop until he screamed repeatedly, like a wild boar.

Now it was his turn. Dozens of Palatinate soldiers surrounded him, holding sharp longswords or spears, gradually closing in on him.

Suddenly, these soldiers received an order to stop. A man who looked like a commander walked through the crowd and came before the Margrave.

The Margrave discovered that it was an old acquaintance of his—Wolfgang of the Leiningen family.

The Leiningen family was an ancient family in the Alsace region, but their power and influence were much weaker than Baden and Palatinate.

The family maintained friendly relations with both Baden and Palatinate, but this time they had clearly chosen to side with the Elector Palatine.

"Lay down your arms, Karl.

I will guarantee your safety, even if these soldiers know of your misdeeds and try to tear you to pieces,

but a noble Margrave should not die without dignity."

Wolfgang calmly advised the desperate Margrave of Baden.

The Margrave of Baden glanced around, finding that his knights were either dead or wounded, their bodies strewn across the muddy forest floor, and those still alive were prisoners.

The Margrave of Baden was willing to trust Wolfgang's promise; he had lost count of how many Palatinate villages he had burned these past days, and he did not want to fall into the hands of these mad and angry Palatinate peasants.

So he simply threw his longsword to the ground, choosing to surrender, but his words remained defiant: "Wolfgang, you will regret your choice today sooner or later. The Emperor is not someone you can resist!"

The taciturn Wolfgang was unwilling to argue with him, simply waving his hand dismissively.

Two warriors immediately restrained the Margrave of Baden, taking him to the rear of the battlefield to reunite with his brother, Bishop George of Metz, and receive medical treatment together.

Afterward, Wolfgang led his army to another battlefield to assist the Elector Palatine, who was ambushing the main force of the Imperial Army.

On the other side, the Count of Württemberg and Bishop George of Metz were still gathering their troops, fighting and retreating.

After a tough battle, they finally broke out of the forest with some of the troops who had rallied around them.

The remaining soldiers fled in disarray, turning the already chaotic battlefield into a muddled mess.

However, Hans, eager to exact revenge for the Elector Palatine, found the Count of Württemberg, who was fleeing like a wolf.

He personally led a part of the Elector Palatine's guard warriors, relentlessly pursuing them.

These elite Palatinate soldiers shouted like thunder, swinging their longswords and battle axes to cut down all the allied soldiers who stood in front of the Count of Württemberg.

The sight of blood stimulated everyone's nerves; the Count of Württemberg could even see the angry and hateful eyes of the Palatinate soldiers who rushed near him.

Just as the Count of Württemberg and Bishop George of Metz were about to fall into despair, they suddenly noticed that a seemingly sturdy fortress had appeared out of nowhere in the open ground outside the forest.

When they saw the double-headed eagle flag fluttering within the fortress, both of them were almost moved to tears.

Bishop George of Metz immediately whipped his mount hard, and the already exhausted warhorse now exerted its last ounce of strength, carrying the Archbishop back into the Wagenburg.

The Count of Württemberg followed suit, escaping the Palatinate army's entanglement with a few personal guards and fleeing into the Wagenburg.

Some bloodthirsty Palatinate pursuers chased the frantically fleeing allied stragglers all the way to the Wagenburg. "Bang! Bang! Bang!"

These stragglers and enemy soldiers were met with dense gunfire, a sound more deafening than any previous battle cry, startling a large flock of birds and leaving everyone who witnessed it dumbfounded.

All who dared to charge the Wagenburg head-on were riddled with bullets, the blood mist from the impacts still hanging in the air, carried away by the breeze along with the vast smoke shrouding the battlefield.

Hans looked with reluctance at the tightly defended Wagenburg and the ready Imperial Army.

He knew that even if all the Palatinate army attacked together, they might not be able to overcome this sturdy fortress, so he reluctantly ordered a halt to the pursuit.

On the battlefield of Seckenheim, the smoke gradually cleared, leaving only widespread devastation.

The groans of wounded soldiers and the neighing of warhorses intertwined into a tragic elegy, narrating the cruelty and unpredictability of this war.

The Imperial Army suffered an extremely painful defeat. The Margrave of Baden became a prisoner of the Elector Palatine, and the cavalry forces, except for the Imperial Army, were almost completely lost.

However, the only comforting news was that Bishop George of Metz and the Count of Württemberg, under the cover of the Wagenburg, gathered many fleeing soldiers, allowing the allied forces to recover somewhat.