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Prologue
Brödrafolkens Väl
Or
The Lion of the North

"Sweden is the Lion of the North, and when she roars, Europe trembles."​

Storkyrkan, Stockholm, January 14th 1778
“Do you, Charles of Holstein-Gottorp, By the Grace of God, King of the Swedes, the Goths and the Wends, King of Finland, take Princess Elizabeth of Great Britain and Ireland, to be your lawfully wedded Wife, until death do you apart?” King Charles stood up confidently; “I do.” He replied. The Priest turned to the girl beside him. “And do you, Elizabeth of Hanover, Princess of Great Britain and Ireland, take Charles, King of Sweden, to be your lawfully wedded husband, till death do you apart?” Elizabeth looked nervous but never the less replied “I do.” Charles noticed that her Swedish was improving. The Priest smiled and closed the bible in his hands, “I now pronounce you man and wife.” Many in the audience cheered and Charles kissed Elizabeth tenderly, he loved her dearly and one day, perhaps she would be Queen.

Friedland, Prussia, 14th July 1807
“Stand and fight, you fools!” Storms of men, clad in the dark green of the Russian Empire broke and scattered as French Canister Shot tore through their ranks, the cavalry had been decimated by Napoleon's forces and now all hope seemed lost. Major Isaac Dubrov watched in horror as the Dragoons under his command scattered with the rest of the Russian forces. The flag bearer he had liked so well had been a coward like the rest and the banner bearing the Eagle of House Romanov laid trampled and muddy on the ground. Dubrov stood defiant, he and the twelve men brave enough to die for their country. Cannister shot ripped through the ground around him and the last few Russian drummers ceased their sound, they had either been slain by the French onslaught or proven themselves cowards like the rest of the army. All of a sudden, the French bombardment stopped and silence fell over the battlefield. The French began shifting their forces away from the hill to the east. Dubrov looked through his spyglass and noticed the panicked movement away from the east, he didn’t understand. Why had the French artillery stopped firing? Why wasn’t Napoleon pressing his advantage? Despite the frantic French movement, Dubrov heard nothing bar the breathing of his men and horse. What broke the deathly silence was peculiar, it was a marching song, not a Russian one, Dubrov noted. It wasn’t coming from the French lines either, the song was strange and fast paced, far lighter in tone than any French song…


French and Russian Cavalry Clash at the Start of the Battle of Friedland

Dubrov’s face lit up with happiness as, advancing over the hill to east he saw a beautiful sight, a banner, flying high and proud. A yellow cross on a blue field, it was the most beautiful thing Dubrov had ever seen. He turned to his fleeing men and cried; “Look to the east, Russia is not alone!” Men turned their heads, they too had heard the strange song. Most men continued their flight, but enough turned to make a difference. The Russian retreat slowed, men cheering their new found friends. Suddenly, with a thundering of hooves, a hoard of cavalrymen, many bearing more banners of Sweden slammed into the French flank. The infantry buckled and ran, Russian men were now no longer running away from the French line but towards it, cheering as they went. The Swedish cavalry cut past the French infantry and into the artillery as Swedens own guns rang out and holes in the French infantry began to appear. The French cavalry, which had been pursuing Russian forces to the west had finally circled around and came to face their Swedish foes. The Swedish Cavalry pulled back and as they did, the first numbers of Swedish Infantry marched over the crest of the hill. The French, caught between the Russians to the North and Swedes to the East, began to crack. In a final attempt to savage the battle , Napoleon deployed much of the cavalry he had kept in reserve, throwing everything he had against the advancing Swedes. The Russian Infantry began advancing up to engage with their Swedish Allies and a hole formed between the lines. Dubrov put his officers looking glass to his eye and saw something incredible. Sitting atop his horse, exposed bar a few dozen guardsmen and advisors, was Napoleon Bonaparte himself.Napoleon’s officers had begged him not to show in person, but he insisted that he lead himself, partly because it would be good for morale and partly because he didn’t trust his generals to secure the complete victory needed to knock the Russians out of the war. Dubrov would make him pay for that decision. Pulling his carbine from his shoulder and rallying as men Russian cavalrymen as he could, he ordered a group of Russian infantrymen on an advance towards Napoleons position from the North, whilst he and the Dragoons he had gathered stormed west, into the forest.

Napoleon acted exactly as Dubrov would have expected, faced with overwhelming force from North and East he called a general withdrawal to the south-west, through the wide road that led through the Prussian forests. Dubrov and his men were already there, their horses several hundred yards behind them, the Russians had concealed themselves in the forest. As Napoleon and his guard marched through the woodland path, Dubrov and his men put their muskets to their shoulders and fired. The French Emperor was hit with 7 bullets, his throat instantly spurted blood and his horse fell to the ground. The Imperial Guard stood, stunned for a moment, before pursuing those who had slain their emperor, but it was too late. Dubrov and his men had already fled and though French shot whipped past them, not a single Russian Dragoon fell.
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