The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 241

Chapter 241: The Advance of the "Rebels"

"Half a mile to go." At the front of the group of "peasants," Blanche, wearing a tattered felt hat, put away his telescope and said to the middle-aged man with light brown skin beside him, "This mission is highly dangerous. God bless us, hopefully, they won’t open fire on us right away."

"They shouldn’t. Previously, some rioters came through here, and they barely fired their guns," the middle-aged man replied with a thick southern accent. "When this mission is over, you’ll become the second commander of the operations unit."

Hearing this, Blanche's expression of complaint vanished instantly. Indeed, though this mission was risky, the rewards were ample—he would be promoted two ranks.

Moreover, according to the information he'd heard, the Police Bureau was about to be upgraded to the "Intelligence Department." That meant the second commander of operations would hold a rank equivalent to assistant to the Director of Police!

He grinned and courteously said to the middle-aged man, "You should also be up for a promotion after this, shouldn’t you?"

The other man waved his hand dejectedly. "You don’t know how things work in the Royal Police, do you? You need money to grease the wheels if you want a promotion..."

The two exchanged whispered remarks as they soon caught sight of the long stone fence of the manor in the distance.

Blanche gave instructions to his subordinates according to the plan: agents without weapons were to stand at the front, while those armed stayed behind. Then, leading the way, he headed toward the manor gates.

The soldiers guarding the estate, members of the Montcalm Corps, quickly spotted the group of over 300 "rebels" in the distance and shouted loudly to deter them: "Stop! This is the land of the Count of Sérurier. Leave immediately!"

Blanche's group of "peasants" started shouting back in their southern accents, "We’re starving! Please give us some food!"

"Show mercy, my lord..."

"Let us in! We’ll only take a little food..."

The soldiers at the gate exchanged glances and raised their weapons.

"Charge in!" Blanche shouted. He pulled a sling from his pocket, swung it several times with force, and with a flick of his wrist, sent a stone flying toward the soldiers.

The other "rebels" followed suit. The whirring sound of slings filled the air, and stones rained down on the soldiers like hail.

These simple slings could easily hurl stones 70 to 80 meters and were practically riot weapons, forcing the soldiers to retreat with cries of pain.

As the alarm bells rang, within moments, a battalion of soldiers emerged, advancing steadily on the "rebels" and firing a few scattered shots to try to disperse them.

The rebels immediately shouted back:

"These soldiers want to kill us!"

"These scoundrels even deny us the right to eat!"

"Guns? We have them too!"

"Fight them!"

Suddenly, the "rebels" in the rear pulled out firearms hidden behind their backs and began firing at the soldiers through gaps in the crowd.

The soldiers, clearly not expecting the rebels to have guns, were briefly stunned but quickly retaliated with more intense fire.

As fighting broke out on the manor's western side, several figures quietly scaled the northwestern corner and started setting fires in the flax fields...

...

Inside the luxurious castle-like building at the center of the estate, Marquis Saint-Véran carefully pondered his wording. "Esteemed Duke, this misunderstanding caused by the rebels... has made His Majesty distrust his military. Only you can explain the situation to His Majesty..."

Beside him, the secretary swiftly took notes before handing the document to the marquis. "My lord, please review this."

The Marquis of Saint-Véran glanced at it casually, signed at the bottom in frustration, and mentally calculated the cost of persuading the duke to lobby on his behalf.

200,000 livres? No... better make it 300,000 to be safe.

In the past few months, he had spent over 1.2 million livres trying to end his current embarrassing predicament gracefully. The "funds" provided by the Duke of Orléans were entirely depleted, and he had even dipped into his own reserves to the tune of more than 200,000.

As the marquis sealed the letter with his private seal, a sudden series of sharp gunshots echoed from afar.

A seasoned officer, Saint-Véran immediately recognized the sound—it was the distinctive crack of Châlons rifles.

"What’s going on?" he frowned and looked toward his attendant.

The servant hurried out to inquire and returned moments later to report, "My lord, a group of rebels is trying to storm the manor. It seems they have guns. Three of our men are dead."

"Guns? Did they raid the Police Bureau?" Saint-Véran gazed out the window and roared, "These lawless peasants! Order Major Bren to drive them off at once!"

"Yes, General."

As the aide turned to leave, the marquis suddenly had a thought.

Wasn’t he tasked by the crown to suppress uprisings? Now these rebels had conveniently delivered themselves to his doorstep. Why not use them to curry favor with the king?

At that moment, an officer burst in, exclaiming, "General, the rebels have set fire to the flax fields in the northwest corner of the estate!"

Saint-Véran rushed to another window and saw thick plumes of black smoke rising in the distance.

"These bastards!" He ground his teeth audibly.

The Count of Sérurier was an influential nobleman. To have his estate damaged while the marquis's army was stationed there was an outright humiliation!

Saint-Véran bellowed, "Order Bren to take two regiments and capture every single one of those rebels! Anyone who resists—shoot them on the spot!"

"Yes, General!"

...

Half an hour later, Major Bren led over 3,000 soldiers, including a cavalry company on the left flank, in a sweeping advance against the "rebels."

Hearing the sound of hooves, Blanche felt his blood run cold. He raised his telescope for a glimpse and immediately broke into a cold sweat. He shouted urgently to his men, "Run! Run! Drop your weapons!"

According to the "script" given by his superiors, he was supposed to provoke the Montcalm Corps repeatedly until they sent a few soldiers to confront him.

But why was there now an entire army of thousands?

The hundreds of "rebels" bolted desperately toward the eastern woods, pursued by the overwhelming force behind them.

After a frantic dash, the "rebels" saw they were only 200 or 300 meters from the planned forested sanctuary. But Montcalm’s cavalry was already upon them.

The slowest dozen rebels were swiftly cut down by sabers, their screams filling the air.

Blanche gritted his teeth and forced himself not to look back, finally diving into the woods as the cavalry regrouped.

Major Bren frowned as he looked at the forest and ordered three infantry companies to enter and flush out the rebels while the rest of the troops surrounded it.

His orders were promptly carried out.

However, barely ten seconds after the soldiers entered the woods, the crackle of dense gunfire erupted, and clouds of smoke billowed from between the bare trees.

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