The French are coming, the French are gone, the French are coming again, the French are gone.

The Florentines felt that their city was like a lively door, and the French, or the armies of the powerful countries represented by the French, regarded Florence as a place where they could come and go at will, or to put it mildly, as a woman who could be stripped naked as long as her arms were thick.

Now that the French are coming again, many of the Florentine city guards simply threw away their weapons, took off their uniforms and armor, and then turned around and went through their own doors, waiting for the occupying army to enter the city and they would be greeted into the streets to welcome the new ruler.

Even Machiavelli couldn't help but be depressed after seeing the performance of the Florentine city defenses, he was ready to pack up and run away, after all, according to his experience, it still seemed that Louis XII was not as comfortable as under the Duke of Thesia in Rome.

But before he could lift his legs and slip away, a group of fierce armed gangsters surrounded him in the small building of the city hall that he temporarily used as a command post.

This really frightened Machiavelli, and the first reaction in his mind was "Sazi has seized power" when he looked at those untidy and angry guys.

Although the military Governor was reorganized, but the slightly smarter people also knew that as the Military Governor, he did not have the command of the army, and Sazi had obviously been completely overthrown by Machiavelli, and now the supreme commander of Florence was the former political officer, so now watching those gangsters suddenly break in, Machiavelli's first thought was that he might become the second Savonarola.

"Where are you going, Officer?" A man who looked like everyone owed him a debt fiddled with his shuriken and asked Machiavelli, but he didn't really seem to want the answer, so without waiting for the frightened magistrate to reply, he added, "We are ready, just waiting for your orders, magistrate." ”

"Ready, ready?" Machiavelli was a little puzzled, but seeing that these people didn't look like they were going to pull themselves out and hang themselves on the lamp pole, his spirit relaxed a little, and then he followed the man's hand and looked out the window into the street, and then he was stunned.

A large group of people were coming from all directions in the direction of the town hall, some of them dressed in all sorts of costumes, some of them looked like wealthy small landowners, and some of them looked like outlaws who had nothing but a life, and they were carrying a variety of weapons, in addition to the various murderous gadgets that were common on the battlefield, and some were carrying strange guys who were obviously not so common.

But as messy as they were, Machiavelli saw in them the same thing, the same unsettling anger as the man in front of him.

"We're the Guild Guard," the man said to Machiavelli, then shrugged his shoulders, "or whatever you want us to call us, we're here to answer yours." ”

Machiavelli was stunned for a moment, and only then did he suddenly remember that he, it seems, really had such a team.

In times of war, it was not particularly new for a guild to have an armed escort, and almost all guilds of smaller guilds would pay for mercenaries to protect their caravans.

However, everyone also knows that the role of these escorts is at most to protect the caravan from those gangsters along the way or some part-time robbers, who have no strength and no courage to deal with the army.

It was Napoli that changed people's perception of the convoy.

When dealing with the invading French, the Queen of Naples, in addition to mobilizing all her troops, also recruited all the armed convoys of the Neapolitan Chamber of Commerce, and it was these armed convoys, after besieging the Naples royal palace for half a month, that finally forced the commander of the Naples occupation forces of the French army at that time, Charlon, to surrender!

It's just that although this can be said to be a miracle, Machiavelli never really thought that the Florentine Chamber of Commerce Escort could also create such a miracle, so he didn't even have time to look at the Chamber of Commerce Escort that claimed to be the Florentine Reserve Army.

But now he was stunned to realize that he seemed to be wrong, especially when he saw that the guards were dragging a few cannons that didn't look like they were supposed to be used by the chamber of commerce's bodyguards, and Machiavelli felt that he might have overlooked.

Louis de Bourbon's French army approached the city of Florence with a slow but unstoppable momentum, and although the gates were closed, the Duke of Bourbon was full of confidence, and he was interested in how long the Florentines could hold out, an hour or a morning, and perhaps they still had some courage, so it was probably not until dinner time that they could open the gates and surrender.

The Duke smiled so elusively, although it seemed a little inappropriate to let the clerk make a record of the battle before the city was taken, he believed that even if it was later, the Florentines would not delay until the next day to surrender.

The Duke of Bourbon was convinced that he would not be wrong, until a cannonball whizzed from the city wall and crossed the distance between the two sides, and smashed into the open space not too far from the Duke, and as the cannonball made a muffled sound and set off an earth dragon on the ground, the smugness on the Duke's face instantly froze at this moment.

"Fired?"

Even then, the Duke was still a little incredulous, and while he strangled the frightened and jumping horse, he stared at the shallow ditch that had been plowed out by the cannonballs, although not deep, but made people's hairs stand on end, and then he suddenly commanded loudly: "All the troops stop!" ”

In fact, without the Duke's order, when the cannonball passed overhead, the French army in the front had already stopped, and they even looked back at the place where the cannonball fell, and when they looked at the city in front of them, which seemed to be within reach, many people's eyes already showed nervous looks.

Florence doesn't seem to want to be a woman who can be stripped naked at will.

On the city wall, Machiavelli, whose forehead was covered with sweat, looked at the French army who involuntarily stopped because of this cannon, and involuntarily clenched his fists excitedly.

"That's it," Machiavelli said to a few of the ugly-looking officers of the city defense around him, "See, the French are nothing more than that, we have soldiers and artillery, and the only thing missing now is a victory." ”

Listening to the nonsense of the administrative officer, the officers looked at the group of people who were busy and did not look like the city defense army in their eyes, and for a moment they had the illusion that they were all superfluous.

Another cannon shot, but this time it came from the direction of the French.

A cannonball slammed into the city wall, smashing down an encased stone, which collapsed with a clatter, revealing the bricks and mud inside.

The French attack on Florence began at noon on 9 July with mutual artillery bombardment between the two sides.

Louis XII sat quietly in a chair, which was made for him by a Milanese craftsman during Charles VIII's expedition to Italy, which was sturdy and comfortable to sit on, but it was rare that the whole chair could be disassembled and assembled in a very short time, and if it was on the march, it could even be put into a special cowhide bag and hung on the saddle.

The king now sat in this chair and watched the army approaching the enemy position in the distance, and according to the scout's report, the Neapolitan army on the opposite side seemed to have built a fortification that curved inward on both sides, and then the whole enemy army was divided into two parts, front and rear, and stood behind this field fortification.

This was very strange to Louis, and although the scout's report had proved that the enemy army seemed to be preparing for a head-on battle with the French, the French king was very suspicious of the Neapolitan queen's true intentions.

With 3,000 men against a frontal enemy of almost 10,000, this is obviously a very stupid move.

Would the queen who had forced Charlain to surrender give such an order, Louis XII did not know, but it didn't matter anymore.

"Whoever gave the order, he has already handed down the death sentence to the entire army." Louis XII whispered, taking the scepter and tapping it lightly in his hand, but he did not hear the sound of the scepter falling in his palm except by the physical touch.

For at this moment, a burst of gunfire, unfamiliar to him, suddenly rang out from the fortifications opposite.

Louis's hand stiffened slightly, and then the scepter slowly fell into his palm, and the king stood up from his chair, carefully looking at the battlefield that was filled with gunsmoke in an instant, while silently counting in his heart.

After about seven or eight breaths, the same gunfire rang out from the French formation, and the French began to counterattack the enemy.

Groups of French troops, urged by the trumpets, began to speed up their pace towards the Neapolitan position, and some of the experienced veterans at this time shook off the young men who were frightened by the first round of muskets, and they seemed to have become extremely brave at this moment, and some of them even threw away their shields, brandished their swords and hand axes, and threw themselves at the fortifications that were close in front of them!

These veterans knew that at such a distance, it was safer to rush at the enemy than to hesitate.

Push them out of the way or jump right over them, and then just take a few more steps forward to get into the enemy's fortifications!

There was a shout that was about to start a demonstration before the massacre.

How many times have the enemy been frightened by the mere hearing this cruel roar.

A row of gun barrels peeked out of the fortifications at this moment, so close that even the faces of the enemy on the opposite side could be clearly seen, but these grenadiers did not waver.

Because in their eyes, these French are already dead.

Neat gunshots rang out, the first round, the second round, the third round!

There were no breaks, and the continuous firing instantly formed a barrage so dense that it was almost visible to the naked eye on the front with a limited width!

A group of French troops who rushed to the front fell, and many were beaten into a bloody sieve before they could make a sound.

The dense rain of bullets continued to move forward, breaking directly into the queue, some bullets made a terrifying "poof" sound in the human body, and many more bullets did not hit the target, but they brought a piercing and terrible roar in the air.

For a while, the method that was originally marching in a row appeared in an irregular gap in the central part.

"The formation of a maximum of dense fire within a certain frontal fire range can form a sufficiently large kill for the enemy."

Standing behind a breastwork, she looked at the position in front of her earnestly, muttering in a low voice some strange words that most of the people next to her did not understand, but if they were heard by the students of the Military Academy of Bologna, they would surely guess that they were sentences from the book "Book with Generals" written by the Duke of Rome Thesia.

The dense firing was short, so short that the French army who had been hit head-on almost had time to judge what had happened, and the scattered formation of the formation instantly affected the two wings, and Louis XII, who was standing high behind and observing the battle, immediately found that the two wings of his army seemed to be being stretched hard towards the enemy position.

The French king let out a slightly surprised "pout", believing that it should not have been the intention of the Neapolitans, and it was obvious that the attack on the center of his troops had inadvertently caused the French army to form an encirclement posture against the Neapolitans, which made Louis XII feel that things had become interesting for a while.

"But your Majesty, the Neapolitan position seems to be prepared," said one of the attendants, looking at the enemy's fortifications dug in a semicircle, with some hesitation, "and pay attention to the rejecting horses. ”

The squire's words caught Louis XII's attention, and he immediately looked closer to the right, and when he saw that the French army on the right flank was also slowing down their march in front of the rejection, Louis XII glanced at the squire.

"The enemy may be ......," the squire said, but his words were muffled by the sound of gunfire.

It was only then that Louis XII began to be a little surprised.

He never imagined that the Neapolitan army was actually dominated by muskets!

From the moment firearms appeared on the battlefield, the shock of this powerful weapon penetrated deeply into people's hearts.

But even the most daring generals used firearms as a kind of auxiliary weapon, and no general in this era dared to equip his army with such a dense number of firearms, because that would mean adding more muskets and having to sacrifice more cold weapons.

But the current Neapolitan army gave Louis XII the impression that it was an army composed entirely of muskets.

"Your Majesty!"

The shouts of the people next to him woke up Louis XII, who was a little stunned by this unexpected discovery, and he looked in the direction of his subordinates, and when he saw some generals running back and forth on horseback, trying to organize the somewhat chaotic troops that stayed in front of the rejection to continue the attack, the heart of the French king inexplicably swelled with unease.

Sure enough, a new round of shooting quickly sounded from behind the trench, and Louie's eyes narrowed slightly at this moment.

In the smoke of gunpowder, some people fell, some people were running, some people were just blindly shouting, and the horse that was hurriedly piled up and not strong became a terrible "dead line".

A very piercing and shrill horn sounded from the rear of the position, and the source of the sound moved rapidly through the French formation, and the trumpeter apparently tried to hear the order as many people as possible, and with the sound of the horn, the French troops, who had been hesitant by the heavy blow, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and began to retreat.

"Escaped?"

One of the grenadiers asked in surprise, and then suddenly jumped out of the trench and stood on the ground, letting out an excited shout: "The French have fled!" ”

This shout instantly provoked a response from the position, and the soldiers shouted excitedly: "The French have fled!" We beat them down! ”

For a moment, the cheers of the Neapolitans carried down the wind through a mass of corpses lying on the battlefield and wounded soldiers struggling to crawl over the dead on the ground, and reached the retreating French army.

The officers' expressions became unsightly, and some of the knights even stopped and began to turn their horses' heads, their spears slowly raised flat, and their eyes were on a knight riding a huge horse with a heavily armored and giant-like body riding a huge horse much stronger than the other horses.

"My lord, the king wants us to retreat." One of the knights lowered his voice and said to the knight, who looked like the titan giants of Greek mythology, "And the Neapolitan muskets are too powerful. ”

"Their muskets are indeed very powerful, but it depends on whether they compare to the knights of France." As he spoke, the Giant Knight raised his arm and made a circular gesture in the air, and the standard-bearer beside him immediately shook a flag with a unicorn's head mark.

The knights began to assemble, and no one spoke except for the sound of horses' hooves and weapons rubbing, and when they saw the giant knight, they pointed their spears to the ground, and saluted him with the highest respect of a knight.

"Follow me."

The knight's voice was not loud, and no one heard it except for a few people around him, but as he slowly turned his horse's head, the others followed.

They formed two long queues on either side of the knight, all in front of them pointing forward with their spears pointed forward, while those behind drew their heavy swords.

"Knights, we soon know what our fate is," said the knight chief, lifting his mask and speaking to his companion, a wrinkled face, and when he had said this, the knight put down his mask and raised his spear, and through the crack in his helmet came a dull but powerful cry: "France! ”

"France!!"

The shouts of the knights shook the battlefield, and the French soldiers, who were still retreating, stopped, and looked back at the knights, some of whom had involuntarily followed them back.

The knights are charging!

The ground shook, the earth was trampled by the huge horses' hooves, and the knight's armor glistened in the sun.

Everyone was attracted by the actions of these French knights at this moment, Louis XII had already jumped on horseback, his eyes were fixed on the group of knights who were rushing towards the enemy camp, and at the same time, the French officers had once again signaled to the standard-bearers around them, and countless pairs of eyes were gathered on the group of knights rushing towards the enemy at this moment!

"France."

Standing behind the breastwork, Shosha also seemed to be infected by the feats of these knights, her clenched fists in front of her chest, her eyes fixed on the enemies who were getting closer.

Then, she heard an order from someone not far from her: "Heavy Attack Soldiers, Prepare ~ Release!" ”

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