The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 122

Chapter 122: The "Shame" of the French Guard

Once all the plantation owners had signed the contracts for planting potatoes, Joseph smiled warmly and stated that a dedicated person would soon be coming to handle their membership in the French Brewing Techniques Association and to teach their brewers the relevant skills.

Lastly, he kindly reminded everyone to watch out for unauthorized wine cellars using the new brewing techniques without permission.

The pasteurization process is quite simple, just controlling the temperature and heating time. Anyone who has worked with it could easily spill the secret. But now that France has patent laws and a patent office, anyone who dares to use patented techniques without authorization can expect to lose everything in compensation.

The plantation owners present immediately declared in unison that they would spare no effort in supervising this matter.

They were competitors, after all, and they couldn't wait for fewer rivals so they could sell more of their own products. Besides, they had paid membership fees and patent usage fees; how could they allow those who hadn't joined the association to "freeload"?

Some of them were even already contemplating how to buy up the estates of Count Ledene and the others once they went bankrupt, at a low price.

Joseph again praised their loyalty to the King before leaving the Arson Wine Cellar.

Upon arriving at the gates of the Arson Manor, he suddenly slapped his forehead. How could he have forgotten about him? He quickly ordered Éymond, “Count Éymond, please invite Mr. Vezinier over here.”

"Yes, Your Highness."

Before long, the Crown Prince's convoy slowly set off, leaving the grape plantation.

Inside the carriage, Joseph smiled at Vezinier and said, “Mr. Vezinier, just as I told you, everyone is eager to start planting potatoes.”

Vezinier, naturally remembering their bet, immediately spoke with great admiration, “Your Highness, your actions truly astonish me. Please, give your instructions, and I will do everything in my power to accomplish it.”

Joseph nodded with satisfaction, “Then allow me to thank you in advance for the efforts you will put in. We’ve seen some success in promoting potato planting in Bordeaux, and there are other similar regions where this method can be used, such as Burgundy and Provence.”

Upon hearing this, Vezinier immediately understood the Crown Prince's intentions. His eyes brightened—Burgundy and Provence were both famous wine-producing regions. Although their yields were not as high as Bordeaux's, the wine industry was still very influential there.

By using the new brewing techniques as bait and copying Bordeaux’s script, many plantation owners would likely be willing to plant potatoes.

Joseph continued, “By the way, Brittany and Normandy could also use this method to promote potato planting.”

“Ah?” Vezinier was quite puzzled, “Your Highness, but these regions do not produce wine…”

Joseph smiled slightly, “But they have a beer industry. My brewing techniques are not only effective for wine; they also work for beer and spirits.”

Vezinier’s eyes widened in amazement, “This technique is truly incredible!”

“It can even be used to preserve milk,” Joseph casually added, looking at Vezinier and smiling. “I hope you can go to these regions and use the brewing techniques to promote potato planting. Of course, I will provide you with the necessary personnel.”

Vezinier, who was a talented speaker and deeply committed to the task of promoting potato cultivation, was the perfect person to handle such matters. With him going back and forth, Joseph would save a lot of energy.

Vezinier immediately placed his hand on his chest and bowed, “Your Highness, it’s an honor to serve you. I will certainly ensure your satisfaction!”

He then discussed some important details with Joseph regarding the “exchange of potatoes for technology” before finally asking the question that had been on his mind: “Your Highness, could you tell me how you managed to significantly improve both the success rate and quality of the brewing process without even being involved in the brewing itself?”

Joseph did not hide the answer, for with the Patent Law in place, he was not worried about it being leaked: “Mr. Vezinier, brewing failures and poor quality are often due to wine turning sour. Do you know where the sourness comes from?”

Vezinier, being in the wine cellar business, was fairly knowledgeable and immediately responded, “There are several possibilities, such as poor quality grapes or inaccurate control of brewing time…”

Joseph smiled and shook his head after he finished speaking, “These factors may have some influence, but they are not the root cause.”

Vezinier’s eyes immediately widened, “The root cause? What is it?”

“Lactic acid bacteria.”

“Lactic acid bacteria?” Vezinier was stunned. “Isn't that a type of bacteria?”

Joseph nodded, “That's right. It’s the substance used to make yogurt.”

“But that’s yeast,” Vezinier blurted out.

“That’s a misunderstanding,” Joseph corrected. “In fact, it is a completely different type of microorganism that breaks down proteins or sugars and releases lactic acid, which is the source of the sourness in wine.”

“And this bacterium is everywhere in nature, so when brewing, it can easily mix with the grape juice or water, causing the wine to turn sour.”

“The good thing is, they are very fragile. If exposed to a 60-degree environment for half an hour, they will be completely killed.”

Vezinier, deep in thought, said, “So, according to you, if we just heat the ingredients used for brewing to 60 degrees and maintain it for half an hour, we can solve all the problems?”

“That’s right.”

Vezinier’s face was filled with disbelief, “It’s really that simple?!”

“That’s how science is. Once the process of exploration is set aside, the conclusions are often not that complicated,” Joseph nodded with a smile.

The next morning, just as Joseph was having his belongings packed to return to Paris, Governor Montsoreau and Vezinier suddenly arrived at his room.

Joseph was a little surprised. There were still two hours left before his scheduled departure. Why were these two coming to send him off so early?

After the formalities, Montsoreau looked somewhat awkward and said, “Your Highness, please forgive me, but after discussing with Mr. Vezinier, we thought it would be best to mention this matter to you.”

“What matter? Please, go ahead.”

“It’s like this, Viscount Hubert, Viscount Vienna, and Baron Chavrier wish to have an opportunity to pledge their loyalty to His Majesty the King. I mean, they want to plant some potatoes.”

Vezinier noticed that the Crown Prince had no recollection of these names and quickly reminded him, “Your Highness, they didn’t attend the meeting the day before.”

Montsoreau continued, “Your Highness, they’ve offered to plant potatoes on half of their plantation areas.”

Joseph furrowed his brows. Vezinier quickly advised, “Your Highness, they know they were wrong and beg for your forgiveness…”

Joseph knew that these three had invested quite a bit; just getting the governor to act as an intermediary would have cost them a lot of money.

If they wanted to drink the wine, they would have to pay the price. Since it was like this, he would make them pay a little more. The more potatoes they planted, the better.

So, with a cold expression, he said, “Tell them to plant potatoes on two-thirds of their plantation area, and their membership fees will be doubled. That’s the final offer.”

Montsoreau’s expression relaxed, and he quickly bowed, “Yes, Your Highness. They will surely thank you for your generosity and magnanimity.”

As for the other nobles who had yet to hear the news or were still hesitating, they had lost their last chance to join the Brewing Techniques Association. A bleak future awaited them.

...

A few days later, the Crown Prince's convoy entered Paris.

Joseph looked out through the carriage window and saw that many public toilets had been built along the streets, with citizens coming and going. Occasionally, he spotted a manure cart, filled with farmyard waste, being pulled by horses toward the outskirts of the city.

There were also numerous signs posted along the streets, declaring "No Public Urination," with police officers watching closely for anyone attempting to relieve themselves in public. As soon as someone showed signs of doing so, the officers would blow their whistles and rush over to issue a scolding.

The effect was quite evident. The amount of human waste on the streets had decreased by about 70 to 80 percent, but there were still occasional offenders who would relieve themselves in public, leaving their marks behind. This, however, was not surprising. It would take more than a single day to instill in the populace the habit of maintaining public hygiene.

At this moment, Paris, compared to other major cities in Europe, was already considered to be quite clean and tidy.

Joseph took a deep breath, feeling the air in the city had become much fresher. It no longer carried that sense of constantly being in a public restroom.

As the carriage passed over the Seine River, Joseph, not sure if it was just a trick of the mind, even felt that the water in the river appeared to be clearer.

In reality, with the reduction in street waste, the amount of filth washed into the Seine by the rain had significantly decreased. Even the citizens who drew water from the river could faintly sense that the taste of the water had become "lighter."

This had prompted them to become more mindful of the issue of public urination. Many citizens had already begun reporting people who urinated in the streets to the police.

When the carriage passed by a relatively quiet public toilet, Joseph ordered it to stop. He then alighted from the carriage and, with some curiosity, entered the public restroom to experience it firsthand.

Inside, there was a large pit latrine, divided into four squat stalls by wooden partitions. The partitions were thoughtfully equipped with handrails. Directly across from the squat pits was a long row of urinals. Overall, it looked fairly organized.

Joseph relieved himself, satisfied, and exited the toilet. After walking a few steps, he suddenly felt something was amiss.

He turned around and looked. Everything seemed to be in place…

Then, suddenly, he realized something and his face darkened—this public toilet only had one door, meaning there was only a men's toilet?!
He recalled the public toilets along the way and summoned Éymond to ask. After confirming, it was indeed the case that all the public toilets only had men's facilities.

After figuring out why the Crown Prince was dissatisfied, Éymond tried to explain, "Your Highness, perhaps they think women rarely relieve themselves in public."

Joseph sighed, feeling increasingly troubled. It seemed that he couldn't avoid giving even the smallest reminders...

The convoy continued on, and as they got closer to the city center, various promotional posters for Fashion Week appeared on both sides of the streets. The intersections had been equipped with directional signs in multiple languages.

According to Joseph's plan, advertisements for Fashion Week had already been running across Europe for more than a month. The advertising costs alone had amounted to over 100,000 livres.

The results were impressive. Now, the focus of noble discussions across different countries was the Paris Fashion Week. Even the high-end hotels in the Tuileries Palace had already been booked up to 70 percent.

It was easy to imagine that when Fashion Week officially began, a large number of foreign tourists would flood into Paris, spending gold coins generously, creating an event that would go down in history.

...

In a villa in the southern part of Paris, near the outskirts, a party was taking place.

Most of the attendees were military officers. Their small circle preferred not to engage in salons, so cocktail parties had become their most common socializing method.

In an inconspicuous corner of the party, a major officer with a mouthful of blackened teeth swirled his wine glass and spoke in a low voice, "Aurora, tell me about the activities of those despicable policemen."

A tall, thin lieutenant immediately nodded respectfully and lowered his voice, "I had my men observe the police training grounds for over ten days and discovered that they conduct artillery training every three days..."

The surrounding officers immediately displayed contemptuous expressions:

"A group of filthy policemen actually has artillery!"

"Hmph, they're lucky if they don't fire the shells into their own camp."

"Exactly, artillery is not something people like them can handle!"

Aurora continued, "On the days they train with artillery, they practice once in the morning and once in the afternoon, with intervals..."

When he finished speaking, the major with blackened teeth asked, "Have you investigated the nearby villages?"

Aurora nodded, pulled out a piece of paper, and pointed to the center of a rectangle, "This is the damned training ground, and these circles around it represent the farmhouses."

The major stared at the map for a while, then pointed to a circle on the northern side, "How far is this from the police training ground?"

"Half a furlong."

"That's a bit far. How about this one?"

"About a third of a furlong."

"Good. This one will do. There's also a dense forest nearby." The major let out a cold smile, "Cecilian, you take your men to keep watch."

He pointed to the north side of the training ground on the map, "Right here. Aurora, you're in charge of transporting the cannons, and after the job is done, you take them away. If anything goes wrong, hide in this forest."

"According to your intel, the police's last training session was around 4 PM. Just delay a little, and by the time it gets dark, you'll be able to return to camp without trouble."

"Understood!"

The major then turned to a small, blonde man sitting across from him, "Kerm, you and your men will be responsible for the shooting. You only have one shot, and it must hit the farmhouse. Afterward, retreat into the city of Paris immediately."

"Got it, you can count on me."

"Aurora, when is their next training session?"

"The day after tomorrow, sir."

"Good. Tomorrow, you go familiarize yourselves with the terrain, and we'll make our move the day after tomorrow." The major raised his glass, grinning fiercely, "To the police—who dared to insult our generals and the French Guard! This time, we’ll make sure they remember it!"

These men were the officers of the French Guard.

The last time, the commander of the French Guard, Bessonval, had been forced to retreat by policemen armed with guns outside the police academy training grounds. He saw it as a great humiliation and held the head of the police academy and the head of Paris Police responsible for this affront.

Of course, as a senior officer, Bessonval knew that dealing with these two required political maneuvering, but his subordinates were eager to take immediate revenge.

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