"What should I do?"

Marshal Saint Arno's condition was undoubtedly a great temptation for Pellissier, who longed to become an Imperial Marshal, so much so that Pellissier couldn't help but ask Marshal Saint Arno.

"Cough... cough..." Marshal Saint Arno coughed violently, and seeing this, Brigadier General Troche, who was standing beside him, immediately handed the damp towel hanging at the head of the bed to Marshal Saint Arno.

With the towel at his mouth, Marshal Saint Arno's coughing intensified. When he handed the towel back to Brigadier General Troche, a bloodstain had appeared on it.

"Marshal, are you alright!" Brigadier General Troche asked Marshal Saint Arno worriedly.

"What could possibly be wrong with me!" A faint smile appeared on Marshal Saint Arno's pale face. "Brigadier General Troche, please leave us for a moment!"

"But..." Brigadier General Troche looked at Marshal Saint Arno with concern.

"I have something to discuss with General Pellissier! Leave us now!" Marshal Saint Arno commanded Brigadier General Troche with a stern, indisputable tone.

"Yes!" Brigadier General Troche had no choice but to leave the room.

The room was left with only Marshal Saint Arno and General Pellissier. With a serious expression, Marshal Saint Arno said to Pellissier, "I won't live much longer!"

Hearing Marshal Saint Arno's words, Pellissier displayed a look of astonishment and hurriedly said to him, "Your Excellency, please do not say such discouraging things! The Expeditionary Army is still waiting for your personal command!"

"This is not discouragement!" There was a hint of despondency in Marshal Saint Arno's calm tone as he slowly spoke, "I am well aware of my physical condition! My body is now like a candle nearing its end; I can clearly feel the lifeforce draining away continuously! I'm afraid it won't be long before I embrace God's arms on this island. However, before I die, I wish to personally witness the fall of the Sevastopol Fortress! General Pellissier, I wonder if you could fulfill this wish for me! So that I have no regrets before I return to the Lord's embrace. I can promise you that during this time, I will not interfere with any of your actions!

When you capture the Sevastopol Fortress, I will personally appeal to Paris for recognition of your achievements!"

The condition proposed by Marshal Saint Arno was simple. If Pellissier could capture the Sevastopol Fortress before his death, he would commend his achievements to the Emperor, requesting that he be granted the title of Imperial Marshal.

After hearing Marshal Saint Arno's condition, General Pellissier remained silent for a moment, then stood up and saluted to respond to Marshal Saint Arno, "Your Excellency, I assure you that I will capture the Sevastopol Fortress as soon as possible!"

Having said this, Pellissier left Marshal Saint Arno's room.

"Thank you!"

...

The next morning at 5 a.m., under the shroud of morning fog, a serene and elegant atmosphere emanated along the banks of the Alma River. A soldier holding a bugle emerged from a tent hidden in the mist and stood on the dew-dampened lawn.

"Ooh... ooh..."

The loud and prolonged bugle calls awakened the French soldiers inside the tents from their sleep.

As they exited the tent, the French soldiers yawned while cursing the bugler.

After almost an hour of grogginess, the more than 60,000 French soldiers finally woke up completely, once again forming two aligned columns in units of companies.

At 7 a.m., the morning mist had completely vanished, leaving only a fiery red disk hanging in the eastern sky.

Looking at the thoroughly prepared Imperial Army columns ready to set out at any moment, Commander Pellissier, mounted on his horse, displayed a satisfied smile.

General Pellissier then looked towards the nearby Sardinian Kingdom, whose forces, like the French Empire, were fully assembled and ready to depart.

At this point, both France and Sardinia were all set, so presumably, the Ottoman Empire and the Kingdom of Britain were too.

To ascertain the status of the English and Turkish armies, General Pellissier summoned Captain Jerome Patterson and instructed him to check whether they were as ready as France.

Receiving his instructions, Captain Jerome Patterson rode first to the Ottoman Empire's camp, where in front of the Ottoman tents, instead of an orderly army, he encountered a group of soldiers scurrying around like headless chickens.

Captain Jerome Patterson had no choice but to enter the Ottoman Empire's camp, seeking out Omar Pasha, who was directing the logistics troops at the rear, to ask when the army could be reorganized. Omar Pasha told Captain Jerome Patterson that the Ottomans would need about two hours to complete the reorganization of their army.

After receiving the reply, Captain Jerome Patterson left the Ottoman Empire's camp and turned to the Kingdom of Britain's camp.

In the Kingdom of Britain's camp, Captain Jerome Patterson saw a scene very similar to what he had seen in the Ottoman camp.

The chaotic army and the poor logistics made it impossible for the Kingdom of Britain to organize their troops on schedule. Captain Jerome Patterson had to step into the British camp and, with the help of the soldiers inside, found Commander Lagren.

"Give me two hours!" Commander Lagren said before Captain Jerome Patterson could even speak.

"Alright!" Captain Jerome Patterson nodded and then turned his horse back.

On his way back, Captain Jerome Patterson felt immensely proud. Comparing the logistics of France and England, one could easily see the vast difference between the two armies. He dared to bet that in a battle of the same scale between the French Army and the British Army, the ultimate victor would certainly be the French Imperial Army.

Returning to the French camp, Captain Jerome Patterson recounted to General Pellissier everything he had seen in the Ottoman and British camps. After hearing Captain Jerome Patterson's words, General Pellissier couldn't help but sigh, "I never expected that the once-mighty Kingdom of Britain's army would become like this now!"

General Pellissier suddenly remembered that the mobilization capabilities of the French Empire were attributed to the Emperor's foresight.

If the Emperor hadn't "stubbornly" reformed the army's logistics and transport system, the French Imperial Army might have ended up in the same state as Britain now.

General Pellissier couldn't help but feel a bit more admiration for Jerome Bonaparte in distant Paris. At this moment, he was even more convinced that the Emperor in Paris was the one who would lead them to revival.

"Then we have no choice but to wait for them a little longer!" Pellissier said helplessly, then revised the battle schedule, changing the original attack plan to a coffee-making plan.

By 10:30 in the morning, the Allied Forces were finally fully assembled.

On the left side of the formation were the British troops, and on the right were the French troops. The Ottoman and Sardinian armies were positioned behind the British troops and in the middle of the French troops, respectively.

The commanders of England, France, Sardinia, and Turkey gathered once more, as the force of 150,000 troops advanced towards the opposite bank of the Alma River.

Today, Prince Menshikov did not choose to stay at the mountaintop but instead stayed with the Kazan Infantry Brigade at the multi-faceted fort. Through the telescope, he saw the British Army advancing toward them and couldn't help but mock loudly, "See that? Those Brits we beat back yesterday are here to die again today!"

"Then let's show them our might!" The surrounding soldiers responded with laughter as well.

Menshikov was unaware that this British Army attacking directly was vastly different from the day before.

When Britain's finest Highland Brigade infantry formed into ranks and entered the range of the Russian Empire's guns, Sir Colin Campbell, the commander of the Highland Brigade on horseback, exhorted his men, "Gentlemen, you are about to enter a glorious yet brutal battle, so I hope every one of you understands that your only task is to advance. Your mission is to crush everyone ahead of you. I will not allow you to do anything other than that. If you engage in anything unrelated to advancing, I promise I will severely reprimand you after the war. Your names will be erased from the parish, and the government will not give you any money... In short, your task is to cross this river, then climb to the hillside and fiercely reprimand those arrogant Russians! Understood?"

"Understood!" the Highland Brigade shouted loudly to their commander, holding their breath, then continued their advance.

"Fire!"

With Prince Menshikov's command, more than a hundred cannons on Kurgan Mountain began to fire. Many Highland Brigade soldiers were struck and fell to the ground by the artillery shells.

This time, the British Army exhibited a formidable resilience unlike before. When a Highland Brigade soldier fell, the one behind him rushed to the front to fill the gap.

After the Highland Brigade crossed the Alma River, the firepower from Prince Menshikov's artillery company became even more powerful. Each cannon volley could take out two or three soldiers.

Even so, the Highland Brigade soldiers continued their steady advance, only stopping once they reached the range of the Minie Rifles. The first row of Highland Brigade soldiers crouched down, and the soldiers in the second and third rows raised their Minie Rifles to fire at the Russian Empire from behind the mounds.

Most Russian Empire soldiers quickly ducked behind the mound, firing several shots, while the Minie Rifles struck the mound with a "pop" sound.

Then, the soldiers of the Russian Empire began their counterattack. However, since their rifles were still smoothbore, they couldn't inflict any damage on the Highland Brigade.

The two armies exchanged fire at the foot and midway up Kurgan Mountain for nearly half an hour, with hundreds of soldiers dying in this battle.

While Prince Menshikov focused all his attention on the British side, the French Empire made new progress unnoticed at the right end of the battlefield.

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