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Chapter 381: Casting the Net, Catching Fish

The rioting farmers immediately joined the shouts, "Don't be afraid! Everyone, charge!"

"Let's fight those nobles!"

"There are so many of us, don't be scared! Beat them up!"

However, the first to launch an attack came from the side of the nobles.

Two gunshots, 'Bang! Bang!', rang out from the noble contingent. The leading noble "commander" immediately frowned, turned, and roared, "Who's shooting wildly?!"

The Southern Netherlands infiltrator who had just fired hid behind others and loudly incited, "We must show these peasants what we're capable of!"

"Damn them, this is a riot! We'll use our swords to defend the town hall!"

"For His Majesty the King, warriors, teach those rabble a lesson!"

Most of the nobles who had come were young men, and with such incitement, their blood immediately surged. Another twenty or thirty began to raise their guns and fire.

Both sides continued to shout and curse from opposite ends of the street, nearly a hundred meters apart, constantly firing at each other. Soon, the cacophony of shouts and gunshots, mixed with gunpowder smoke, enveloped the surrounding two blocks.

Despite the immense commotion, both sides were greenhorns who had never seen battle. Coupled with the considerable distance, after half an hour of shooting, barely anyone had been hit.

Just then, whistles suddenly pierced the air around the street. Over 400 police officers, divided into two teams, appeared from behind both sides of the conflict, flanking them.

Reims hadn't been very peaceful lately, and the police were almost on full alert. However, constrained by the communication capabilities of the era, it still took them over an hour to assemble enough personnel to disperse the rioters.

The farmers' side immediately fell into disarray. Some, under the command of Saint-Just and others, continued to "fight," some had already slipped into the alleyways between surrounding buildings to escape, while many more simply looked around in panic, unsure of what to do.

Meanwhile, the nobles grew arrogant, arrogantly uttering provocations or spewing curses. Some even pointed from a distance, directing the police to intercept the fleeing farmers.

As the entire street descended into chaos, several men in gray coats and felt hats pulled low emerged from a corner. They presented their Intelligence Bureau credentials to the police leader, then pointed towards the nobles.

The police immediately turned and ran towards the nobles, quickly surrounding the more than two hundred individuals.

Several young nobles stepped forward, gesturing wildly at the police — since the Police Reform, most police officers were commoners, and although highly trained, they were still looked down upon by the aristocracy — and shouted, "Don't just stand there! Those rioters are getting away!"

"What are you doing? These are all nobles here. The people you need to arrest are over there."

The leading Public Security Inspector coldly assessed the group, then stated in a low voice, "Were you the ones who fired first?"

"Yes," a curly-haired noble declared haughtily, "Since you police can't handle those peasants, we'll teach them a lesson ourselves!"

"You all participated in the shootout just now?"

"That wasn't a shootout, we were protecting..."

The noble's sentence was cut short as the Public Security Inspector exchanged a glance with the surrounding police, then gestured towards the nobles before him, "Arrest everyone who participated in this riot!"

"Yes, sir!"

The nobles immediately panicked. Some began to curse vehemently, some flaunted their distinguished status, while many more tried to reason with the police. "What do you think you're doing? The rioters are those commoners across the street!"

"Let me go, I came to quell the riot..."

"Let me leave, look, I don't even have a gun."

In moments, about 200 arrogant nobles were pressed against the street-facing wall by the police, lined up in a row.

The Public Security Inspector walked past them, stating coldly, "Gathering and shooting citizens without authorization in Reims is an act of rebellion, regardless of your status!

"As for those without guns, your ceremonial swords could also kill; we simply stopped you in time."

A captain beside him leaned in and whispered, "Sir, they are all nobles, and some have very prominent statuses, you see..."

The Public Security Inspector shot him a glare. "Does being a noble mean you can gather for a riot?"

"No, of course not..."

"Take them all away!"

"Yes, sir!"

The Public Security Inspector's pocket held an order personally signed by the Director of the Police Bureau, instructing him to arrest all troublesome nobles. Thus, he felt perfectly confident and cared little for their statuses.

Of course, the Director of the Police Bureau had received instructions from His Royal Highness the Crown Prince to carry out such a large-scale arrest of "rioting" nobles.

When Joseph heard Talleyrand mention that many nobles had been incited to travel to the northwestern provinces to "defend noble interests," he immediately recognized this as a highly useful leverage point.

He then instructed Fouché to have his agents monitor these nobles, and ordered the Police Bureau to proceed without hesitation, arresting as many as they could if they had evidence.

...

Zesgehuchten Village.

Saint-Just vehemently roused the hundreds of farmers before him, proclaiming, "Don't be afraid of those nobles! Most of them can't even carry a gun for half a kilometer! Today, we almost routed them.

"Though we didn't storm the town hall the day before yesterday, next time we'll have even more people, and we will surely..."

The farmers periodically waved their arms and cheered along with him, their emotions running high. After these two experiences with riots, they no longer feared the police as much, and indeed, just as Mister Saint-Just had said, more and more people were gathering around them.

Next time, there would be two thousand people assaulting the town hall together. By then, why would they need to care about a mere few hundred police officers?

Especially the most boisterous farmers, those who rushed to the front, who had even received stipends from the Southern Netherlands "Committee," were now brimming with eagerness.

Saint-Just continued his speech, "To avoid having our blood sucked dry by those nobles for another fifty years, we must unite, we must use..."

Just as he was in the throes of his impassioned speech, Parish Priest Joly ran over, panting, and waved to the farmers, shouting, "Everyone, be careful! Don't fall for the schemes of those treacherous Southern Netherlanders!"

Saint-Just frowned, looking at him. "You priest who sold your soul, do you really think your trick of sowing discord will work?"

More than ten Mounted Police officers, trailing behind Father Joly, finally reached the village threshing floor where the assembly was held — not all mounted police rode horses, many rural mounted police were on foot.

The leader glanced coldly at Saint-Just, then leaped onto the stone platform where the latter had been speaking. He pulled a letter from his pocket and displayed it to the assembled farmers. "Take a look, everyone. This is a letter from the Southern Netherlands Parliament to your Mister Saint-Just.

"It states that the Southern Netherlanders will provide money and weapons, and Mister Saint-Just will be responsible for inciting farmers to launch riots in French cities. Their pretext is that the government will impose exorbitant land redemption fees.

"Oh, you can come up and see for yourselves; Mister Saint-Just's signature is right here..."