Chapter 243: You Are What I Say You Are
The incessant sounds of gunfire and the panicked shouts of servants grated on Marquis de Saint-Véran's nerves.
Servants were helping him change into his military uniform, while he roared at the dust-covered Major Bleun beside him: "You said those were Berthier's troops?"
Straining his voice, the major shouted: "Their flags... and the Paris Police Academy..."
It wasn't out of confidence, but because his voice would be drowned out by the gunfire if he didn't shout.
"Are you out of your mind?" Marquis de Saint-Véran glared at him, his face dark, then snatched the telescope from an attendant's hand and grumbled as he headed to the roof. "So who's attacking me now? Berthier's three regiments, or some laughable police?"
He stepped onto the roof and immediately saw black gunpowder smoke billowing everywhere around the estate. The gunshots and bugle calls became even clearer, indicating intense fighting.
"Who is it, exactly?" Marquis de Saint-Véran raised his telescope and saw a line of infantry, four or five hundred meters wide, steadily advancing towards them.
The soldiers' ranks were well-ordered, and they were exceptionally proficient at firing on the move, their pace unwavering. The firing from his own side seemed to have no effect on them whatsoever.
At the same time, several companies of skirmishers advanced around the flanks of the line formation, using the terrain to their advantage. They quickly approached some of the outbuildings on the estate's perimeter.
His own soldiers, defending from within the buildings, were clearly losing the firefight. Two crucial houses on the south side had already fallen.
Soon, the skirmishers planted flags on the rooftops and began firing down at the defenders' ranks.
When those flags unfurled in the wind, Marquis de Saint-Véran's expression instantly became as if he had seen a ghost—those were indeed the flags of the Paris Police Academy! Major Bleun had not lied.
Then, amidst the swirling gunpowder smoke, he spotted the flags of Berthier's forces.
He immediately realized that only the royal family could mobilize both forces simultaneously. So, these were royal troops attacking him?
Attacking the elite Montcalm Legion with Berthier's three regiments and reserve police?!
He tried to shake off the sense of absurdity, then frowned deeply. The royal family's actions at this moment were equivalent to provoking a full-scale civil war—the military would never stand by idly!
"Is that Austrian bitch insane?"
Just as his mind churned with doubts, a heavy thud echoed from below the villa, and the entire building immediately shook violently, causing him to stumble repeatedly.
The attendant rushed forward to steady him, exclaiming urgently: "General, the house has been hit by cannon fire! Please, you must leave here quickly!"
Marquis de Saint-Véran's pupils constricted as he realized what had happened. The estate was enormous, stretching more than four kilometers in both length and width. Cannons on the outskirts of the estate couldn't possibly reach this far.
For cannonballs to hit this house meant the enemy had advanced within six or seven hundred meters!
He shoved the attendant away and peered down below the villa. Sure enough, on the west side, over a hundred enemy soldiers were exchanging fire with his personal guard.
The door on the rooftop was pushed open. The legion's staff officer stumbled in, shouting: "General, Lieutenant Colonel Bernis has surrendered to the enemy! The western defense line has fallen..."
"I see that," Marquis de Saint-Véran interrupted, his face grim. He didn't even have any reserves; what could he use to plug the gap in the defense line?
He watched as more reserve police swarmed in from the west, his own guard already suppressed by intense firepower and pressed back to the flowerbeds in front of the villa.
After a moment, he let out a long sigh and turned to his staff officer: "Issue the order: the entire army is to cease resistance."
"Yes... General."
Forty minutes later.
In the hunting lounge on the eastern side of the estate, Marquis de Saint-Véran cast a sidelong glance at the young man in cavalry uniform before him, his voice icy. "Your Royal Highness, I demand an explanation for this assault!"
He was not at all concerned for his safety. In fact, he believed the royal family was the one in trouble, and big trouble at that.
"Oh? An explanation?" Joseph smiled faintly. "The Montcalm Legion rebelled, and my soldiers heroically crushed this rebellion."
Marquis de Saint-Véran glared at him angrily. "What rebellion? This is slander!"
Joseph interrupted him: "No, this is what hundreds of journalists witnessed. I'm confident it will be in the papers tonight."
"Hmph, don't you realize you're provoking a civil war!" Marquis de Saint-Véran still held his head high. "The King persecuting his own army—do you think the other generals will stand by idly?"
"It's merely suppressing a rebellion; they won't have any objections."
"Who do you think you're fooling with such a trick?!"
Joseph waved a hand. "Whether you rebelled or not isn't about what actually happened, but whether the military high command accepts the conclusion that you rebelled.
"Oh, I'm sure the shrewd generals will certainly guess what happened here, but they will choose to believe you rebelled.
"Because this will sever your situation from theirs."
"Without widespread provincial uprisings to support it, and without a reasonable excuse, the military will not openly oppose the royal family." Joseph gestured towards the battlefield outside the window. "Your vast army didn't even hold out for two hours; this will make them even more aware of the royal family's fighting strength.
"Now, you are the rebels, and they are not. The royal family will punish the rebels, and they will be safe."
"Do you think, under these circumstances, they will pull you back into the 'non-rebel' camp, thereby having to stand on the same frontline as you?"
Marquis de Saint-Véran's face instantly turned ashen.
He knew the Crown Prince was right. As long as the other military leaders acknowledged his rebellion, they wouldn't need to risk opposing the royal family.
As for the truth? No one cared about the truth.
Especially with the newspapers swaying public opinion, they would merely go with the flow...
Marquis de Saint-Véran swallowed hard, looking nervously at Joseph. "You, what do you want?"
Joseph stepped forward and brushed the dust from his clothes, which had fallen there due to the cannon fire. "Don't worry. Cooperate with me, expose your conspiracy, and identify some individuals, and you can be exiled to the Besançon area, perhaps even retaining some of your property."
"Or you can choose to keep secrets for certain individuals, in which case your entire family will be exiled to the Seychelles."
He knew that according to traditional French custom, even if Marquis de Saint-Véran rebelled, the worst punishment would be exile. After all, Prince de Condé, "the Great Condé," had twice allied with Spain to instigate rebellions, driving Louis XIV out of Paris. Yet, his ultimate fate was merely exile, and he even returned to France a few years later.
Marquis de Saint-Véran nodded almost without hesitation. "Your Highness, please allow me to pledge my loyalty to His Majesty the King once more! Oh, the Duke of Orleans instigated all of this! Just two months ago, he told us a famine would break out..."
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