Exhausted

Late at night, inside the main camp at the center of the Wagenburg, Adolf, the Count of Württemberg, and Florian sat around a table, their faces terribly grim.

Adolf wanted to question Florian about why he didn't promptly rescue the allied army that had been ambushed, but remembering that Florian had just saved his life, he didn't have the heart to speak.

Meanwhile, the Count of Württemberg was lamenting his losses, already regretting his rash decision.

He shouldn't have gotten involved in these messy affairs; how could the land of Palatinate be so tempting?

He and the Margrave of Baden had both failed to control themselves, but his outcome was at least better than the Margrave of Baden's.

Florian, on the other hand, was worried about the Emperor's reprimand. Although the outcome of this battle had little to do with him, a defeat was still a defeat, which greatly annoyed him.

After a long silence, the three began to discuss their next moves: what should they do tomorrow?

Should they continue to foolishly plunge into the forest, or should they retreat first to observe the situation?

They quickly reached a consensus.

The next morning, the allied army began to orderly retreat south along their original march route, intending to return to Bretten first. There, they would repair weapons, replenish supplies, recruit troops, and then launch another attack on Palatinate.

Due to the advantage of the ambush, the Elector Palatine's army suffered far fewer casualties than the allied forces, but their situation had not improved much.

Urgent requests for aid continuously came from the weakened northern defense line. The Archbishop of Trier's army was rampaging through northern Palatinate, and the Count of Nassau's army had even appeared near Mainz.

Frederick I immediately decided to leave a portion of his army to defend the capital, Heidelberg, as well as the important Rhine River towns of Mannheim and Worms.

Despite his own injuries, he resolutely decided to personally lead the main army north, intending to first repel the Archbishop of Trier, who had invaded Palatinate, and then deal with the weaker Count of Nassau.

Before departing, the Elector Palatine had one last thing to do.

Flickering torches illuminated the damp walls of the Mannheim dungeon, casting shifting shadows, and the stench of decay and mold permeated the air.

The Elector Palatine, Frederick I, holding a silver candelabra, entered the cell where Margrave Karl I of Baden was imprisoned, escorted by two guards.

The Margrave sat on a simple wooden stool. Despite his tattered prison uniform and disheveled hair, his expression remained calm, exuding an innate aristocratic pride.

"Karl, look at your current predicament. I wonder if you will repent for your atrocities." Frederick placed the candelabra heavily on the dusty stone table, the candlelight flickering violently with the movement. "The dungeon is not a place to stay long. As long as you agree to my terms, you can regain your freedom."

The Margrave of Baden slowly rose, brushed the dust from his clothes, and coldly replied, "Frederick, just say what you mean. Don't beat around the bush."

Frederick crossed his arms, his gaze sharp: "It's simple. You must return all illegally occupied Palatinate lands, cede both castles north of Durlach and all land to Palatinate, and pay 100,000 rhineland thaler in reparations and ransom. Then I will let you go."

Upon hearing this, the Margrave glared furiously at Frederick: "This is blackmail! Frederick, you won't be triumphant for long. The Emperor will never let you off, and you can forget about occupying Baden's land!"

Frederick showed no intention of backing down, his tone growing harsher: "Karl, you have no right to bargain now!

Your army has been defeated by me, and you are now my prisoner.

If you don't agree, you will never leave this place.

As for the Emperor, you should worry about yourself first."

The Margrave of Baden paced back and forth in the small cell, his anger and unwillingness intertwined.

He stopped and looked directly into the Elector Palatine's eyes: "I will not agree to your terms.

This is shameless blackmail!

I will wait for the Emperor's army to rescue me, and at that time, I hope you won't be on your knees begging for my forgiveness."

Frederick snorted coldly, approaching Karl: "It seems you haven't recognized the situation. The dungeon is not a pleasant place. You have plundered so many of my territories, I don't mind letting you stay here longer, until you think clearly."

With that, Frederick said no more and turned to leave, his face cold.

Unlike the Margrave of Baden, his brother, the Bishop of Metz, quickly agreed to pay a hefty ransom and withdraw from this terrible war.

After dealing with this pair of suffering brothers, Frederick found himself about to set off to deal with the last of the three Baden brothers.

The Margrave of Baden's brother, the Bishop of Metz's older brother, Archbishop John II of Trier, von Baden.

This made the usually calm and composed Elector Palatine unable to help but curse aloud. Although he had always disliked the Baden family, it was only now that he realized how disgusting this family truly was.

As the Palatinate army embarked on its northward journey, a series of new battles were about to erupt.

Meanwhile, in distant Innsbruck, everything was so peaceful.

Laszlo had gathered some loyal nobles from Austria, German, Bohemia, Hungary, and even Italy, inviting them to Innsbruck for a gathering, hunting, and summer retreat.

A gentle breeze swept through the valley, and the Emperor's eagle banner fluttered in the wind. Beneath the eagle banner were magnificent tents.

Inside the tents, soft carpets were laid, and exquisite tables and chairs were arranged.

Laszlo and some important nobles sat together, enjoying a sumptuous feast and fine wine.

Melodious music drifted from the tents, accompanied by laughter and intertwined with the birdsong of the mountains.

General Ester, who suddenly entered the camp, broke the joyous atmosphere. He held a piece of paper and hurried to the Emperor, presenting the item in his hand to him.

"Your Majesty, this is an urgent military report from Vienna."

Upon hearing this, the relaxed and cheerful expression on Laszlo's face vanished. He immediately unfolded the report and carefully read its contents.

The nobles saw the Emperor's changing expression and tightly furrowed brows, feeling somewhat worried and curious, but no one dared to ask.

After reading the report, Laszlo let out a long sigh, his brows relaxing. The tense atmosphere that had been suppressed to the extreme suddenly dissipated.

The disastrous defeat described at the beginning of the report did make Laszlo somewhat nervous and annoyed.

However, when he saw that the Imperial Army suffered minimal losses, Laszlo first breathed a sigh of relief. At the end of the report, Field Marshal Adolf gave his assessment: the defeat at the Battle of Seckenheim might prolong the war, but it would absolutely not change the outcome of the war.

Seeing this, Laszlo finally relaxed. Thinking carefully, this might even be a good thing.

The Margrave of Baden and the Count of Württemberg, having suffered a crushing defeat, had their strength greatly diminished, and their influence would also be weakened. From now on, they would probably have no choice but to rely on him, the Emperor, with greater deference.

This undoubtedly greatly reduced the obstacles to controlling and integrating Alsace, Baden, and Swabia.

As for the very capable Elector Palatine, Laszlo was not too worried.

A mere Holy Roman Empire prince, no matter how capable he was, could he be more formidable than the Ottoman or France?

The Empire is not just about fighting and killing; to get by, you need influence and backing.

Since the Elector Palatine defeated Laszlo's dogs, he was qualified to receive the Emperor's attention, though this attention was clearly not a good thing for the Elector Palatine.

Laszlo put away the report and smiled again, waving his hand casually.

"Continue the music, continue the dance."