Novels online

Chapter 509: Violence for Violence

Spurred by the successive gunshots, the tall tax investigator abruptly opened his eyes. As he sat up, he saw his colleague holding a pistol, and then two attackers, one near and one far, lying in pools of blood, came into his view.

He immediately forgot the pain in his head and exclaimed in shock, "Chaumette, you... you killed them?!"

"Yes," Chaumette replied, his mind a little dazed from killing for the first time. He instinctively pulled out gunpowder and began reloading. "We have the right to open fire when attacked..."

The tall tax investigator was still visibly anxious. "But they... they just died like that?"

Chaumette suddenly stood up, vigorously ramming the powder down the musket barrel, and declared excitedly, "Have you forgotten what the Commissioner said during his speech?"

The tall tax investigator froze, his wavering, bewildered gaze instantly hardening.

"We are selfless and fearless tax investigators, and we should not be intimidated by any threat!" Chaumette raised his pistol, echoing Robespierre's speech. "As long as we stand on the side of justice and law, we must take up arms and fight back against any lawbreakers, making them tremble at the mere mention of our names!"

"Yes, you're right!" the tall tax investigator nodded, adding, "We need to show them what happens..."

After his audience with the Crown Prince that day, Robespierre immediately rushed to the major cities to address the members of the Tax Bureau, issuing strict orders. The core message was simple: 'Don't be afraid. If anyone dares to stir up trouble, teach them a harsh lesson!'

Citizens who had run over to see what the commotion was about, upon seeing the two men radiating killing intent and the bodies on the ground, all lowered their heads and quickly distanced themselves...

Orléans.

Over a dozen fierce-looking men gathered outside the Tax Bureau building. Some carried wooden buckets filled with excrement and urine, splashing them against the Tax Bureau walls, while others hurled flaming bundles towards the windows. These were stones wrapped in oil-soaked cloth, and after smashing through the glass, they could easily ignite the contents inside.

These men had been coming almost every day recently, growing bolder with each visit.

The thugs heard none of the usual warnings like, "Your actions are criminal," or "Please leave immediately." Convinced the Tax Bureau staff had been scared witless, they grew even more arrogant, shouting insults:

"We've warned you many times, you scum! Since you still dare to stay here, this old man will show you what's what!"

"Adam Bornat, Pierre, Kerves... I know where you bastards live! If you don't want to die, get out of Orléans!"

"You pigs still haven't resigned? Are you tired of living?"

Just then, ten tax investigators in black uniforms jogged out in formation from the side entrance of the building. Under the thugs' astonished gaze, they stopped about fifty meters away, then collectively unslung the flintlock muskets from their backs.

The thugs immediately put on a fierce front but inwardly trembled, saying, "What are you doing? We're just protesting..."

"Don't think you can scare us!"

However, their response came in the voice of Lemair, the Director-General of the Tax Bureau: "Ready—"

"Aim—"

Fear appeared on the faces of several thugs, and they prepared to turn and flee. But more of them gambled that the tax investigators were just trying to scare them, and instead hurled their flaming bundles towards them.

"Fire—"

With a sharp command from Lemair, ten Charleville muskets simultaneously spat flames. Immediately, three thugs were struck by spurting blood, collapsing to the ground.

Only then did the other thugs react, letting out terrified screams:

"They're going to kill us!"

"Run!"

Lemair, his face grim, raised his saber and pointed it forward, proclaiming loudly, "These felons who have repeatedly attacked the Tax Bureau must all be arrested! Anyone who flees or resists will be shot on sight!"

"Yes, sir!"

The line of tax investigators responded in unison. After charging forward a short distance, they all drew their pistols and commanded, "Everyone get down on the ground! No running!"

Then gunshots rang out, and another two thugs fell, shot. Two more were hit in the arm. Their wails immediately echoed through the alley.

The tax investigators, without hesitation, swapped to their reloaded firearms and fired again.

No one dared to run anymore. They scrambled to the ground, trembling uncontrollably and utterly petrified as they looked at the fresh corpses beside them.

Meanwhile.

In Bourges, the Tax Bureau, due to insufficient manpower, directly used bombs to deal with the thugs...

In Châlons, the assistant director-general of the Tax Bureau, Maniesai, chased the attackers into their hideout, killing three accomplices and arresting one...

The Picardy Tax Bureau actually requested cannons from the military, but before they could even use them, the thugs surrendered...

Following Robespierre's national tour and speeches, all attackers targeting the Tax Bureau were met with a decisive counterattack, and their previous arrogant demeanor was instantly quelled.

This wasn't because the tax investigators were inherently formidable, as they had only undergone a few months of military training.

It was primarily due to Robespierre's exceptionally brilliant oratorical skills, which, combined with his subordinate tax investigators—many of whom leaned towards the Jacobin faction—immediately ignited a fervent zeal for justice and law within them.

Coupled with weaponry and equipment superior to that of regular infantry, they naturally swept aside the thugs.

...

Paris.

Bolloré, a titan of the Tax Farmers' Guild, listened to his steward's report, cold sweat trickling down his back.

In the past ten days or so, of the men he had sent to threaten government tax officials, thirty-seven had been killed and over seventy arrested!

His family had originally been involved in smuggling, only transitioning to moneylending and tax farming after accumulating wealth. Thus, he commanded numerous desperadoes. This was the source of his confidence in promising to 'show those tax investigators what's what.'

Yet, he hadn't expected that his men, who didn't even fear customs police, would be slaughtered by a group of tax investigators and flee like stray dogs.

He was unaware that, historically, it was Robespierre and his Jacobins who would ultimately wipe out tax farmers and smuggling magnates like him.

Bolloré felt a pang of regret. These subordinates were the "elites" his family had cultivated over a long time—not only bold and fierce but also loyal and reliable.

This time, in an attempt to intimidate the tax investigators, he had lost over a hundred men, a truly devastating blow. His family's smuggling business would essentially face a shortage of experienced personnel in the future.

Moreover, as his steward had just reported, the Tax Bureau had not only remained unintimidated but had also seen its morale surge and prestige greatly increase due to the numerous arrests and killings of attackers. It was almost as if he had sent his men to help the government's tax department boost its cohesion.

The steward glanced at Bolloré's expression and cautiously said, "My lord, our people will require a total of 620,000 francs in compensation. What do you think..."

He was expected to cover the expenses for those subordinates who had been killed or imprisoned.

"Just follow the usual rules," Bolloré grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. He then asked, "Oh, and Anroer, Luzhad, and the others—are they all arranged?"