4 Mai, 1757

Gilbert raised his arms and arched his back, hearing a loud pop as he did so. He sighed and began rubbing his stiff neck with his gloved hand. Several days on top of a horse, eyes surveying and mind constantly alert, really took a toll on his body. But alas, marching your men through mountain trails for days on end was part of the life he had chosen. It wasn't his favorite part, but it was always necessary.

He glanced around his surroundings, eyes scanning over the rocky trails still ahead of them. The trails were partially covered by dense foliage. Thank goodness these mountains were used for mining; otherwise there wouldn't be such wide, clear trails that were large enough to march an army through (or a fourth of an army as it was).

During the winter, King Frederick had spent a good deal of time planning further defenses of their territory, as well as their next plan of attack. They were now on their way to Bohemia. The main army had been separated into four divisions to scale the Ore Mountains that separated their claimed territories of Saxony and Silesia from Bohemia.

Dividing the army was a risky move; however, the mountains were easy to travel through while still providing enough coverage to hide their movements from their enemies. Besides, when they reached the converging point in a few days, Gilbert was confident that they would be able to merge undisturbed.

"Beilschmidt."

Gilbert turned to see a man atop a brown steed, steadily trotting towards him. He wore the dark blue Prussian uniform, clad with a white sash and a few medals across his chest. Strapped at his waist was his decorated saber, and a special baton, which (if not obvious by his uniform) signified the rank of a Field Marshal. Gilbert guessed he was in his seventies." If you go with this form, the next two sentences should be combined: "His round, soft face was framed by a curled, powered wig and topped by a black hat. Despite the kindness of his face, his eyes glittered with fierce intelligence

"Field Marshal Schwerin." Gilbert responded, politely nodding his head as the man approached.

Once Gilbert had returned from his short Christmas trip in Austria, he and his regiment had been put under the command of this man, apparently with the recommendation of Frederick.

Schwerin was nearly as famous as King Frederick himself, having served among the Prussian military since before the King's ascension. He had served as a Field Marshal ever since the beginning of the Silesian wars and had soon retired after the second Silesian War ended in 1745. However, he must have not cared much for the carefree life of retirement, because as soon as war started up again, he was once again leaping to join in on the war front.

Gilbert had been honored to serve alongside a man who happened to be one of the King's best leaders, advisors, and even friends. He had only been with the man for 5 months, and he had already learned so much from him. If anyone said there was an age limit to serve in battle, they would be shut up in a second by Schwerin.

"We are to stand by here for now." Schwerin began. "We've received a messenger from Bevern's force. They should be joining us here in a few hours."

Gilbert couldn't help but grin at the news. Marshal von Bevern's forces had entered Bohemia earlier, running into an Austrian corps near the town of Reichenberg, and had destroyed them. It had been obvious that these Austrians were inexperienced against von Bevern's leadership.

Schwerin continued.

"Once merging here, we are to march another day and converge with Frederick's and Prince Moritz's corps near Prague.."

Gilbert nodded.

"Have the scouts returned yet?" he asked.

"Yes. Apparently the Austrians have retreated towards Prague, and are concentrating their armies to the east. Anyways, these are details to discuss with the king. For now, get your men ready to camp and get some lookouts situated.

Gilbert nodded again and gave a polite solute. "I'm on it."

He turned on his horse and began towards his where his regiment was stationed.

o00o00o00o

6 Mai, 1757 (2 days later)

It was still dark out. Too early for the sun to rise, and yet, there the entire Prussian army waited, a total of some 115,000 men. Normally, even with his military training, he would still be a tad drowsy with how early it was, but not today. Today was the day they finally would strike.

Just as Schwerin had said before, Bervern's force had met up and merged with theirs. After that they had made it into Bohemia and joined up with the remaining half of the army, just as the king had planned. Everything had gone perfectly. With how things were, Bohemia's capital was pretty much already in the Prussian's grasp. He doubted it would take long to take Prague. The only thing standing in their way now was the Austrian army just east of the city.

King Frederick had already sent Field Marshal Keith and his force of 30,000 to the west in order to cut off any possible retreat from the Austrians. Once their presence had been detected by the Austrians, they had arranged their forces, facing towards the north and east. Frederick had initially ordered an immediate assault; however, with some counsel from Schwerin, a reconnaissance had been made to scope around the right flank of the Austrian army.

Gilbert was antsy. He couldn't wait for a good fight. Sure the reconnaissance was a smart choice to make in order to learn more about their enemy's position, but a part of him wished the immediate assault had been ordered. He hadn't seen blood since last October during their first encounter with Austrian forces at Lobositz.

The sun had begun to rise by the time Gilbert noticed the men returning from their mission. His heart began to pound excitedly and he couldn't contain the grin sliding over his lips. He watched as Frederick and a few of his Field Marshals gathered together, listening to the report. Once the report was through, the men departed back among their ranks, as their leaders conversed with one another. After a few minutes, a plan was apparently agreed upon, and each man departed to their own ranks.

Gilbert perked up as he noticed Schwerin riding towards him, anxious to hear the plan.

"There's a sloping meadow towards the Austrian right flank. If we charge from there, we'll have a good shot at the rear. Your regiment along with five other infantry regiments will be beginning the charge. Winterfeldt's infantry will be leading"

A satisfied grin swept over his face.

"Get your men in position. We're about to march."

"Sir!" Gilbert replied.

Schwerin smiled as well, obviously noticing Gilbert's enthusiasm. He reached a hand out and patted Gil's shoulder.

"I like your spirit! Good luck out there lad. I'll be in the charging force as well."

"Danke sir! It'll be a pleasure fighting beside you."

With those last words, Schwerin gave him another nod before withdrawing his hand and leading his steed away to inform the rest of the regiments of their plan of attack.

Gilbert watched as the Marshal's horse disappeared among the crowd. Gilbert would have to admit that Schwerin was probably the second coolest old man of the army. First was Fritz of course, even if the two were some 30 years apart, age wise.

Gilbert turned and began barking out to his Majors and Captains. Another game was about to begin. All the pieces had to be ready.

o00o00o00o

Roughly three hours. Three hours was how long it took for the Austrians to notice the navy blue lining the horizon from their right flank. From their positions, it was a straight shot to the Austrian forces. All that was left for them was to march their infantry into the empty stretch of meadow before them, and then up the steady slope which the Austrians had their forces lined up on.

Gilbert rode on his horse just in front of his regiment, eyes scanning over both the Austrians, and his allies carefully, waiting for the first sign of movement. The Austrians appeared to be adjusting their position, not being prepared for an assault on their right flank. However, other than turning their infantry and creating more lines, they didn't move from their position down the slope. Looks like the first attack belonged to the Prussians.

Not a moment later, a large column of soldiers broke off from the front of the Prussian's right flank, marching steadily towards the enemy with their rifles already up and ready to fire on command.

Gilbert recognized it as Winterfeldt's regiment. And with this first move, came the next. Schwerin rose his saber, signaling for all commander under him to charge. Gilbert did just that, mimicking Schwerin's movements and ordering his regiment to march.

As the entirety of Schwerin's infantry began their march upon the Austrian forces, the steady explosions of gun and cannon fire began. Smoke began to hang in the air and the searing sound of musket balls sliced through the air, taking down men from both sides.

Not having their artillery with them, Gilbert noticed they were at a slight disadvantage, seeing as the Austrians had theirs to take out men, but overall, their march was going smoothly. The Austrians weren't as prepared for the attack as they ought to have been.

Gilbert let his men filter around him and his horse, allowing them to fire without having to worry about their Colonel taking the hit. The troops had begun to swarm into the meadow that separated the two forces. Gilbert smirked at how easy this was. The Austrians had chosen a poor position and with how things were going with the march, they should be able to take the right flank with minimum casualties.

However, his satisfaction was short lived. He rushed his horse forward, into the field, only for the horse to suddenly catch his leg and stumble forward. Thankfully he caught itself, quickly fixing its stance, but Gilbert had not been so lucky. The unexpected jolt sent him bowling head first over his steed, causing him to land on his back in the mud.

Gilbert was motionless for just a second, complexly shocked at what had just happened. Then getting his sense back to him, he sat up, sending an icy glare towards the animal. Why was it that he always found himself being sent flying off his horses?! Falling off his steed was not good for a Colonel's image! Not at all!

Gilbert dug his palms into the slick mud as he stood himself up, careful not to slip or get his foot stuck in the wet earth. Wait a minute….wet?

Gilbert spun around, eyes scanning over the field. His eyes widened as he watched the soldiers before him struggling to march in the wet earth. They had slowed considerably, the marshy terrain surprising them, slowing not only their movements but their shots.

Gilbert grit his teeth angrily. 'Meadow'? Meadow his foot! This was a freaking marsh! The undisturbed soil masked its true identity until they had set foot in it. Their lines were slowed and confused. Gilbert even noticed a few men slipping in the mud and others even finding a foot knee deep in mud and murky water.

Gilbert turned back towards his horse, who tossed his head side to side and nervously stomping its hooves in the soil, obviously not comfortable with the new terrain. Gilbert made a low growl. The beast would cause him more problems than good. At this point he'd be better on foot. Then his slow and clumsy movements wouldn't make him an easy target for sharpshooters.

He pulled its reins so that it faced the direction they had come, and slapped his hand on its hide, getting the creature to hurriedly gallop away. Gilbert turned and retrieved his fallen musket. Thankfully it had fallen on drier ground. It would have proved him useless if the gunpowder had gotten wet. He wiped off what mud had gotten on the barrel and continued to march forward.

Most of his men had marched ahead of him, and were still struggling to get through the marsh and even wavering a bit. It was obvious the Austrians had noticed the Prussian's confusion, as their gunfire increased.

Gilbert trudged quickly through the mud along the lines of his wavering forces.

"Come on men! We're Prussians! Act like it!" He hollered to his men. "Don't let a little mud slow you down! Take these Austrians down!"

Gilbert reached out and steadied a man who had just began to stumble by his shoulders, releasing him once he had regained his foothold.

"Come on! Onward!" Gilbert hollered once again, running along his men, who helped those close by, but not all could see or even hear him. Ah, the disadvantage of not having a horse.

All in all, they weren't doing well. More men went down, being hit by ether a musket ball or being blown away by a colliding cannon ball, creating explosions of earth as it hit the ground. A few musket balls even flew past Gilbert, just barely missing him. One had even slid just passed his left ear, slicing it open as it zoomed by, making his ear drum ring. He winced at the sudden pain in his head and at the warm liquid dripping down his head and neck, but continued forward with heavy feet while firing his musket at the Austrian lines.

Gilbert growled. He needed to rally the men, but in his position, he could do little but scream orders and empty words of encouragement.

Suddenly brown flashed past the side of Gilbert's vision. He turned his head towards the horse which raced as well as it could through the marshy grounds. He soon noticed that the man was Schwerin, who was currently attempting what Gilbert had tried. He was rallying the men, yelling strong words of encouragement. He stopped his horse in front of the lines, raising his saber, and in a powerful, steady voice, hollered, "Let all brave Prussians follow me!"

In that bleak situation, Gilbert couldn't help but grin and press forward. His chest began to burn with a the essence of pride and determination. They were Prussian, dang it! They would not let some wimpy Austrians take them down! Not without taking them down with them!

Suddenly, Gilbert heard a familiar whistle in the air. It was one that was commonly heard on the battlefield, but he didn't like where the whistling came from. It was close, but not to him.

His head spun around, and his eyes widened frantically. As if in slow motion, he watched the black blotch in the sky grow nearer and louder.

"Schwerin!" Gilbert screamed, breaking off into a run towards his commander.

Schwerin had been too focused encouraging his wavering men to notice the approaching whistle until it was too late. He turned his head in the projectiles direction, just as the cannon ball made contact with the man's chest.

Gilbert watched in horror as the man he had come to deeply respect and trust, was flown several meters off his horse's back. A sickening crack filled the air as the metal ball crushed the Marshal's chest in. It all happened in a mere second, but it was all too clear to Gilbert. Schwerin's body crashed into the ground with another wet crack and thud, sliding a few feet in mud before stopping completely. Everything suddenly became far too still for Gilbert's liking.

Gilbert ran as fast as he could to the fallen body, ignoring the rapid whinnies of the Marshal's startled horse and the cries of the nearby men. He knelt down on the wet ground, feeling cold water creeping into his clothing. But none of that mattered at the moment. Gilbert's heart raced and his whole body felt stiff, cold even.

He turned Schwerin over so he lay on his back, wiping away mud off of his wrinkled face. There was practically a crater in the man's chest. Gilbert knew he must have died before he had even touched ground, but even so, he found himself unconsciously reaching his hand to his throat, searching for a pulse that he knew could no longer be there.

Around them, though their commander had fallen, the chaos continued. In fact, it seemed to intensify, as movement began from the Austrian side, pushing the weakened Prussian forces back down the slope that they so literally fought to climb.

Gilbert felt as if his heart tightened as he took in his next deep breath. Most of the men had continued to press forward even after their leader's death, most still completely unaware, but a few had dropped down next to Gilbert, eyes wide in horror as they stared at the corpse of their oldest commander. Gilbert turned to a few of the men, his sudden hard gaze making the men flinch.

"Get him out of here!" he barked.

"But sir, he's already-"

Gilbert cut off the soldier's flustered statement with another glare.

"Get. Him. Out."

The men were flustered but understood, giving a polite nod to Gilbert before lifting the corpse. Gilbert watched for a moment as the men carried Schwerin's corpse from the battle field, and then turned back to the battle field, musket in hand.

He would not mourn. Not here. Not now. This was neither the time nor the place for it. This was the battlefield after all, though it served as the death bed for many, it did not serve as a burial ground. If one forgot and began to mourn on the battlefield, not only was it utter disrespect to those who had fallen, but it could get you killed as well.

Gilbert began to stomp forward. He was a brave Prussian, he would not fall back. Frederick's forces were now arriving from their rear, a clear sign that his King was determined to press on with the assault. If their orders were to press on, then he would.

A pitiful neigh suddenly caught Gilbert's attention from amongst the chaos. He turned and saw a lone, confused horse trotting some 50 yards behind him. It was clear the animal was confused. He immediately recognized the steed to be Schwerin's. She was a seasoned war horse, and without her rider, she wandered aimlessly among the men and marshes.

Gilbert started to jog quickly toward her, checking around him for any artillery headed in his direction. Thankfully there was enough cover from his own infantry that he was able to reach the horse quickly and safely. Upon reaching her, he snatched up the reigns and hopped atop the saddle. The horse was a little shocked to say the least, but she immediately set to action when Gilbert dug his heels into her side and whipped the reigns. He raced towards the front lines of his regiment, careful of the horse's footing on the loose soil, as he screamed out orders to continue.

For as bad of a position they were in, being pressed back and rained upon by Austrian fire, Gilbert had to be proud of how organized his men still were. It didn't take long to rally them back into their columns and march forward. Not to mention the added assistance from Frederick's forces on the left flank helped immensely.

Parts of the infantry had already run out of ammo, and had decided to physically engage against the Austrians by using their bayonets and swords to stab at each other. The Austrians too seemed to be firing less, but continued to force the Prussian forces back down the slope.

Being low on ammo themselves, Gilbert ordered his regiment to engage as well. He led his troops forward, grabbing his pistol and shooting a few Austrian soldiers who had attempted approaching him. Soon he too, had his saber out, chopping down any man he could.

In the distance, a regally dressed man caught his eye. He too sat upon a horse as he shouted out orders. Gilbert didn't recognize him of course, but he could tell the other was an important Austrian commander. No less than a Colonel at least, but Gilbert bet that he was most likely a General, maybe even Marshal.

Gilbert leapt from his horse, using some unsuspecting Austrian soldiers to soften his landing. He slapped this beast away from him, no longer needing it in such close combat. He turned and once again already found himself with a few of his men forming themselves around him once again, watching his blind spots for him as he fought through the crowd.

Gilbert carefully fought through the Austrians, trying to not make it apparent as to who he was heading towards. However, he was provided with more than just a few soldiers to cut down first, as his decorated uniform tipped most off to his higher status. But he couldn't blame the men for that, after all, that's what he was doing.

He watched from a distance as the Austrian commander prepares another column of his troops for a bayonet charge. Gilbert crept out from the center of the fighting, positioning himself in a spot that was visibly blocked by some charging soldiers. He grabbed his rifle which had been slung onto his back, pointing it towards his target. Gilbert had always been better at the sword rather than sharp shooting, but this was a chance he could give up.

Gilbert waited a few minutes, not yet having a clear enough shot. This man was guarded well, and of course he would be wary of sharpshooters aiming to take his life. However, there was a split second where he left himself open. It was just the slightest moment, but Gilbert was ready, and he took it.

His rifle fired; smoke wafting from the barrel from the ignited gunpowder which sent the metal ball soaring through the air. Just a moment later, the man fell back from his horse, the ball making contact in his upper stomach, and disappeared from view.

Gilbert couldn't help but give a victorious chuckle. A marshal for a marshal. Sounded fair enough to him.

o00o00o00o

7 Juni 1757

"I hope Ludwig doesn't ever notice this." Gilbert muttered to himself as he sat atop his cot inside his tent, eyes trained on the reflection in the small mirror he held. He tilted his head and rubbed his fingers over the half inch horizontal scar along his left ear. Though it had healed nearly completely since he sustained it a month ago, it did look a bit off, as if the stitches hadn't been lined up correctly.

"It's not too noticeable." Gilbert finally decided, huffing. "After all, whoever looks at someone's ears? Plus it should probably be faded by the time Luddy ever sees it."

Gilbert placed the mirror down atop his wooden chest and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. Besides not wanting his brother to see it after his reaction to his other scars, Gilbert kind of liked it. And frankly, he was surprised that a sliced ear had been his only wound in that battle

Though things had looked quite bleak at the start of the battle, it had suddenly been turned around at the end. Frederick and Zieten had reorganized their infantry to the south and fought off the Austrians there. The Austrians, while their attentions were on Schwerin's forces, were oblivious to a gap that had formed in their forces. Bevern and General Hautcharmoy spotted the gap before the Austrians and quickly filtered their infantry through it.

It wasn't long before the entire Prussian army was upon the Austrians, having them surrounded at nearly every position. The Austrians had pulled back and with further infantry attacks from their side, the Austrians had begun to retreat into the city. The Prussians had tried to outflank their retreat, but their attacks were covered by an attack from the Austrian cavalry, allowing the entire force to hide behind the walls of Prague.

Gilbert snatched up his hat and placed it on his head before departing from his tent. He stepped outside to the crisp, warm morning air. He took in a deep breath before departing among the rows of tents. As he walked, his eyes couldn't help but glance to the side, scanning over the tall walls of the city not half a kilometer away.

For containing the largest population in Bohemia, along with the a good portion of the Austrian army, it was pretty quiet. At least from the outside it was. The plan after all, had been to capture Prague. It was the same plan that they had made for Pirna, yet things did not work out the same in both locations.

Once the battle had ended and the Austrians had retreated, Frederick had decided against attacking the city. After all, they had taken up heavy casualties. Last Gilbert heard, the count had been over 14,000. With that amount of their army depleted, there was no way they could risk losing more while attempting an attack on the city walls. So instead, another familiar plan was put into motion. They would starve the city.

For over a month now, the city had accommodated both their citizens and the Austrians without any new supplies; their routes being completely cut off by the Prussians. Yet everything was still quiet. It frustrated not only Gilbert, but many others. They should have been pushed into submission by now, right?

Gilbert continued to race through his thoughts as he continued to walk through the camps before reaching his destination. Unlike the first time Gilbert had entered the General's camp; he was immediately recognized and allowed forward without any hassle. A white canopy was staked as a makeshift roof which blocked out the sun's direct rays, and gave the men a sense of privacy. There was also a wooden table set up with charts and maps thrown about it, quite similar to the first General's meeting which Gilbert had attended at the beginning of the war.

King Frederick had already seated himself at the table, silently reading over some reports, while a few other Generals chatted quietly. None of it, from what Gilbert discerned, was small talk, and all coincided with the war. Gilbert stepped within the premises but decided against taking a seat at the table. As a mere Colonel, it was already amazing enough that he was able to attend such important meetings, and would not dare to accidentally disrespect any superior by taking their seat. Instead he remained on his feet, his back comfortably leaning against one of the wooden beams that held up the canopy.

Gilbert glanced around; he did not recognize every man present, though he did find that he knew at least half of them. Some he had never met personally, but had seen them enough to know who they were. Gilbert spotted Winterfeldt, the General who had led the first charge during the battle for Prague. He still had an arm in a sling, and a slight limp, having taken slight artillery, but other than that, he was alert and ready to move things along.

He spotted Marshal Keith, a cheerful, plump Scottish man who had served as a mercenary in both the Spanish and Russian armies in his younger years, but had been in the service of the Prussian army for at least 10 years now. He was very experienced and proved on several occasions to be a brilliant tactician as well. Then to Keith's left sat the all too familiar General Zieten. Gilbert held the man in high respects, and almost considered him a friend, having actually had more time around the man besides the duel.

Gilbert's eyes passed from Zieten and soon landed on an empty seat. He felt a twitch of pain seeing the seat which normally was occupied by Schwerin. That man had been one of their best leaders and had always given the best advice in their meetings. Gilbert's gaze shifted to Frederick, who was still quietly studying a document.

The king had kept himself strong and firm through this whole ordeal. After all, men were lost every day in war. Marshals were no exception. However, the two had been close friends, and having just watched how the two interacted with each other during tactical meetings, nearly being able to read each other's mind, but also filling in whatever the other had missed. It was obvious the two had worked with each other for a long time. He must have been truly saddened by his friend's death.

Gilbert too, had to admit he would miss that old fart's comments and intrusions in the meetings. Over the last five months he had served under him, Gilbert had thought of him as a sort of mentor. After all, it was in his old nature to give Gilbert advice on nearly everything, based on his past experience.

A new face suddenly entered in among the men, quickly hushing any conversations and drawing in all eyes upon him. He was about Gilbert's height, thin and lanky and had curly brown hair. He had a narrow chin with wide cheeks, thin lips and mustache. He had to be in his 40's, but his youthfulness made him appear younger. His green eyes sparkled cunningly as he glanced at his audience; completely ignoring the Prussian escorts he had closely following behind him. He wore a simple outfit, consisting of a commoners blouse and trousers, which Gilbert scoffed at. Christian Andreas Käsebier was anything but common.

He turned his green eyes towards Gilbert, his thin lips curling into what some might think was a charming smile, but was fake in Gilbert's eyes. The man as a whole reminded Gilbert of a weasel.

"Colonel Beilschmidt. We meet again." He said politely, nodding his head and clapping his hands together.

"Yeah, been a while, Käsebier. Last we met I believe you were scouting my tent for valuables?" Gilbert scrawled, his tone polite but with a slight edge to his voice. However, his disgusted glare did sort of give away his displeasure as well.

"Ah, quite right. My apologies. It was my first day here and I had gotten a bit lost in this large camp." He said with fake sincerity. "But I must digress, Beilschmidt, your personals were rather disappointing.

Gilbert growled. What was he talking about? His stuff was awesome!

"Oh yes, and you just happened to LOSE your escorts in the process! Why don't you crawl back in the hole you came from, you piece of sh-."

"Käsebier, you're late." Frederick stated, documents set on the table and grey eyes watching his guest warily.

Käsebier quickly turned his back to Gilbert, his face bright and face smug. He acted as if his confrontation with Gilbert had actually been just another friendly chat.

"Ah, of course! My apologies your highness! You look as majestic as ever!"

"Enough with the stalling and talk. I didn't pardon you from your life sentence just for worthless conversation." Frederick stated bluntly, as he placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly, resting his head on the top of his entwined hands.

"What are the Austrians up to inside the city?"

Käsebier sighed, helping himself to an empty seat at the table across from the king.

"So picky." he muttered, before politely starting on his report.

"I couldn't find out much this time. Rather than simply blending in with the townspeople and listening to gossip, I took to asking around a bit more, even trying to get some info from some Austrians themselves. According to what I've picked up, they don't seem to be planning any means to attack. It seems like they are simply waiting you out."

Frederick's eyebrows knitted together. "They are waiting us out?" he asked skeptically.

Käsebier shrugged. "That's what it sounded like. Don't know why. Things aren't looking too great for them in there. The Austrians are keeping things under control, but the townspeople are beginning to panic. They don't seem like they could last much longer but still, the Austrians don't seem too worried."

Frederick remained silent for a moment, his mind analyzing this new information.

"They couldn't be expecting more reinforcements. Not after so long. And they would have to get a scout out of the city, and not one soul has left since we've occupied Prague."

"Ah, but pigeons do work rather well in these situations, don't you think?" Käsebier added nonchalantly.

Frederick's brows creased even more as he began to think, his eyes also scanning over the maps before him in the process.

He snatched up a map of the area, which already had scribbles drawn all over it, specifying patrol paths and points.

"Listen here, men!" Frederick called out, turning every eye to him and the map before him.

He began to scribble wider paths and marking further points.

"Bevern. Set up a patrol along these points just east of the city. Keith, your men remain in the west, however, I want more stationed to patrol wider along the forest. Zieten, I want your hussars just north of the Prosek heights along where our converging point was. We need to prevent any corps from sneaking behind us."

Frederick continued to assign new duties to different men. Gilbert was specifically assigned anything, being of a lower rank, but he knew that his regiment would most likely take part along the eastern patrol. Since Schwerin's death, Gilbert and his regiment had been put under Bevern's temporary command.

Frederick suddenly turned his attentions from his Generals and to Käsebier instead.

"Käsebier, I want you in Prague again. I need to know when they are expecting reinforcements and from where. Also find out if they are sneaking out any messengers or scouts.

Gilbert nearly laughed at how flustered the once calm and cool weasel's face became once his orders were relayed.

"But-but your majesty!" He stuttered nervously. "I've snuck in their three times already in the last month! I stuck my head in deeper than usual in my last inquiry. They have probably discerned my identity by now!"

Oh how Gilbert loved the unimpressed glare Frederick shot the man. It was so different from the cheerful Fritz Gilbert knew when not conducting business.

"I believe the deal was that I pardoned you from the life sentence I gave you on condition you serve as a Prussian intelligence operative. We are not done here. You have yet to provide me with sufficient information."

"But there is no way I could manage it again! I'd be discovered and executed!" Käsebier argued; his usually smooth voice cracking with hesitation.

"If you refuse to do the job I have assigned to you, then I suppose that prison has a better use for you after all then." Frederick added coldly, his gray gaze seemed to dig through Käsebier's very being.

The former thief didn't retaliate this time. He merely remained still, fingers digging into the table edge. He swallowed for a moment, fingers beginning to tap as he weighed his options. After a moment of uneasy silence, he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Alright." was all he managed to say.

A satisfied smile graced Frederick's lips, and his eyes ceased their hard glare.

"I thought you'd come around." he commented, before his eyes jumped to the man's escorts.

"You may take him back to his dwellings now." he ordered.

The men nodded before helping up a seemingly weak Käsebier from his chair and leading him from the premises.

Gilbert smirked as he made eye contact with the now dead-eyed man as he passed by him, unable to make even one more slide comment towards him.

"Enjoy your trip." Gilbert chuckled, raising one hand and casually waving to the man. "Hope you can bring us some better info this time."

Käsebier's eyebrows knitted slightly at the comment, but that was all he could do before he was out of sight.

o00o00o00o

18 Juni, 1757

Gilbert hurriedly marched into his tent, throwing open his wooden chest and digging through it, grabbing all of his battle essentials. He had just returned to camp after checking on one of his patrols, only to find the army in utter disarray as men readied for battle. Scouts had returned with news of an oncoming Austrian army from the north which was threatening to cut off Prussian supply lines and thereby obliterate the siege of Prague.

Many reports had been made, some estimating the enemy forces to have some 44,000 men, while others reported around 65,000. But either way, they were up against a large force. They had figured that the forces must have been alerted from Austrian soldiers who had fled from their battle a month earlier. As for news from Käsebier? He was never heard from again.

Gilbert growled and kicked his wooden chest with his boot. Their forces were much too small to both intercept the Austrians and continue their siege! And he bet his life that the Austrians were well aware of this as well. They had no choice but to take leave of Prague and intercept the enemy, which had apparently already taken the defensive on hills near the town of Kolin.

However, Frederick had already come up with a plan of attack to envelop the enemy's right wing with a good majority of the combined Prussian and even the Saxon forces, which had finally been put to use. If they were able to draw the attentions of the left wing, before engulfing the right, the battle could very well be theirs. It was the perfect plan, and Gilbert expected no less from their Fritz. Though they would have to abandon their positions, if the battle ran smoothly, they could quickly reclaim the area and finally finish this month long siege.

Gilbert took in a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips as he scanned the small tent to see if he was missing anything before returning to his soldiers. Not finding anything, he began to turn to leave but paused upon spotting a small parchment of paper atop his makeshift desk which had been formed by crates. He reached his hand out and snatched the paper, staring at it longingly.

It was a letter Ludwig had written him a few weeks before. He scanned over the words and the neat handwriting which was much too precise for a kid his age. He remembered reading about a few other adventures he had had with Eliza, some comments about his lessons, and even a few stories about Gilbird. According to the blond, the wing had healed marvelously and the bird was allowed to fly all about the house….well, at least until it left Roderich a nice surprise on his piano (which Gilbert praised the creature for). After that, the bird was only allowed to be free in Ludwig's room.

When the weather had finally begun to warm up again, Ludwig said he had attempted to release the bird back into the wild, just as Gilbert instructed him to, but apparently the little bird just wouldn't leave. Ludwig's comment that it was 'waiting for Bruder to come home', had made Gilbert chuckle. His kleiner Bruder was just too cute after all.

Gilbert sighed as he sat the letter back down in its place. He had meant to start his response in the next couple days, but seeing as another battle was about to begin, he doubted he would be able to respond so soon.

"I'll write to you soon, Ludwig." Gilbert muttered, eyes still glued to the letter but a grin creeping on his face. "Großer Bruder has some Austrians to kill."

Apologies for the lateness. Took me longer than expected to research and write. And then even took my beta a while to edit it.

History:

*That was the Battle of Prague of course. Kind of hard to write but I think I did ok. And Schwerin really was hit by a cannon ball after shouting that super cool line to attempt to rally his troops. That Sucks.

*Then the Prussian attempt to siege Prague, and Frederick's attempt to gain intelligence from the inside by sending the notorious thief, Käsebier in as a spy.

*And the very last part served as an intro into the Battle of Kolin.

*The man Gilbert shot was Marshal Maximilian Ulysses Count Brown, one of the main leaders of this Austrian force, was also killed during this battle. Couldn't find how….so I figured Gilbert would be awesome enough to do it. He had been injured and carried into Prague, where he died shortly after, all the blame for their failed campaign set on him. Poor guy.

There is just way too much history to go through. I almost even wrote it before discovering Schwerin died at Prague! That would have messed things up…

Other info I thought would be important for you to know:

*First Silesian War: 1740-1742 (When Prussia took Silesia)

*Second Silesian War : 1744-1745 (When Austria tried to get it back….and didn't.)

And these were surprisingly different but a part of the War of Austrian Succession. (1740-1748)

Some Military stuff (requested by my beta)

Rank from greatest to least

Field Marshal (Old Fritz is also technically considered a Field Marshal, but since he's king, he's also in charge of the others)

General

Major General

Colonel (Gilbert's rank)

Major

Captain

Lieutenant

(there are others but as for this specific time period, I am unsure which were all used. So I'm sticking with the ones which I know were used.)

Infantry tactics: (didn't use all, but for future reference)

Column/ typical marching formation. Good for breaking through enemy lines

Line/ simple two-three rank line. Common battle formation. First row would kneel after firing to allow second row to fire.

Square/Good against Cavalry. First line kneels and angles bayonets upward. Second and third lines fire when Cavalry is close.

Skirmishers/ light infantry advance to draw in enemy attack, and allowing sharpshooters to pick off the officers.

Regiment- military unit, roughly 700-1000 men, led by a Colonel

*Mai- May

*Juni- June

*Jelito - Czech -blood sausage (CHAPTER TITLE)

Anyways, hope this chapter wasn't too boring. Still no good at battle scenes. Please leave a review if you liked Gilbert using them Austrians as his personal carpet.

Danke!