I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 698 - 699: “This Is Our Mine!”

East of Chebienia Village, at the Stone Water Trough.

"Bastards! Don't even think about stealing our mine!"

Old Wicha raised his musket and fired toward the distant Austrian soldiers in gray-white uniforms.

For over 20 years, Wicha had been a miner. He never imagined he'd one day find himself on a battlefield, fighting an invading army.

Yet he and his fellow miners were doing an outstanding job.

The Austrians had been in Kraków for over two weeks, but half of Chebienia Village remained under the control of Umiayan Mining Company.

Anyone who doubted the resolve of these armed miners would soon be proven painfully wrong. In fact, their determination to defend Kraków far exceeded that of the regular army.

Previously, these miners had barely scraped by, living hand-to-mouth. A simple injury or illness could mean hunger for their entire family.

But the arrival of French investors brought advanced steam engines, doubling silver production. Wages had risen sharply, and the mine now provided decent benefits.

For the first time, the miners didn't have to worry about food. They even enjoyed meat two or three times a week. New clothes and furniture were no longer unattainable dreams.

They could have endured their previous hardships indefinitely, but once they'd tasted a better life, they would rather die than return to the old ways.

Yes, literally die rather than go back.

When they learned that the Austrians were coming to seize their silver mine, they didn't need anyone to rally them. They spontaneously gathered, armed with the flintlock muskets previously issued to protect against "bandits," and vowed to defend the mine to the death.

Now, a group of 200 Austrian soldiers was advancing toward them, stopping just beyond 90 paces—outside effective musket range.

After a volley of musket fire from the miners, the Austrians panicked, turning and fleeing as if struck by cannon fire. Some even abandoned their weapons.

[Note 1]: In battles where morale is low, even a symbolic display of resistance can scatter troops.

It wasn't that the miners were exceptional marksmen—far from it. The Austrians simply had no will to fight and refused to risk their lives for a pointless war.

The foreman shouted, "Hold fire! They've retreated!"

The line of miners quickly quieted down.

These miners had a notable strength: discipline. In the perilous work of mining, those who didn't follow orders often didn't survive long.

"Cowards!" Wicha's son muttered as he cleaned his musket, grinning.

Nearby, his comrades chimed in:

"They didn't even make it as far as last time!"

"That patch of brush will probably remain their limit forever…"

Suddenly, the foreman shouted, "Watch out! They're coming again!"

Wicha looked ahead, his expression calm. This time, over 300 Austrian soldiers were marching forward in a tight line formation, drums beating in rhythm.

Behind them were dozens of officers in white-and-green uniforms.

Further back stood General Wilhelm and his staff. Frustrated by his troops' repeated failures, Wilhelm had come to the front himself, overseeing an assault at the scale of an entire battalion.

This time, Wilhelm sent nearly ten times the number of defenders—there were only about 40 miners at the water trough.

The Austrian soldiers, driven by harsh orders, marched to within 40 paces of the miners. Under the curses of their officers, they raised their muskets.

The miners frantically returned fire as fast as they could, but their small numbers couldn't inflict significant casualties.

The Austrians' earlier retreats weren't because of the miners' skill; they had simply lacked the resolve to fight.

"Fire!" an Austrian major shouted.

Under the watchful eyes of their officers, three companies of Austrian soldiers reluctantly pulled their triggers.

A deafening volley thundered across the village. Nearly half the miners grunted in pain and collapsed as musket balls tore into them.

Outnumbered and outgunned, the miners stood no chance in a prolonged firefight.

The foreman, clutching his bleeding arm, rasped, "Fall back! Head to the jewelry shop!"

Wicha grabbed his son, helping him to his feet, and ran north with the others.

Another volley erupted behind them. When Wicha glanced back, he saw the foreman still standing by the water trough, holding his musket in one hand, utterly still.

The survivors reached the jewelry shop, only to find that the hired mercenaries stationed there were also locked in fierce combat with Austrian troops.

The Austrians outnumbered them several times over.

Despite the low morale of the Austrian troops, General Wilhelm was a seasoned commander. Realizing his men's reluctance to fight, he had spent two weeks preparing.

He scattered his forces around Chebienia, assigning them to battalion-sized units and deploying his personal guards as field overseers. Officers had been authorized to shoot any soldier who retreated. Wilhelm himself patrolled the frontlines.

Under this brutal discipline, the Austrian army of 20,000 slowly pushed the mining company's defenders out of Chebienia over five days of intense fighting.

Amid the chaos of gunfire and cannon blasts, Wicha climbed onto the roof of a two-story building to get a better view. Spotting the mining company's patrol flag in the distance, he shouted to his son and the miners around him, "Head for Mrs. Malyusz's flower shop—move!"

When they reached the flower shop, they overheard the patrol leader, Markowski, speaking to a mercenary officer:

"There are too many of them. We need to retreat into Tarnowskie Góry."

Wicha and the others quickly joined the retreating patrol.

Before long, gunfire erupted ahead of them.

Markowski galloped over on horseback, shouting, "The Austrians have blocked the path ahead—turn east!"

Wicha nodded anxiously. "He must mean the small trail by the washing ponds. That leads into the mountains too."

The mountains offered little natural defense—they were barren and rocky. But it was their only option.

A group of mercenaries stayed behind to cover the retreat. As the main group approached the washing ponds, the thunder of cannon fire suddenly roared ahead.

A shell screamed through the air, obliterating a tree just steps away from Wicha. Splinters flew everywhere.

Markowski's face darkened. "They're ahead of us too!"

Cut off on all sides, with the main Austrian force closing in and enemy troops behind them, their only hope lay in breaking through the blockade.

Markowski drew his saber and shouted, "Charge with me!"

The miners roared in response:

"Don't let them take our mine!"

"This is our mountain! Forward!"

Amid the drumbeats, Wicha advanced toward the Austrian line at the washing ponds. Grabbing his son, he yanked him back to shield him behind his own body.

Around them, comrades fell one by one, blood spraying the rocky ground. But as long as the drums continued, the miners pushed forward, marching ever closer to the Austrians, until the flashes of musket fire became visible right before their eyes.

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