Chapter 518: Napoleon Purges Corsica
Yet, all this hinged on the destruction of the National Guard.
A monumental wave of turmoil surged within Napoleon. 'Was I truly going to go through with this?'
Without the National Guard, the Restoration Organization would lose its very foundation...
His gaze swept over the enormous headline in the Ajaccio Life newspaper lying on the table: "Corsican Assembly Overwhelmingly Approves Bill to Disband National Guard." His brows immediately furrowed.
Yes, it wasn't him who was to purge the National Guard; it was those fools in the Assembly who had passed such a bill. At least half of the members who voted in favor were, ironically, part of the Restoration Organization.
In other words, the Restoration Organization had sabotaged its own foundation!
Napoleon couldn't help but draw a deep breath. Paoli had fallen, or perhaps he had never been truly noble to begin with. The Restoration Organization, on the other hand, was utterly rotten to its core; they had lost any chance of achieving Corsican independence.
'If I continue to dedicate myself to the Restoration Organization, I will never have a chance to rise to prominence!'
The thought flashed through his mind, and he suddenly froze.
He gripped the deck railing, examining his own heart with such brutal honesty for the first time.
'Did I truly just want to see the Corsican Republic established?'
He hesitated for a few seconds, then shook his head slightly. It seemed he had always merely sought to use Corsican independence as a stepping stone to a glorious position within a Corsican government.
Truth be told, he had moved to Brienne, east of Paris, as a child, living like a true Frenchman, enjoying a far better life than most Corsicans. Perhaps, allowing other Corsicans to live as he did was the true path to their freedom and a prosperous life.
Napoleon suddenly felt a weight lift from his heart. He turned and returned to the cabin.
'Acting commander of the Corsican Legion—that's not a bad starting point,' he thought, nodding to himself. 'Once I climb to a higher position, I'll be able to help my homeland develop more effectively.'
...
Outside Asco, a city in northern Corsica.
"Lieutenant Colonel, I truly cannot permit you to enter the city." A well-dressed middle-aged man, a silver cane tucked under his arm, looked apologetically at Cesari-Colonna Paoli. "You understand, the Assembly has already prohibited your troops..."
"You're a member of the Restoration Organization too!" Cesari gripped the arm of Asco's Municipal Commissioner, gesturing towards the temporary camp in the distance. "Our soldiers need provisions; we have less than a week's worth of food remaining!"
"It is precisely as a member of the Restoration Organization that I came to see you," the middle-aged man replied. "However, I, the city hall, and the chamber of commerce cannot defy the decree. I ask for your understanding."
The Corsican Assembly had been elected by the people themselves, so Corsicans harbored no doubts whatsoever about its decisions. This was a direct result of years of indoctrination by the Liberals, who had instilled in the populace the belief that "the Assembly represents me." 'How, then,' they thought, 'could I possibly oppose myself?'
Consequently, even the National Guard, which had long enjoyed considerable popular support, now struggled to enter towns. The enthusiastic welcome, complete with food and drink, that Corsican villagers once offered had vanished entirely.
In fact, ever since the Corsican Assembly's decree to disband the National Guard took effect, over a quarter of its members had already fled back home, and the number of deserters continued to climb.
After all, even the Restoration Organization's own high-ranking members in the Assembly had voted in favor. Compounded by the fact that the organization now lacked any clear leadership, the soldiers grew increasingly despondent.
"Then at least provide us with some wine and bread," Cesari said, his voice laced with resignation. "For heaven's sake."
"Well..."
The Municipal Commissioner was still hesitating, wondering whether to dip into his own pocket to buy some provisions for the National Guard, when a cavalryman suddenly galloped up, addressing Cesari: "Commander, French forces have been sighted five kilometers to the north! Roughly two thousand men."
Cesari's face instantly paled. He hastily demanded, "Have we made contact with them?"
The French garrison in Corsica hadn't clashed with the National Guard in a long time—primarily because they simply couldn't defeat them. So, it wasn't impossible that this was just a routine movement of French troops.
The cavalryman replied grimly, "They refused contact, sir."
The second regimental commander and other officers immediately converged, one anxiously stating, "Commander, it seems these fellows are indeed coming for us."
"We currently have only 1,300 soldiers. A direct confrontation would likely result in heavy losses..."
"Commander, we should retreat into Mount Rolo."
Corsica's terrain was essentially one vast mountain range, covering over eighty percent of the island's area. Only along the edges, near the Mediterranean Sea, were there scattered plains suitable for habitation.
Previously, whenever the National Guard faced French encirclement, they would unhesitatingly vanish into the mountains. Relying on their intimate knowledge of the terrain and the many villages within the mountains that provided supplies, they would effectively play a game of cat and mouse with the French.
After a prolonged stalemate, the French army, unable to bear the colossal military expenditures, would eventually withdraw, allowing the National Guard to re-emerge.
At present, they were situated north of the Rolo Mountain Pass, and could reach the mountains within less than a day's march to the south. Yet, Cesari hesitated.
They had recently passed through several villages and towns, and without exception, had met with resistance. Count Buttafuoco, immediately after the Assembly's decree passed, had dispatched agents across the island to ensure the National Guard was regarded as universally despised.
Cesari glanced at Asco, not far away. If the National Guard entered the mountains, and those villages refused to provide food, his force of over a thousand men would very likely starve. Moreover, he had even more crucial tasks ahead...
He dismissed Asco's Municipal Commissioner and immediately convened a war council, addressing his officers: "We have clashed with the French army many times before; they are not formidable."
"We must repel them here, then press on south towards Ajaccio to force those foolish Assembly members to revoke the decree. That is the only way for the legion to survive!"
The officers exchanged uneasy glances, then could only nod in acknowledgment.
They had indeed achieved more victories than defeats against the French forces stationed in Corsica. What they hadn't anticipated, however, was that their opponent's commander this time was the fearsome "Corsican Monster."
Even with their current meager numbers, let alone if their forces were doubled, a head-on clash would be no different from a flock of sheep challenging a lion.
...
Napoleon observed the National Guard camp through his telescope, a faint smile playing on his lips.
The Intelligence Bureau's intelligence had proven highly accurate; the National Guard was indeed near Asco. It was precisely this information that had led him to land at the closest port of Calvi, then conduct a forced march for two and a half days, successfully catching up with them.
A staff officer approached swiftly, saluting. "Commander," he reported, "our scouts have detected the enemy establishing defensive lines, apparently preparing for battle."
A flicker of thought crossed Napoleon's mind. It seemed his pacification mission would soon be complete.
He gestured for an aide to bring the map, then pointed to a high ground on the western flank and ordered, "Have the artillery immediately move to this position..."
He was still speaking when he suddenly raised a hand, cutting off the rest of his sentence. "Wait," he mused, "perhaps this is an opportunity."
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