Chapter 171: Taking the Netherlands

But no matter how fast Braggi could run, could he possibly outrun the four legs of a cavalry horse?

"Now that Braggi has been captured and the majority of the Netherlands army has been annihilated, it is the perfect time to seize the opportunity and advance. Order the soldiers to rest briefly, then we will march on the Netherlands capital, Brussels," Murat commanded.

Even though it was already evening and nightfall was approaching, he still hoped to leverage the momentum of their great victory and capture Brussels in one swift stroke.

Once Brussels was taken, the next step would be to deal with the remaining local forces of the Netherlands. Once these residual forces were completely eliminated, their mission would be considered accomplished.

"Yes, General," the staff officer immediately went to relay the orders.

After a brief rest, the French army began marching again, escorting nearly thirty thousand Netherlands prisoners of war as they made their way towards the heart of the Netherlands.

At this moment, in the executive government office in Brussels, Braggi's successor, Perle, was anxiously awaiting the outcome of the battle. The booming cannon fire from the south filled him with dread.

He was worried whether the Netherlands army could defeat the French cavalry. If the Netherlands army emerged victorious, it would be a cause for great celebration. However, if they were defeated, they would need to reconsider their plans.

Perle continued to wait anxiously for news from noon until sunset.

"Strange, why haven't we received any news yet?" Perle wondered.

"Sir, our forces are likely still engaged in fierce combat with the French army. After all, this is a battle involving tens of thousands of troops—it won't end easily," said a Netherlands government official nearby.

"Sir, no news is the best news. This at least means that we have not been defeated yet. However, in my opinion, our chances of victory are high. While the French army is strong, they are vastly outnumbered. They only have about ten thousand troops participating in the battle, whereas we have fifty thousand. In terms of sheer numbers, we outnumber them five to one. As long as we don't make any major mistakes, the final victory will surely belong to the Netherlands," another official next to Perle analyzed.

Perle nodded in agreement, fully endorsing the official's analysis. After all, from any perspective, the Netherlands had a significant chance of winning.

"Let's hope that Consul Braggi can secure the final victory," Perle sighed.

In reality, for him, the so-called successor to the consul, even a victory for the Netherlands in this battle would not benefit him much. Braggi had been too close to the British, which made Perle worry that the Netherlands, having just gained independence from the Austrians, might fall into the clutches of the British.

And the position of the Netherlands is really awkward. It is located between France and the UK, two military powers, and it can easily be dragged into wars between these two countries with a single misstep.

"Sigh!"

Thinking about this, Pele couldn't help but sigh. Where exactly is the future path of the Netherlands? Nobody knows.

But for now, the most important thing is the war in Muer, because this war determines whether the Netherlands can continue to be independent.

Just as Pele was contemplating the future of the Netherlands, a Dutch general suddenly rushed in with an anxious look on his face.

"Lord Pele, something has happened... something terrible."

"What's wrong? What happened? Is it that our frontline is not performing well? Speak quickly!" Pele asked anxiously.

"Lord Pele, we have been defeated. Fifty thousand troops have been annihilated by the French, and Prime Minister Bragi is missing. And... the French army has regrouped its forces. They are likely to attack Brussels," the Dutch general said with a grimace.

"What? How is that possible? Prime Minister Bragi had fifty thousand men! And Muer had only over ten thousand. How could our army be defeated, and so miserably?" Pele exclaimed loudly. This outcome was something he simply couldn't accept.

The Dutch military leaders beside him were also stunned. They had previously claimed that the Netherlands had a good chance of winning. But now, the reality had slapped them hard in the face! The French easily achieved victory on the battlefield, while the Netherlands, with fifty thousand troops, was completely annihilated.

"It's over, it's all over. What should we do?" Pele muttered.

These fifty thousand troops were the only fighting force of the Netherlands. Their complete annihilation by the French undoubtedly meant that their last hope was gone. At this moment, there were only less than two thousand police officers left in Brussels. If the French continued to advance towards Brussels, they would be no match at all.

"Lord Pele, things have come to this. Either we defend Brussels to the death and fight the French to the end, or we surrender to them," a Dutch nobleman said.

The former option would likely be a dead end, that was without any doubt. As for the latter, they would probably lose their current positions. But to save their lives, there shouldn't be much of a problem. After all, they had already surrendered. The French wouldn't likely exterminate them all. In that case, who would govern the Netherlands for them?

Listening to the words of his subordinates, Pele also became somewhat indecisive. Now, with the French army at the gates, should he fight to the last moment and become a hero of the Netherlands? Or should he surrender to the French and preserve his current wealth and status?

However, Muer wouldn't give him much time to think. Outside Brussels, Muer's cavalry had already surrounded the city, and Roland's infantry had arrived on the battlefield. He had brought a large number of cannons for the French army: one infantry division and three artillery battalions, totaling 54 cannons. These cannons were already deployed, aimed at Brussels, ready to fire at any moment, even as night was fast approaching. But Roland and Muer believed that taking the capital of the Netherlands before nightfall should still be achievable.

"Tell the defenders inside the city, either surrender immediately and open the gates, or after we capture Brussels, all Dutch officials will be severely punished," Muer ordered calmly from atop a white horse outside the city walls.

"Yes, General," a junior officer nodded.

Soon, a French officer rode to within two hundred meters of Brussels and used a trumpet to call out to the defenders inside. The French warned the Dutch garrison inside Brussels to either surrender immediately or face total annihilation after the city fell.

The French warning caused a stir among the Dutch troops inside the city. Before the attack on Brussels, Muer had ordered the release of some Dutch prisoners of war, intending for them to inform the remaining defenders inside the city of the formidable strength of the French army. The prisoners did not disappoint Muer; their accounts turned the French soldiers into almost demonic figures, impervious to bullets, who had annihilated fifty thousand troops in an instant. Hearing these tales, the already low morale of the defenders inside Brussels plummeted even further.

Finally, to completely break the spirit of the Dutch defenders, Muer even ordered his soldiers to bring the Dutch Prime Minister Bragi to the front lines between the two armies. Then, dismounting from his horse, Muer drew his command sword and held it to Bragi's neck, threatening, "Immediately announce to the defenders inside the city to surrender, or I'll chop your head off right now."

Feeling the cold steel of the sword on his neck, Bragi trembled in fear. Faced with the choice between dignity and survival, Bragi decisively chose the latter.