Not long after acquiring by His Majesty's charge my first governorship did the enemies of France rush to pillage it. Caught off guard while training the peasants, I hastily retreat to the countryside and thankfully draw their force away from the town. A pitched battle commences. Can the plucky Dáire O Beolláin and his cobbled regiment stand against the terrifying Life Guard of General Arvid Christian Storm? Without bayonets or pikes, it seems unlikely.
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