I Reincarnated as a Prince Who Revolutionized the Kingdom

March 25th, 1701. The flames of Masséna's burning supply wagons flickered against the night sky, their embers drifting into the wind like silent warnings. Marshal Armand Roux stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the charred remains, his cavalry having already retreated into the jungle. Their raid had been a success, but his expression was far from triumphant. He knew Masséna wasn't beaten. Not yet. Behind him, Captain Étienne Giraud dismounted from his horse, brushing soot off his jacket. "That should slow them down," he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. Roux didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the enemy camp below, where Elysean soldiers were scrambling to assess the damage. Then, finally, he murmured, "No. It won't." Giraud frowned. "We burned half their food and ammunition. Without supplies, they can't hold out for long." Roux turned to him, his jaw tightening. "You still don't see it, do you?" Giraud's expression hardened. "See what?" Roux took a deep breath. "Masséna let us destroy those supplies." Silence. Vasseur, who had just approached, overheard the words and stiffened. "Let us?" Roux nodded. "Think about it. A general of his caliber doesn't leave his supply lines exposed like that—not unless he wants us to hit them." Giraud paled slightly. "Then… what was the real objective?" Roux clenched his fists. "He's drawing us in." Everything was starting to make sense. Masséna knew Roux wouldn't engage him in a head-on fight. He knew Roux relied on mobility, on striking fast and withdrawing before a decisive battle could take place. So Masséna had set a different kind of trap. Instead of forcing Roux into battle, he had given him a target. One that Roux couldn't ignore. The supply raid had been Roux's move. Now it was Masséna's turn. March 26th, 1701. Dawn. The jungle was quiet. Too quiet. Lieutenant Adrien Vasseur led a small scouting party through the undergrowth, their movements cautious, rifles at the ready. They had expected to find an enemy force trying to recover their losses. Instead, they found nothing. No tracks. No encampments. Masséna was gone. Vasseur swallowed, a pit forming in his stomach. This was wrong. He turned to his second-in-command, a native scout named Tahu. "Something's off. The Elyseans should be reinforcing their position after last night." Tahu narrowed his eyes, sniffing the air. "No fresh fires. No scent of horses." He shook his head. "They didn't stay here." Vasseur's pulse quickened. "Then where the hell did they go?" A horn sounded in the distance. Vasseur stiffened. Then—gunfire. The crack of musket shots echoed through the jungle, followed by distant shouting. One of his scouts turned, eyes wide. "That's coming from the main camp!" Vasseur's heart dropped. Masséna hadn't waited. He had struck first. "Back to camp!" Vasseur shouted. They turned and ran. The first explosion shattered the dawn. Marshal Roux barely had time to react before the entire northern perimeter of Fort Saint-Louis erupted into chaos. The Elyseans were attacking. Roux sprinted toward the ramparts as cannon fire roared in the distance. Smoke was already rising over the jungle's edge, where Masséna's forces had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. How? Giraud stormed up beside him, his rifle in hand. "How the hell did they flank us?!" Roux's mind raced. They had tracked Masséna's forces in the jungle. They had anticipated his next move. So how had he slipped past them? Then it hit him. Masséna had never been in the jungle. The entire time, he had distracted them with supply raids and false movements. Meanwhile, he had split his army, taking his main force directly toward the fort. Roux cursed under his breath. Masséna had turned the battlefield upside down. "Sound the alarm!" Roux bellowed. "Get the men to the walls!" The fort's bells rang out as Elysean artillery opened fire. Cannonballs tore through wooden barricades, splinters flying like deadly shrapnel. The siege had begun. From his position on a hill overlooking Fort Saint-Louis, Masséna watched with cold expression. Everything had gone according to plan. His decoy movements had lured Roux into believing the real battle would take place in the jungle. But while Roux was busy playing guerilla warfare, Masséna had led his elite forces straight to the fort. Now, with his artillery in place, he would smash through its defenses before Roux could regroup. Colonel Devereux approached, musket slung over his shoulder. "The bombardment is effective, but they're holding." Masséna smiled. "They won't hold for long." He turned to the signal officer. "Prepare the second wave." Devereux frowned. "A frontal assault?" Masséna's gaze never wavered. "Roux expects me to break his defenses from a distance. He believes I'll spend days bombarding him." Devereux nodded. "So we do the opposite?" Masséna smirked. "Exactly." He turned toward the battlefield, eyes gleaming. "We take the walls today." The first wave hit the walls like a tidal wave. Roux stood his ground, shouting orders as muskets fired from the ramparts. His native warriors fought with bows and spears, striking down Elysean soldiers as they scaled the walls with ladders. Giraud reloaded his rifle, firing into the mass of enemy troops. "They're coming in too fast!" Roux knew why. Masséna wasn't waiting for a prolonged siege. He was here to break them immediately. He had to act now. Roux turned to Vasseur. "Get the reserves! We reinforce the east wall!" Vasseur saluted and sprinted into the fort's inner defenses. Roux's hands tightened around his saber. Masséna wanted a decisive battle? Then Roux would give him one. The battle raged for hours. The walls of Fort Saint-Louis shook under cannon fire. Elysean troops swarmed the defenses, their bayonets clashing with Roux's rebels. Masséna pushed forward relentlessly. He never stopped moving, leading his men into the bloodiest parts of the battle. Roux met him head-on, fighting in the thick of the fray. Then— A deafening explosion. One of the fort's eastern gates collapsed. Masséna's forces poured through. Roux turned, his expression grim. The battle was shifting. If he didn't act now, it would be over. He made a split-second decision. "Fall back to the inner keep!" Roux shouted. Giraud's eyes widened. "We're retreating?" "Not retreating," Roux growled. "We're regrouping." Masséna had won the first engagement.