"French soldiers literally drank the entire day, beginning with wine (un pauvre larme – "a little teardrop"), progressing to spirits (le café le pousse-café), climaxing with a gut-searing brandy (le tord-boyaux – "the gut-wringer"), and ending with la consolation, a sweet liqueur that the French soldier sipped as he lay in his bunk contemplating the next day's exertions. Far from imbuing the army with an ésprit"
Geoffrey Wawro, in his book, the Franco Prussian war

France/ Near French Luxembourg and German border/ October 10th/ 1869/ 1st divisions POV POV

The bustling noise inside the crudely constructed barracks area as well as field tent areas for 1st rifle company, of the 298th Battalion, of the Army of the French army of the Rhine, fills the space almost fully, even as Petain and one of his comrades make their way down the steps into a plaza like area set up in the middle of the camp. An area set up for roll call and company instructions

"Attention!" Calls out the Seargent Major, a stocky short man with burn scar tissue covering his left eye, such a wound he had received in the Crimean war. Every man in the room clatters to attention. Silently, Petain takes his place amongst his company, drawing a sly side-grin from multiple of his comrades, which in turn draws an annoyed grimace from Petain. He had nearly arrived late for roll call this morning.

To the flank of his company an addition 4 others. All forming up the bulk of the 298th Rifle battalion. Lt Colonel Fleurs Arquette rides along his horse inspecting each and every one of the companies and men with meticulous precision. His gaze becomes friendly as he does a second inspection.

Silently, the Colonel rides past the various squads, nodding his head in greeting to a few before he takes his place among the senior staff of the 1st Division under the command of General Douay. Five officers of various rank, including the Lt Colonel once he got off his horse, clustered around a single rectangular table set near the side of the barracks, a large map place on top.

General Douay is present, his heavy dark blue cloak buttoned over his chest with his hands behind his back, looking every part a Commissariat officer and French General. He recognizes Colonel Fleurs, the tall, short-haired brunette who lost an ear to a Russian sniper on the Crimean Peninsula at the battle of Alma. Next to him is Captain Melville of the 122nd infantry battalion, a head shorter than Fleurs, with umber skin and a close-cropped black hair, and an ugly wreck of nose from the fighting in the Algerian campaign. There are two more Captains he knows by face; Jean De Argon, a man who would was only just days from taking command of a battalion of Chasseurs Alpeni (French Mountain troops) had it not been for his services being needed as tensions with Prussia rose. Then there was Willers, a fresh-faced junior and British volunteer who has recently been given his commission and also serves as an observer for his respective country.

General Douay gently finishes smoking his pipe before beginning to speak, breathing out smoke into his staff officers' faces as he does.

"Is everyone account for Capitaines, Colonels et Messieurs." He then brings the pipe back up to his mouth and smokes it inhaling the herbs and Tabacco inside.

"Colonel Milles of the 67th line, went missing sir. We haven't seen him since he entered Luxembourg for shopping yesterday." Lt Colonel Arquette said calmly and annoyed. "As well as that I need a demolition team to demolish something troublesome in Luxembourg." The colonel then continued vaguely.

"Like I said yesterday your demolition team can wait for Lt Colonel Fleurs Arquette." Douay says, pipe between his teeth and golden beard. The General then turns away from the table and begins to walk out of the tent to the 6,000 or so men lining up or lined up outside his command tent for evaluation and inspection.

"Alright let's get this over with." He sighs. The tramping of feet fills the air as the trooper's stances relaxes as he walks out with his stance and says "At ease men." He then coughs and hands his pipe to one of the 5 officers around him. He then breathes in an begins to speak

"All right, everyone. I'll keep things simple and obvious; we've been here just nearly a month now, and currently our cavalry scouting detachments have reported multiple fires spreading across Luxembourg and several border villages on either side of the border seemingly emptied. No activity has also been spotted on the Prussian side. The 298th Rifle Battalion is to head to the intersections of the Prussian, Luxembourgian, and our borders, the village of Perl. The cavalry reported that the town seemed to have been burned and destroyed. For all we know we may now be in an active state of war. Do not fire unless fired upon or cross the border any farther than the village. The 67th Line is to secure the right flank of the 298th, the 17th light infantry is to secure the left. The remaining battalions in this division will await the detachments of scouting cavalry to return with more news or riders from any of these 3 battalions if they encounter Prussian soldiers and get into a fight." He paused before continuing.

"2 full Companies of men have gone missing in Luxembourg and seeing what the border scouts are reporting the country is to be considered an active combat zone. You may cross into Luxembourg only if there is battle and whatever enemy there is we push past the border. The 298th is to investigate the village and secure it properly. You are allowed to help the civilians if there are any. Any looting and you will lash for breaking discipline. Any attempt to directly harm a civilian will result in court marshal and execution. Am I clear "

"Monsieur, oui, monsieur!" The soldiers yelled out and saluted.

"Dismissed." He finished.

Hundreds of soldiers now began to move. Those not of the 3 listed battalions fell back to their tents and barracks while those of the said battalions fell in with their units and formed columns in preparation to march out of the camp.

30 Minutes later on the road

The two hundred men of the 298th march in parallel down the path trodden by the occasional mud and numerous other feet, Chassepots held ready, while between them eight large, supply wagons carrying the mix of medical, food and other supplies, as well as the battalions battle surgeons to use them. All being led by a Colonel Fleurs Arquette as he rides along at the front of the battalion on his horse. It's a long and winding column of soldiers. The rifle men wear unlike the regular infantry a full blue uniform and carry the Chassepot Africanus which has a maximum range of 1,700 meters. Regular chassepots used by the infantry have a range of 1,200 meters.

As they march along, hands reach out to stroke the occasional foliage that lines their path. Fingers brush against leaf and bush, while some of the more athletic ones make attempts to jump up and grasp at any low hanging branches above their heads when they march into a treelined. One soldier, a veteran of five years and a former geologist, stepped out of column and began to place some dirt into a small steel tin that he quickly replaces in his backpack before joining back in the column.

Throughout the journey, thewhirr-clickof a camera filled the air, as Journalist Pruben Corditz a Bavarian, snapped away with his device who still baffle most of the soldiers. Having come from the countryside of France and chosen for their marksman skills rather than literacy and smarts the common French soldier had never seen a Camera until they were conscripted into the army for long service periods in exchange for great benefits for their family.

To Colonel Fleurs, it had made sense. "Better to have a man who knows how to use a rifle in a bad situation while not being able to read, than a man who doesn't know how to use rifle yet can read."

So, as the battalion trundles on down the pathway chosen for them on the map, Corditz snaps away as he rides on the wagons alongside the surgeons.

Whirr-click

A photo of troopers marching, rifles slung across their shoulders.

Whirr-click

10 minutes later a photo of a soldier, touching a flower that was high as his waist as they march past the farm fields and prairies of eastern France.

Whirr-click

Another 10 minutes later, more soldiers moving past a tree line, one smoking a pipe, while something vaguely in the shape of a man or maybe bear to be more accurate stands behind the tree trunk.

Cordizt checks the photo.

"Wait what is that..."

He looks at the spot again. It's gone. The journalist looks over the photo again as the wagon moves. There was definitely something there. The Camera caught it.

The Journy has so far taken the 298th 10-kilometers away from their starting point in Fort Tempest. Setting out from oh-six-thirty local time, it has been a near 3-hour march across the small roads littering the French countryside, interspersed with small bouts of one of the wagons getting stuck in some mud. Every man is semi tired, their feet sore and beginning to blister. Water has been rationed in their canteens, but everyone is beginning to feel the effects of thirst hitting them. However morale remain high.

The column passes a natural embankment along a well-trodden dirt road. The column halts, and the Lt Colonel, along with the higher-ranking officers of the company scramble and ride up the rise to carefully peer over the top.

Through the line of the trees, the Lt Colonel not even having to take out his officers' binoculars, he sees their objective straight away.

Resting his hand against an oak his horse rests besides, he gets a better look, Fleurs takes in what he can see.

In the cleared area directly in front of him, he can see small farms, probably communal or family owned, fenced off my low wooden fences and gates. Each one is in a horrible state. Crops in the form of tall, stalked grain and low tubers have been shredded, torn and uprooted, although either by collateral or deliberate, Fleurs can't tell.

He waves his officers as they ride back to join the marching column.

"The village is up ahead. Stay together and do split off. We do not know if we are walking into an ambush." Fleurs said as the men followed him forward. They soon reached the outskirts of the village along the road.

One of the sergeants shifts his focus, taking his eyes past the farmland and up to one of the walls used to divide houses, along the small village. White/tan neatly, rising up to five meters, if he has to make a guess. They look sturdy enough for sure, but past the tops of the walls, he can see the dark smoke of burning house the wall was meant to shield rising above it.

Looking intently at the wall, he can see dark pockmarks in the wall.

"Musket, I reckon." One of the soldiers chirps up, looking intently at the marks through a small hand-held scope. "Looks like… musket balls and black powder stains." The soldier continues as he breaks formation and gently swipes off a black gunpowder stain on one of the nearby trees.

Not saying a word, Fleurs turns back to look at the town ahead of him. Reaching into one the pouches in his officers uniform he draws out his own pair of binoculars before raising them to his eyes. Scanning across the top of the house's rooftops and second floors of the few two-story houses in the village, he sees no movement. No people looking out for help, no guards (If there were Prussian soldiers stationed here), looking out for another enemy attack.

The town seems dead from where he is.

"Okay." He says to himself, putting the binoculars away before he turns and begins walking back to the column, the officers, and soldiers. When he reaches the waiting column, he speaks loudly.

"Okay, listen up." Fleurs calls out as he rides along the column. "We found the town. For now, it's all quiet, but that doesn't mean shit. I know that many of you veterans among us have been in situations that started out as a quiet, then gotveryloud quickly."

A series of small chuckles are heard among the columns.

"But...this will not be a combat operation. This is a reconnaissance mission, fact-finding only. We'll also be providing medical aid and support, if the populace needs it… Regardless of if they're French or not."

"So remember; we shootonlywhen shot at, anyone with a weapon is a valid target. Watch your fire. We'll be going in armed, but not aggressive. Father Constantine, are you ready?"

A figure steps forward from among the press of troopers. Dressed in a black cassock with small white trimming on the hems, itself lined with thick old Latin script, Father Constantine, is the oldest man in the company, perhaps the whole of the 298th. Well into the latter half of a century, no-one can really be sure how far, the priest battalion priest however still stands tall and ready. He gently kisses his crucifix neckless, He had seen campaigns in Crimea, Italy, and Algeria. The priest also stood head taller than half of the soldiers around him. His clean trimmed face is offset by the close-cropped white head of hair, while his eyes, are the color of Lapis lazuli. However, like any French man his eyes burn brightly beneath a pair of thick bushy eyebrows.

Father Constantine bows his head solemnly. "I am ready to perform my duty." he says.

Fleurs turned back to the rest of the battalion to face them.

"First Rifle Company will form a perimeter around the outskirts of the town and prevent anything from coming in an out of it. The 1st will also alert us to anyone approaching the town. The 2nd line and 4th skirmishers infantry will advance into the town center, clearing streets as they go. The 3rd light infantry is to clear the town house to house as it follows behind the 2nd and 4th. Do you understand." Fleurs barked.

"Oui Colonel monsieur!" The men answered

However, despite this resolute cry the newer recruits still remain shaken at entering a place of clear death. Fleurs could only hope to God that their would-be survivors. Luckily the battalion priest has words of encouragement for the men and any survivors in the town. They begin to march into the town slowly while the 1st moves around the tree lines and farm fields slowly encircling the town.

The priest then speaks trying to call out to any survivors.

"Friends!" Father Constantine's voice booms across the farmland, reaching the ears of the soldiers. "We come in the name of the God, the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and the Empire of France! We have aid and are here to help you. Do not be shy! Come forth!" Even across the field, the preachers voice is filled with power and compassion that has easily swayed many people to his side once before. His is a voice that has made a rioting crowd in Parus drop their weapons and desist their actions and ask the emperor Napoleon 3rd for forgiveness.

But now, all it gets is the fluttering of wings as a small group of carrion birds fly over their heads from the gate.

'Oh, God, please let me be wrong…' Fleurs could only beg internally.

As he personally led the 2nd and 4th into town they were greeted by a veritable cloud of carrion birds, of nearly all shapes and sizes, take wing, the fluttering of their wings and the cawing of their beaks filling the air as they're disturbed from their roosts at the loud intrusion. They fly over the tops of stone wall, houses, farm fences, far above the heads of the soldiers who stand in shock in front of several burned down and smashed in houses, before they return back to their roosts.

The smell is what first hits the Lt Colonel

It is immediately, viscerally familiar, a scent he's known nearly all his life. From his service in Algeria, to then Crimea, and then the Italy peninsula against the Austrians. A smell he so vividly remembered at Solferino.

(The battle of Sofarino was considered the bloodiest battle on European soil at the time and led to the formation of the Red cross as a Swiss businessman who witness the battle was so appalled by the senseless slaughter of 20,000 men in a matter of hours that he formed the red cross in response)

The sickly-sweet smell of decaying meat, and the acrid metallic tang of fear.

He knows the smell, and the horror that accompanies it, from the many lands he's campaigned on in service to the Republic and then the Empire of France.

Death. The soldier's closest companion.

The deeper they advance into the town the greater the massacre they find.

The town would have been idyllic the day before. The sort of town the propagandists would advertise as a reward for long service served. The sort of town that would be ready and waiting for any good soldier of France that came through the hell of the wars the nation fought, alive. The sort of town any man and woman would dream of living in. Small homes, some no more than two stories tall, with stone walls and wooden doors, slate roofs and simple garden plots.

Some of the houses had their doors ripped off from the hinges or just the walls smashed in. Others hand been burned to ruins.

However, he was glad he wasn't the 3rd. They had the job of going houses to house and doing body recovery. He doubted anyone had survived the massacre at this point. It was pure senseless slaughter on a level that not even their natrual enemies the Prussians would commit, very less against their own civilians

Two of the soldiers of the 3rd detach from the small fragmenting column, Chassepot rifles raised, they enter the house one at a time. Inside, the Lt Colonel can hear the pair moving around, their hard soled boots scuffing wooden flooring before the pair come back out.

Their Chassepots hung limp on their shoulders when they came out. The two men's faces pale. One of them was a new recruit while one was a veteran. He could tell by the nasty saber scar running down the middle of his bearded face.

"Well, what did you find." Fleurs questioned, while more and more soldiers of the 3rd entered houses.

One of the pair just looks at the floor, his eyes unfocused. The other one, a trooper, the veteran with a nasty scar running down the middle of his face, swallows what was in his throat.

"There… there was a family in there. And they… they've been…"

He suddenly turns away and vomits loudly, being careful not to get the liquid on his carefully crafted uniform.

He begins to sob. "So much blood. Oh, Jesus Christ Above… the bodies… were so small."

"They killed the children as well. Whoever was here killed the children as well. They were gutted." the younger one then says as he begins to sob.

Fleurs face pales. He climbs off his horse and walks towards the house to personally inspect the scene. Nothing has prepared him for what he will witness despite his years serving his country fervently.

He doesn't even go through the door before what he sees stops him cold.

The interior of the building is dark, both from the shadows cast and the color of the wood, but even in the low light, Fleurs can easily see the large number of scratch marks in the flooring. And he can also see the dark stains that seep from a side room into the central room.

Bile rises in the Lt Colonels throat before he turns away, swallowing it with a grimace. He's seen this level of death and murder before, especially in Algeria, enough that he should be desensitized to it. However, the site of such a slaughter and on such a scale of butcher on his home soil and European soil and against civilians was too much. Also seeing the idyllic setting, a place he has had dreams of reaching himself, a place where he would dream of settling down in if triggers something in him. That… and the small hand he saw sticking out of the doorway…

He walked out it was to much. He wasn't going to see the butcher bodies of French women and children.

"Everyone off the streets!" One of the sergeants yelled. The Colonel saw a small detachment of Prussian lancer's gallop into the town.

He walked up to them without fear. The Lt or Captain of this small Detachment galloped up to him stopping just in front of his face.

"Je doute que tu aies fait ça." Fleurs spoke too the man.

"C'est exact, mon ami français. Nous avons de l'honneur, contrairement aux chiens qui ont commis un tel crime" The Prussian responded curtly and with anger in his voice. "Avez-vous une idée de ce qui lui est arrivé?" (French was during the 1800s the universe military language and was taught in all military schools. This only changed after WW2)

"Un massacre, c'est clair, mais je n'ai aucune idée de qui sont les sauvages qui ont fait ça." Fleurs responded bitterly.

"Putain d'enfer" The Prussian responded angrily and with equal bitterness. "Nous allons mettre notre différence de côté pour l'instant. Ja?" The Prussian then spoke his tone changing to a friendlier one.

"Oui" Fleurs responded politely as he got on his horse and trotted it next to the Prussian detachment leader's one. The two then extended hands and shook them on horseback as the Lancers of the Prussian detachment and the infantry of his own battalion raised their eyebrows in surprise.

"Sir!" One of the lancers says as he rides attention, lance slung against his chest as he approaches his officer after said officer and the Lt Colonel finished shaking hands "We checked the entirety of the village, as ordered, even some of the French helped, and we came across the marker square. Sir… there's bodies… everywhere. The entire square is littered with them"

"Yes, I can see that based on everything we and our French friends have found so far." The Prussian officer responds testily, looking around at the town before he turns back to Fleurs. "What about the bodies? Anything you can tell us about what you've found so far French man?"

"Not a lot, my fine gentleman. The bodies are… hell, I've seen artillery strikes that left prettier corpses. These bodies are just…" Fleurs says drawing out a bit at the last line.

"Eviscerated." The Captain of the Light infantry company responds for him. "They may be also survivors"

"We will search for the survivors along with the Prussians."

"You may have your order Frenchman, but I have mine and while we have our little truce I will not assist in such endeavors." The Prussian lancer officer said gruffy as he stroked his blond mustache.

"Votre perte et votre perte d'honneur alors prussien." Fleurs said barely containing his frustration at the Prussian brat.

"Search the town from top to bottom. Collect any bodies and give them a proper burial." He then orders his men to which they saluted and got on with it.

Prussian Lancer Detachments POV

"You should have lanced that French connards (German slur) body." One of Elrics subordinates slurred in German.

"Should I have corporal?" Elric responded shruggingly.

"Sir? He's French, he shouldn't have the right to talk back to you."

"One such as me'? No. No, I don't think so." He doesn't need to look behind him to see the confusion on his charges faces.

"A man who can meet a glare from an honorable Prussia with a glare of his own is worthy of commendation. Not a reprimand." Elric says sagely. "Besides, the French have their orders, we have ours. I will not begrudge an officer, French or ours, for following their duty. He has body retrieval duty or some bullshit like that we have scouting orders. "

Elric once again begins scanning the area taking in what facts he can from the village he's in and from what he knows from the reconnaissance reports.

The north-eastern sector of the village is open to a river that branches off from the Rhine and Meus, which itself is nearly bordered by the heavy forest of this land, as well as farmland, a serious design flaw in any true military settlement, but this was a civilian one. Unless one is part of a chain of such outposts for supply and reinforcement however, he had received no such knowledge his military or the French had been doing that with this village that crosses both their borders.

So, for all intents and purposes, this place is purely a civilian settlement.

He looks at one of the corpses and mutters"Something is amiss from the bigger picture." It then hits him. He says out loud in full hearing of his men and the nearby French.

"Whatever attacked this village, they were done so only to sow destruction and death. This was not the act of simple wild animals. This attack was orchestrated by something. Or someone."

Father Constine's POV/ 2 hours later

"Him on Earth, Jesus Christ; even in this hour and place, far from your holy light, grant your mercy to these poor, departed souls, known only to you, and those who loved him. See him safely through the afterlife, and let his soul be granted the peace he was denied in life. In your name, we pray. Amen."

"Amen." The soldiers accompanying repeat as they dip their heads while some gently piled the final bodies into a mass grave.

A rider had already been sent out to alert the main encampment of their finds. The Prussian lancers who had also gathered around for the burial ceremony had also sent one of their own to their main military camp as well.

Constantine finds himself troubled.

He knows not a single person he is praying over, not a single name is known to him as he watches the body of the young man be lifted up in a sheet and placed on the ever-growing pyre, ready to be cremated.

It is a test of his faith, is what he tells himself. To be tested in the simplest way; to see if his faith still holds, even in this dark place. To be surrounded by the nameless dead.

Even the few dead French soldiers they do find in the surrounding area have their identification marks inside the ripped pieces of their uniform. (The inside of French uniforms had an area that was white where the name of the soldier was written. The Prussians on the other hand used dogtags.)

Standing up, Constantine randomly picks a direction to walk in. There are so many bodies that to pick a direction would see him driven mad with trying to organize them all in his mind, somebodies are still being charted into the mass grave. So, he simply turns to his left and heads towards a partially smashed building. The walls of the house are smashed in and the house is partially burned. Or so he guesses.

He climbs through the house and walks towards the exit smash, carefully avoiding getting injured by shattered glass and any other form of rubble. He lets out a weary sigh as he gently checks each room of the ruined abode. He finds 2 bodies in one of the rooms. Due to the horrible, mangled state of the bodies he simply cannot tell anything identifying who these people were. Any form of gender cannot be simply ascertained as the bodies have been ripped so brutally apart any identification is simply gone. There are also very little clothes remaining on the blacked, bloodied, and ripped bodies.

He morbidly questions the possible fate of these 2 dead. Is it a parent and a child, clutched together in their final hour, the former futilely shielding the latter with their body? Is it two lovers who wished their final moments to once more be in each other's arms? Or is it simply a pair of strangers who did not wish to die alone?

"Ce n'est pas simplement humain... Le jour du jugement dernier est-il déjà arrivé ? L'humanité doit-elle payer pour ses péchés ? C'est un signe divin de ce qui nous attend." He says out loud, speaking to no one but himself.

(Translation: What did this cannot be simply human. Is it possible judgement day has already arrived. Is humanity to pay for their sins and this is a sign from God of what's to come)

He then moves past the house through another smashed wall forming a crud exit hole. Outside he sees some of the soldiers of the line infantry, their glorious uniforms, of blue overcoat, red pantaloons, and red cap being an ironic contradiction to their sober states. Some of the men are even crying over the senseless slaughter with those German lancers who had wished to fraternize with them.

The bodies the soldiers in question are inspecting are a pair. A man and a woman, the former taller than the other by a full head. It's hard to make out what clothes they wear, stained as they are with so much blood and dirt, but one thing is noticeable; they died protecting each other, the weapons in their hands telling that tale. The man has the shred remains of a rifle. A musket most likely. The woman has an outdated Flintlock antique; it looks to be from the Napoleonic wars. Simple weapons, but potent. Against the right foe.

Clearly, they were not used against the right foe.

Constantine lets out a weary sigh.

"The blood of martyrs and revolutionaries is the seed of our country." He intones as he carefully reaches out and touches the body of the woman, wishing to move her into an easier position for removal. The soldiers soon assist him as 2 carry the body of the man to the block down below where the mass grave is located.

He gently instructs another pair of soldiers to handle the women's body carefully. Not to further abhor the body of a fairer sex. The woman had been alone, at death's very door, among the blood and death of a town she called home, among people she knew and befriended, possibly. Looking down, he sees a small band of metal on one of her fingers, the same band shared on the hand of the man behind her, and it is clear to see that she knew love too.

His thoughts are interrupted by a soldier of the line infantry as he runs up to him. "Father, they've found a survivor at the well!" The soldier calls out in joy, before he turns to call out to the other soldiers nearby. "Hey! The first company found a survivor!"

A pregnant pause fills the air before, almost as one, a glee-filled shout fills the air. Even Father Constantine can't help but laugh out loud in joy, the death and misery around him all but forgotten at the happy news. He quickly heads over in the direction of the well.

"Get rope!"

"Prends une putain de corde!" Another soldier slurs as he waves one of the engineers to move quickly. The Engineer quickly pulls out some rope slung across his body and begins to lower it into the well.

"Dieu merci!" The engineer yells happily as he throws down the rope to rescue the survivor.

"Get the rope down there fast but not too much. We do not want to frighten the survivor." Constantine states before looking down at the dark well. He spots childlike features of a face down below. It's a child.

"I'm coming down!" One of the soldiers calls out into the well. "Just… keep still all, right?"

"O-okay!" The girl in the well replies, sounding happy but still quite scared too.

Taking a deep breath the soldier climbs over the lip of the well and braces his feet against the edges, holding himself steady with his hands. Gingerly, carefully, he begins to edge himself down the inside of the well. The first few feet are easy going, the hard soles of his boots keeping his progress steady. As his hands trail down the stone, however, they brush over the large scratch marks in the stone, making him pause.

Reaching the highest point of the line of moss, the soldier begins to pay more attention to his progress. Several times, his boots skid on the slick surface before he steadies himself and carries down into the well.

Above him, the beams of light shift to point directly downwards, letting him see the young girl at the bottom of the well.

Her eyes are open in fear, as she tries her best to move away from the obviously strange man making his way towards her. Shimmying down closer, he thinks of what he can say to get her to see him as a savior. Then his left foot hits a particularly large piece of moss… and he slips down.

He gives an inarticulate cry of shock as his feet give out from beneath him and he plummets down into the water, sinking right up to his waist before he stops himself, the action making the young girl cry out in shock and fright.

"Oh, fuck… that's cold!" the soldier says loudly, sounding much more like a school child thrown into the swimming pool than a battle-hardened soldier of France. A sound he didn't imagine hearing hits his ears as he regains his bearings in the well. A giggle. A simple, childish giggle; a sound that should not have existed in a place marked by death and destruction

"Hello, little one." He says simply and calmly, shifting his hands on the walls around him to keep himself steady.

The girl is hesitant to speak, her eyes shifting every which way and around as she tries to avoid looking at soldier in the eye. Just like Arie used to do when she got in trouble, or thought she was in trouble…

"H-hello." The girl replies, her accent sounding odd, but speaking in clear Low Gothic.

Petain smiled broadly and gently stroked his mustache. Progress.

"My name is Petain. I'm here to help."

"Are… are the monsters gone?" She asks, her voice shivering almost as much as her body does.

Monsters… so that kind of narrows down the list of perpetrators. Moving away from amusement he considers her words as he gently picks her up. Monsters. No such blasphemy existed yet the fear in her voice told him otherwise. What the hell had occurred in this town. He switched to comforting the girl as he climbed up the well and is assisted by his comrades pull him up.

"Yes, they're gone. What's your name, little one?"

"C-Claudette. Will… will you help me find my momma and papa?"

Petain tries to keep the smile on his face. The girl has no idea of the devastation that has been brought on her town. The only thing that's keeping her going is her childlike hope, the naivety, that everything will turn out okay in the end. That she can find herself back in the arms of those who loved her the most.

He gently allows the girl to pull on his mustache and play with it while he climbs up carrying her.

Soon, the pair reach the dry stone of the top of the well, and the head of the squad's specialist suddenly pops over the edge, a smile on her tanned face, her eyes shining with glee.

"Hello, you two! Welcome back." One of Petains comrades says smirking and chuckling at the site of him getting his lovely mustache pulled by a small girl.

"Don't" Petain grumbles as he fully climbs out of the well with the girl.

"Someone gets her a blanket, now." The company captain calls out as he takes a step forward, removing his blue cap with golden lining, as he does so. "So… this is the survivor."

Petain's nods, as he raises a hand to the back of Claudette's head and giving her a reassuring pat and saying comforting words. "Once you're nice and dry, we'll see about finding your parents."

The child is handed off to Father Constantine who picks the little girl up and gently carries her to the supply wagons in the town. The company Captain then lets out a long, drawn-out sigh before saying grimly "Her parents are dead."

"Merde." Is all Petain can mutter.

In another part of the town

Colonel Fleurs oversaw the last of the so far found dead bodies burial. As he tried not to gag at the smell of the mutilated dead. despite having smelled it hundreds of times, the stench of the dead still makes him gag, especially ones killed, no murdered in such a manner.

He sees a rider gallop to him. He rides over to greet the message bearer.

"I bring urgent news from General Douay!"

"What is it?"

"Your Battalion is to march back and rejoin the rest of the army now."

"What!? We are currently in the middle of a burial!"

The messenger than shoves the letter into Fleurs hands

"Under direct orders Lt Colonel Fleurs, you are to pull back your battalion and join the army on its March to Metz. France is officially at war. You are at risk of having you and your men currently cut off so by god pull back." The little was short but to the point.

His country was at war. But it hadn't been specified who they were fighting or what they were fighting. He turns back to the bodies. He knew in his gut whatever or who ever did this senseless slaughter was the new enemy if France. They're was no getting over it.

Analysis of current situation and The French and Prussian armies

By the 11th of October the entirely of the French military would have become hastily aware by telegraph that they were official at war. The issue was they didn't know what. Most French units who had encounter the Grimm were wiped out due to being small scouting detachments meant for border patrol. No large battalion or Division had encounter the Grimm on any level.

Despite the fact that the country was now official at war with an invading focus the Grimm were current seen as a shadow invader laying slaughter to entire villages before moving. Most of the Grimm readily avoided the larger clustered and camps of French soldiers waiting for the larger wave wandering around Luxembourg to spread into France, Belgium, and Germany.

That larger wave would spread out on the 11th once Luxembourg had been turned into a dead man's zone. Villages that survived earlier Grimm attacks were overwhelmed when Grimm hoards in the tens of thousands arrived. Despite nearly every male in the French countryside owning a gun in the 1800s the quality of such weapons varied, and these villages only numbered in the hundreds of people, not enough to stop thousands of Grimm.

Columns of refugees began to flood towards major urban centers for safety bringing tails of horror and death behind them. How taking such villages wasn't all easy for the Grimm. Unlike with remnants villages French villages were unique in design for multiple ways. The main way was they were perfect kill zones in urban warfare. Many villages whose citizens choose not to fleet knowing of the Grimm threat ahead of time from the rapidly spreading news erected barricades and set up kills zones in the village streets. Such things were a common site during the actual Franco Prussian war due to many French male citizens believing that to flee one's home was cowardice. Several Grimm would be killed early on in urban skirmishes that erupted across the French countryside as house to house fighting occurred. Many citizens were also veterans of the Crimean and Austrian wars. When the Grimm entered villages there was a 50-50 chance the inhabitants would have either flied or have chosen to stay and fight.

Despite the Grimm hoards efforts to Remain undetected France was not Vale and lack the heavy forests that made Grimm ambushes and movement so easy, the Grimm were spotted from miles away. The Grimm hoards advance was also shadowed by the already mobilized French Cavalry of the army of the Rhine who on the 13th was placed under the command of Frances best General Field Marshal Patrice De MacMahon a man who had served under nearly every military campaign partaken by Napoleon the 3rd.

The French military staff was understandably baffled by what seemed to be an invasion from hell and with Eastern France already under threat Napoleon the 3rd after being hassled by his military commanders announced mobilization on the 14th.

The French army of the Rhine made up of the French 2nd and 3rd armies the only armies on the field so far had already begun a disorganized retreat before the French high command even had an idea of what was going on. Its divided divisional leaders decided to Retreat to Metz on the 10th when reports of "creatures form hell rampaging across the countryside flooded in. However halfway through the march French officers fought over whether to continue to the Retreat to Metz or swing over to Verdun and form a defensive line across the river Meus. Coordination between the 3rd and 2nd armies was further hamper by the fact they were separated by the Moselle River. Eventually it was agreed that the armies would commit to going to Metz but their early slow retreat due to their command disagreements allowed some of the Grimm to begin shadowing the army ahead of the main hoard.

In Prussia the situation was more confusing. Despite having better lines of communication, the Prussian high command wasn't so easily persuaded as the French high command about an imminent invasion and stubbornly held out until the 14th when it became clear to many small companies had been wiped out to claim that these stories were fantasy. Prussia however refrained from mobilization and instead ordered the small local border divisions to try to stem the Grimm tide on their own. Asking for support and mobilization the division commanders argued would be looking weak in the eyes of the Kaiser.

The Belgians were by far the fastest to respond to the immediate invasion. Unlike France the Germany the main bulk of the Grimm hoard hit their country earlier due to its proximity to the Gate. The large Grimm hoards had begun invading Belgium just hours after Luxembourg fell and as they swept across the south emptying villages and later towns King Leopold the 2nd had been alerted Via telegram. The Belgian army had ironically enough already been mobilized as in both our timeline and this one Belgium had mobilized it army several months before the Franco Prussian war in fear when the war broke out either Germany or France would invade Belgium to flank each other. The Belgian army was to form along the Meus and Liege to form a semi defensive line using the river that split the country in north and south and the fortress city of Liege on the River to spear head the defense.

Now let's look at the French and German armies to get a bigger idea of how they fuction at the time and how they would fair against the Grimm.

The French army was a professional army that had selective conscription and voluntary conscription. Most men were pulled off from the countryside due to their skills with the rifle rather than literacy in fact most French soldiers were unable to read maps or books or even write which is why we don't have as many notes from French soldiers to their families as we do with Prussian soldiers. Despite this the French army offered good payment and equally as good benefits which led to 40% of the French army being made up of veterans from various campaigns the empire conducted as well as an experienced officer's staff. The French army at the time was nearly 400,000 men strong with a reserve force of double that.

The Prussian army on the other hand was built upon universal conscription for a much shorter service period than the French army. Despite having a starting army of just 200,000 the Prussian could call upon a human wave of 1 million men and unlike the French have the means to transport them as quickly as possible to the Frontline due to the countries large railway system. Now let's talk about weapons and formations

armies of the late 1800s were formed up like this.

An army is made up of 150,000-80,000 men. An army consists of up to 4 corps, which are made up of 4 divisions which are the made up of 4 brigades. Brigades, divisions, core are command by Generals while the army is commanded by a field marshal.

Brigades are then divided into Regiments and then battalions which are each command by Colonels and LT colonels. French Regiment have up to 2500 men while Prussian 3,000. Then battalions have up to 3-4 companies under the command of a captain, a major or LT. Then these companies have platoons in them commanded by a Seargeant. Orders are given to the men at the regiment and battalion level.

Some of sizes might differ in strength and name depending on the branch of the military with Cavalry being divided into Squadrons and then Detachments instead of Battalions, companies, and Platoons. For the French it gets even more complicated as the French sported elite units such as the chasseurs which were light infantry, Alpeni which were mountain infantry, and then Zouves which are soldiers who have fought in Frances wars in Africa and Vietnam and may be made up of troops from said colonies. Then the French have the imperial guard which wear old Napoleonic war uniforms to showcase loyalty to the regime and are the best trained of the French army.

The German army is made up of conscripts while the French is made up entirely of professional soldiers and marksmen with most conscripts having been hunters or had some profession involving extensive use of firearms before conscription. This makes training easy and quick.

Napoleon the 3rd had tried to pass into effect a law to broaden the conscription and volunteer requirements, but it was barred by the military and French politicians. Germany on the other hand can call of millions to aid in its nation defense while France is constrained in that manner.

In terms of weapons the French and Germans are equipped with weapons of unprecedent killing power. It will be the infantry doing most of the dying and fighting and are exposed to danger constantly when fighting an enemy such as the Grimm. Despite popular belief the Franco Prussian war was not a Napoleon style line battle war and muskets were not used.

Most men would fight behind cover, laying down, crouching down, or shooting from houses and farms. The German Needle gun helped win the war against Austria in 1968 but is now obsolete compared to the French Chassepot.

The German Needle rifle was first used against its own people when the military fired it against Anti Monarchist Protestors in the 1860s. It was able to carry 4-6 rounds inside its cartages and was used to slaughter the Danes in the second Schweig war. Despite it being able to carry a large amount of ammunition for its time it was horribly inaccurate and despite having a range of 900 meters was only effective at 400 meters.

The French Chassepot on the other hand was developed in the 1850s and debuted in 1866 quickly becoming the standard rifle for the French army and the first bolt action rifle in history and first modern military rifle in history. It was further improved upon witnessing the Prussian slaughter of the Austrians in the 6-week war/The Brothers war that same year.

The rate of fire the Chassepot has despite only being able to carry 1 round instead of 4-6 like the Prussian needle rifle is 2x times faster due to how easy it is to reload. It also could be comfortably loaded in any position making it also an excellent sniper rifle. To add to its advantage unlike most Standard Dust guns used by town militias or Atla's army it isn't prone to jamming and actually outranges most standard Dust Guns in RWBY having a range of 1,200 (Later variations used in the Franco Prussian had a range of 1700 meters) meters vs the standard Atlas assault rifles having a range of 400 meter while snipers 600. (There is a super interesting reddit post you can find that was helpful in me finding the functionalities of Atlas and Remnants standard dust guns.) Its range of effectiveness or kill range is 1,000 meters with the later variations increasing that to 1,300 meters. Unlike dust weaponry however its bullets cannot be modified to make people get lit on fire on impact or freeze for example. In terms of regular ammunition, the Chassepot easily beats standard dust rounds in penetration power and useability but lacks the ability to be easily modified to the insane proportions dust bullets can be. Same concept applies to the German needle gun to an extent.

The biggest difference between dust ammunition, that of the needle rifle, and Chassepot was the design of the bullet. The Prussian needle rifles ammo was a compact Lead ball with a pointed tip at the end. The Chassepot has a clear advantage here. The Chassepots bullet is near identical to that of a modern bullet and is 11 millimeters in size and is also lighter than that of the Needle gun and dust rounds, leading to it having a better ballistic performance than the Needle rifle and a near flat trajectory which beats dust bullets in that aspect. Dust Bullet have emblems on them to show what types of Dust are in that magazine. For example, a magazine that uses Fire Dust has an emblem of a flame on it. Dust bullets also like I stated earlier can be augmented for greater power and use giving them a clear edge of those used by the Needle rifle and Chassepot however they are the heaver bullets meaning while they do have greater fire power, they lack the range of the Chassepot. Dust guns have better sites and have scopes which beats any 1800s gun.

Now in terms of melee weapons the Chassepot had a fairly modern bayonet that was more advanced than the socket bayonet of the Needle rifle however would pale in comparison to most melee weapons in RWBY. However, there is one aspect the Prussian Needle rifle has over the Chassepot and Dust guns. The ammunition is far easier to produce with dust ammunition clearly having to be made and handled well with the same applying to the Chassepots ammo in some regards, however the Needle rifles ammunition is simpler to make and easier to mass produce.

Now let's talk about in terms of what these bullets can do to people and beings. In 1870 a German surgeon made comparisons between a victim of a Needle rifle and that of a Chassepot rifle. The smaller high velocity round of the Chassepot inflicted much more damage than the Prussian Needle rifle. The wounds caused by the Chassepot rifle were up to that point the deadliest in Human history. The Needle rifles bullets and regular dust bullets (Non augments) as we see in Rwby, have nearly the same entrance and exit holes and the premiant wind cavity is moderate. The Chassepots bullets are much different. It causes large damage to the surrounding tissue meaning even if the entrance wound was small the exit wound would be 7x large than that of a needle rifle and around 2 to 3x larger than the exit wound caused by standard dust munitions. The combat experience also showed this bullet caused displacement of surrounding muscle tissue and bone making the wounds horrific during the late 1800s.

Dust bullets are made similar to those of real-life gunpowder-based musket balls are. Dust, as depicted in the show, is a unique substance that primarily serves as a power source, not necessarily a projectile with the same destructive force as conventional ammunition and that of bullets used in WW1 and the war of 1870. While dust can be used to create various effects like freezing or explosions, it's not intended to be a piercing weapon unlike regular bullets.

In terms of range and efficacy the Chassepot out classes most of Remnants standard dust guns as long as we are strictly speaking of standard dust munitions instead of augmented ones. The crescent rose for example would out range and be superior to the Chassepot if we are talking about custom dust guns. In terms of effects and malleability dust rounds are superior. In terms of how easy it is to produce bullets on a large scale the Needle rifle wins. None of these weapon's ammunitions are adheringly superior or inferior to each other, they are just effective in different aspects. (Expect the Needle rifle as its inferior to the Chassepot and dust guns)

The last main thing to talk about is the French Mitrailleuse gun the. France was the first country to use machine guns on a large scale. The Mitrailleuse was used to great effect in the battles of Mars La Tour, Sedan, the siege of Paris, and Gravolette during the Franco Prussian war slaughtering men in droves. Unlike the Americans and British with their gatling guns France mass produced the Mitraileuse. There were 200 of them at Mars La Tour and around a similar number at Gravolette. An unknown but large amount were also used in the battles and sieges I mentioned. It had the ability to fire 125 rounds per minute. Had it not been for French military incompetence and German artillery superiority France would have won the Franco Prussian war.