Chapter 240: Advancing "Rioters"
“Only 0.25 kilometers left,” Blanche, wearing a tattered felt hat, lowered his telescope and said to the light-skinned middle-aged man beside him. “This mission is dangerous. God forbid those fellows don't start shelling us directly.”
“They shouldn't,” the middle-aged man replied in a thick southern accent. “Rioters have been here before, and they barely fired a shot. Once this mission is over, you'll be the second-in-command of the action team.”
At his words, the complaining expression on Blanche’s face vanished instantly. Indeed, while this mission was dangerous, the reward was substantial—a direct two-rank promotion.
Moreover, according to what he had heard, the Police Intelligence Bureau was soon to be upgraded to an Intelligence Department. In that case, the second-in-command of the action team would be equivalent to an assistant Commissioner of Police!
He grinned and politely asked the middle-aged man, “You'll probably get a promotion this time too, won't you?”
The latter dejectedly waved his hand. “Don't you know how things are with the Royal Police? You need to bribe your superiors to get promoted...”
The two chatted in low voices, and soon faintly discerned the long, narrow stone fence of the estate.
Blanche, following the original plan, gave his subordinates instructions, telling the unarmed agents to stand at the front and those with guns to stand at the back, then led the way towards the estate gate.
The Montcalm Legion soldiers guarding the estate soon spotted the more than three hundred "rioters" in the distance and quickly shouted a warning: “Halt! This is Count Sérurier's estate! Get out immediately!”
“Have mercy, sirs...”
“Just let us in, we'll only take some food...”
The soldiers at the gate exchanged glances and raised their guns in unison.
“Let's charge in!” Blanche exclaimed, pulling a sling from his pocket. He spun it around a few times, then with a flick of his wrist, a stone flew towards the soldiers.
The other "rioters" followed suit. For a moment, the whizzing of ropes filled the air, and stones rained down on the soldiers.
Such slings could easily hurl stones seventy to eighty meters, truly a perfect riot weapon. Soldiers cried out and stumbled back as the stones impacted.
As the alarm sounded, a battalion of soldiers soon surged out, steadily approaching the "rioters" and firing a few haphazard shots to try and disperse them.
The rioters immediately shouted: “These soldiers are going to kill us!”
“Damned scoundrels, they even want to strip us of our right to eat!”
“It's just guns, isn't it? We have them too!”
“Let's take them on!”
The "rioters" in the back ranks suddenly produced guns they had hidden behind them, firing at the soldiers outside the estate through gaps in the crowd.
The soldiers evidently hadn't expected them to actually have guns. After a moment of shock, they immediately returned fire with even greater intensity.
Just as exchanges of fire began on the west side of the estate, several figures quietly slipped into the estate from the northwest corner, setting fire to the flax fields...
Inside the luxurious castle-like building at the center of the estate, the Marquis de Saint-Véran was carefully weighing his words: “Your Grace, this misunderstanding, instigated by rioters... has caused His Majesty the King to grow suspicious of his army. Only you can now help me clarify the situation with His Majesty...”
A scribe nearby quickly transcribed it, then presented the paper to him. “My Lord Marquis, please review this.”
The Marquis de Saint-Véran casually glanced over it, then signed the letter with annoyance, calculating how much money it would take to get the Duke to lobby on his behalf.
'200,000 Livre? No... 300,000 would be safer,' he thought.
He had already spent over 1.2 million Livre pulling strings at Versailles in an attempt to honorably conclude his current embarrassing predicament. Not only had he used up all the “funds” the Duke of Orleans had given him, but he had also spent over 200,000 of his own.
Just as the Marquis de Saint-Véran was affixing his personal seal to the envelope, he suddenly heard the distant crackle of gunfire.
As a military officer, he was intimately familiar with that sound—it was the unmistakable report of Charleville muskets.
“What's going on?” he frowned, looking at his attendant.
The attendant hurried out to inquire about the situation, returning a moment later to report to the Marquis: “My Lord, a mob of rioters is attempting to force their way into the estate. It seems they also have guns. Three of our men have died.”
“Guns? Has the Police Bureau been robbed?” the Marquis de Saint-Véran exclaimed, glaring out the window. “These lawless wretches! Have Major Breun disperse them as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, General!”
The orderly was about to depart when the Marquis de Saint-Véran suddenly remembered something.
'Didn't the Royal Family want me to suppress the rebellion?' he mused. 'These rioters have just delivered themselves to my doorstep; I might as well use them to curry favor with the Royal Family.'
Just then, an officer hurriedly knocked and entered, exclaiming urgently to the Marquis de Saint-Véran, “General, the rioters have set fire to the estate's flax fields!”
The Marquis quickly turned to a window on the other side, and sure enough, he saw thick smoke billowing and swirling in the distance.
“These bastards!” the Marquis de Saint-Véran muttered, his teeth grinding together.
Count Sérurier was an extremely influential grand noble. For his army to be stationed here and yet fail to protect the count's estate—it was a complete humiliation!
The Marquis de Saint-Véran immediately bellowed: “Order Major Breun to take two regiments of troops and apprehend all of these rabble! Anyone who dares resist is to be shot on sight!”
“Yes, General!”
Half an hour later, Major Breun led over 3,000 soldiers, marching grandly towards the "rioters." On the left flank of the formation, there was even a cavalry company.
Blanche heard the thundering hooves and knew something was wrong. He grabbed his telescope, glanced through it, and immediately broke out in a cold sweat from shock, frantically shouting at his subordinates: “Run! Quickly, run! Throw down your guns.”
According to the “script” his superiors had given him, he was supposed to repeatedly provoke the Montcalm Legion until the Legion, thoroughly annoyed, sent some soldiers to attack him.
'How could they send thousands of troops right from the start?' he thought.
Hundreds of "rioters" ran for their lives towards the forest on the east side, with a vast army pursuing them relentlessly.
After a frantic dash, the "rioters" saw that they were only two to three hundred meters from their planned forest refuge, but the Montcalm Legion cavalry had already caught up.
The slowest dozen or so were instantly cut down by sabers, letting out cries of agony.
Blanche forced himself not to look back, and finally, during a lull while the cavalry turned to regroup, he dived into the small forest.
Major Breun frowned, looking at the forest, and ordered three infantry companies to enter and pursue, while the rest of the troops were to surround the forest from both sides.
His orders were swiftly carried out.
However, barely ten seconds after those three companies of soldiers carelessly entered the forest, a volley of gunfire erupted from within, and thick gunsmoke billowed up from among the bare trees.
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