I'm the king of scrolls at Hogwarts

The French army prepared for artillery fire with eighty cannons, not just the twenty-four twelve-pounders originally planned. But its power was not as frightening as Napoleon expected.

Meowlington still followed his old method of hiding the infantry behind the top of the hill. Most of the French artillery shells penetrated the rain-soaked mud on the front slope and caused no damage.

As we all know, artillery in this era basically used solid shells, and their lethality generally relied on ricochet to cause damage. That is, the shells hit the ground and bounced back, causing multiple kills.

Of course, for a cannonball to ricochet, the ground needs to be hard enough, otherwise it will get stuck in the mud. In addition, the incident angle must be kept as small as possible, so that it can be bounced. In order to ensure the incident angle, the cannons at that time generally used flat-firing cannons. Such cannons were also called cannons.

In weather like this after rain, it is almost impossible for artillery shells to cause the kind of damage Napoleon expected.

What is probably going on now? When the artillery sounded a second ago, all the British units were so frightened that they shrank their necks. When the shells hit the ground, there was no response. They shrank for a long time before they realized that the French artillery was a mine. The sound is loud and the raindrops are small.

Are you afraid of a hammer? A big orange cat who was in charge of the investigation happily poked his head around to see what was going on. As a result, his ear was pierced by a flying stone brought up by a cannonball.

Under the pain, he screamed in pain, but it didn't help. Who gave him a chance to kick?

It was still some time before Napoleon launched his formal attack. Under orders, the British soldiers took out the enamel jars hidden in their field backpacks. The people from the military commissary or the bored officers were holding the wine bottles and sharing the wine among each person. They were all given swigs of gin.

Enamel jars are a treatment only available to elite troops like the Guards. Like the Calico Cats regiment that Louis encountered before, they could only take out the large jars used for eating to fill wine.

"Come for a drink, men—drink it if you can," the troop officers shouted as they moved through the ranks.

Walking to the 72nd regiment where the little calico cat was, the officer looked at the little calico cat who was praying with a string of beads in his hand, stood in front of him with a wine bottle and asked: "Jack?"

"No, thank you, sir." Jack refused cautiously.

The officer said nothing, stretched out his cat's paw to rub his head, and continued walking aside.

After the officer left, a bicolor cat next to him held his big rice bowl and elbowed him: "Have a drink of gin, Jack, this is His Majesty's greetings."

As he said that, he added: "Remember to remind me to thank him the next time we go to the palace."

Jack did not answer and asked in a daze: "Lawrence, do you think... there will be many of them?"

Lawrence took a sip of wine and was aroused by the spicy taste. He calmed down for a moment before answering Jack's question: "I don't have clairvoyance, Jack, how can I know what's going on on the other side of the mountain? How about that?" You go over and ask, and you say, hey, damn French guys, how many people are you here? See if they will answer you..."

"After all, you are also unlucky. The first time you participated in the war, you met Napoleon, haha..." Lawrence saw that Jack didn't speak, and patted his head again: "Forget it, don't think about it, even if there are a hundred thousand people on the other side of the mountain , it’s not like you can persuade them to go back just by praying. If praying was useful, I don’t think we would form an anti-French alliance.”

Jack finally turned his head, looked at his talkative friend and asked curiously: "Aren't you afraid?"

"Nothing can terrify me but the presence of a talkative friend, my dear Jack," Lawrence replied, somewhat sinisterly.

As if he was really trying to dispel fear, he picked up his big rice bowl and took a big gulp of wine.

He also folded the bit of wine that belonged to Jack into his own rice bowl.

"I'd better drink it all, lest the French guys take it away later..." Lawrence just made up for himself and drank the rest of the wine in one gulp.

Following the commander's slogan of "Seventy-two regiments, advance!", Jack and Lawrence quickly put away their things, picked up rifles from the side, and joined the marching queue.

At the edge of the temporary command post, Meowlington also got on his horse, looked around, and shouted loudly: "Ubridge, where is Eubridge?"

"Here you are, Your Excellency." A silver tabby hurriedly emerged from the tent. He had just gone to relieve himself.

"Notify your darlings that it's time to attack... drive back the French guys who are pressing up, Meow." Meowlington ordered.

The "babies" refer to the Scottish Gray Dragoons under Eubridge's command, which is similar to a joke.

Eubridge quickly saluted and said yes, holding up his pants as he ran.

William Ponsonby, commander of the Union Brigade, was taking snuff with his adjutant when the order was given.

"Try this, it tastes very strong. Meow." Ponsonby took out a small box of snuff and watched the adjutant actually twisting out a pile. He couldn't help but reproached with distress: "Oh, please stop wasting a little more. This is The last ones are in stock, meow.”

After receiving the order to attack, he drew out his saber from his silver-gray cat claws and put it on his shoulder. He turned around and shouted: "It's now! Scottish Gray Dragoons, it's time!"

When the trumpeter heard the commander's order, he raised his head and raised his bugle, and began to play it loudly.

The Scottish cavalrymen who heard the trumpet drew their sabers in unison and put them on their shoulders.

When the Scottish cavalry attacked, Louis and Cromie were in the command post watching the battlefield situation. Since the command post has been reinforced with protective magic, there is no need to worry about any damage caused by artillery shells.

From a high-altitude perspective, the cavalry wearing tall bearskin hats advance in steps, gradually accelerating. From a distance, they look like a wave of black, red and gray colors, and the speed is getting faster and faster. The galloping horses Wrapped in thick smoke and dust, they rushed towards the artillery position of the French vanguard.

From time to time, cannonballs fell around them, bringing up bursts of smoke, but the Scottish cavalry continued to charge towards the target without fear.

Napoleon, who was standing next to the French command post, certainly noticed the charging cavalry. He looked ahead and seemed to be talking to himself.

"Those guys on gray horses look scary, meow."

"They are the cavalry with the noblest temperament but the worst command in Europe." Surte said next to him.

"Maybe, maybe." Napoleon repeated twice noncommittally, and then said: "Where are my Polish lancers? Order them to attack and let these British guys taste our power!"

The Polish Lancers received the order, and with the sound of the bugle, they all raised their spears and began to advance quickly in the direction of the Scottish Cavalry Mixed Brigade.

Eubridge, who was at a high place, also saw the conspicuous lancers. Now his intestines were almost turning green. He really shouldn't have sent the gray cavalry to attack the enemy's artillery positions so early. Now, this is not possible. Have you reached the heights of water waves?

But he never thought about it. If he didn't send this wave, what should he do with the artillery position that had threatened the Meowlington Army?

"Blow the retreat horn!" Eubridge immediately ordered the bugler on the side.

The bugler did as he was told, but the sound on the battlefield was too noisy, and the Scottish Gray Cavalry was also jealous. How could he hear his trumpet?

Meowlington was annoyed by the noise. The bugler was playing too hard, which made his ears hurt. He stretched out his cat's paw to dig at his ears, and almost yelled: "Stop blowing your useless trumpet!"

In fact, it was also a bit of personal emotion, and he obviously regretted it after sending out the Gray Cavalry.

As a result, the coalition army, which was already at a disadvantage in terms of cavalry, was even worse.

The trumpet cat put down the bugle in his hand and looked at Meowlington aggrievedly. He didn't understand how he made the Marshal angry.

Meowlington also knew that his behavior was inappropriate and that he was really not a gentleman. He apologized quickly: "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm just worried that you will hurt yourself."

The artillery fire became more and more rapid, and shells kept falling to the ground everywhere, bringing up patches of mud. The battlefield situation was too tense. Everyone was concerned about the fighting situation of the Scottish cavalry and their own safety, so that no one noticed that any shells were falling. The tent next to Meowlington disappeared strangely again.

It may also be that no one pays attention to Ye Ziyan's Muggle shielding spell, and Meowlington seems to have forgotten the existence of Louis and the others.

"Is there any trace of the Eternal Dragon?" Louis raised his eyes and glanced at Chromie, who was in a bored daze.

"No, it seems they have given up here." Chromie shook her head. During this time, she had been searching the maximum range she could scan, but unfortunately found nothing.

"Then we just wait here?" Louis was a little irritated. Not everyone can stay on the battlefield. The feeling of life disappearing every moment really made the atmosphere depressing to the extreme.

The only two dragons in the entire tent who could look at ease were Chromie and Christasa. The former, as a guardian of time, was used to such scenes of life and death, while the latter was careless.

Louis was fine, and Catherine was just a little pale, but Zi Yan couldn't accept this scene and returned to the original time and space first.

Thinking about it, this should be the reaction that normal people should have. After all, everyone is not a bloodthirsty maniac. It is a bit outrageous to be as careless as Krisstrasa.

"Little deer." Catherine's voice was very low, and her slender hands held Louis' shoulders.

Louis patted her slender waist and said nothing. In the blink of an eye, the French army made new moves.

Oh, it's a French army wandering around the periphery. It's not at Waterloo, but patrolling and conducting reconnaissance almost twenty kilometers away.

It was the Grouchi whom Mikloro mentioned before.

There are many theories in history, especially the works of the novelist Zweig, which seem to place all the blame on Grouchy. But who is right and who is wrong may not be so clear. At least he was looking for Brüsch outside. Sher, it was Napoleon's order.

Now, he was riding on a tall horse, holding a basket in his arms, picking strawberries from it to eat.

It looked quite fresh and he was quite happy to eat it.

The dull sound of cannons came. Grouchy pressed the basket on the saddle, looked around and asked: "Where are the cannons? Where are the cannons?"

"It's in the direction of Mont Saint-Jean, sir." Gérard, who was beside him, replied.

Grouchy was stunned for a moment, and after thinking for a moment, he replied with a calm "Oh."

"Your Excellency, the fighting seems to be fierce in the direction of Mont Saint-Jean. Should we..." Gérard asked eagerly. From the sound of cannons, he judged that there must be a big move there.

His beloved emperor didn't seem to have that much advantage against the coalition forces.

"I know you are in a hurry, but please don't be in a hurry, my general." Grouchy picked up the strawberry basket again and started to show off the strawberries in his mouth.

Gérard's face suddenly became ugly, and his two cat teeth were stuck out: "For God's sake, the sound of artillery is calling us! March in the direction where the sound of artillery is coming, we have three points with us. One of our troops, our duty is..."

Grouchy's face instantly darkened. He tilted his head and interrupted Gérard's words in a bad tone: "You don't need to teach me what our responsibilities are, general. The instructions I received from the emperor are clear. Just keep my sword chasing Blücher, meow.”

Gérard was really anxious. Grouchy's calm demeanor really made him doubt this person's current status. He scratched his neck angrily and even sprayed saliva on Grouchy's strawberry: "If you're not going to march to the sound of the cannon, then let me!"

"Split my army? Huh... Meowlanxi's law will sentence me to death." Grouchi remained unmoved, still eating strawberries comfortably.

"You..." Gérard was choked and couldn't say a word. He could only point at Grouchy tremblingly, and then put it down dejectedly after a long while.

(You will become Miao Lanxi's sinner, Grouchi...)

Gérard, who had difficulty changing his coach's mind, could only look up to the sky and sigh, silently praying for the emperor and Meow Lanxi.

…

While Grouchy remained unmoved, Duke Meowlington and Napoleon discovered at the same time that in the distance of the main battlefield of Waterloo, a force of about five to six thousand people was marching towards the battlefield.

"Rabe Doyer!" cried Napoleon.

Duvalier stepped forward, and Napoleon handed him the telescope, pointing in the direction of the unknown troops he saw: "What is that moving?"

"I saw some troops marching in column over there, about five or six thousand people..." General Duval replied.

"He's right," Soult added from behind.

The telescope effect of this era is not particularly ideal, and it is really impossible to see anything clearly from a distance. Napoleon couldn't figure out whose troops they were, so he could only ask the generals on the side: "Whose troops are they? Are they ours or Prumiao's?"

"This..." Generals, you looked at me and I looked at you. From this distance, it was impossible to see clearly the uniforms of the troops. For a moment, everyone didn't know how to answer.