Axel
patreon
The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 198
🕑 Added 2025-05-13 19:08:01 +0000 UTCChapter 198: The Davout Brothers Reunite During Maneuvers
In Joseph’s North African strategy, he had never intended for the French army to rely entirely on brute force.
Such an approach would not only exhaust the troops and drain funds but also provoke fierce resistance from local forces in North Africa.
Countless examples from later eras demonstrate that defeating the enemy’s main forces is often not the hardest part; instead, mopping up scattered local militias proves to be the most vexing challenge. For instance, the later global hegemon defeated Ata’s forces in just over ten days but spent two trillion dollars over the next decade dealing with guerrilla fighters—only to lose in the end.
Thus, the best approach was to mobilize local forces in North Africa for France’s purposes, using a small number of elite French troops as the critical weight to tip the balance.
For quite some time now, France’s diplomats and intelligence officers had been operating in Algiers with this goal in mind.
...
Joseph’s carriage was still half a mile from the Paris Police Academy’s training grounds when the sound of a melodic bugle call reached his ears.
A group of impeccably uniformed police cadets marched in two columns at a steady pace. Every two meters, the last man in line would halt, until two straight human walls extended from the training ground’s entrance to Joseph’s carriage.
At the commanding officer’s loud order, both columns turned simultaneously, lowering the rifles from their shoulders. The rifle butts almost touched the ground, producing a resounding “clap” in unison.
The carriage passed between the two lines. Joseph nodded approvingly at the cadets on either side. Even from this reception alone, it was clear these cadets were exceptionally well-trained. A line several hundred meters long remained perfectly straight, with synchronized movements—a level of discipline rarely seen in contemporary Europe.
On the training field, several neatly arranged formations awaited.
At the forefront stood nearly a thousand senior cadets, organized by battalion. Behind them were even more second-year cadets, though their formations were noticeably less polished. Joseph had already reviewed Froyent’s report earlier; the second-year intake had recruited as many as 3,000 cadets.
This was thanks to the academy’s policy of providing room and board, being open to civilians, and offering scholarships to high achievers. Many young men from distant rural areas traveled up to two weeks just to enroll, lured by the academy’s generous conditions.
Of course, the most crucial factor was that Joseph now had sufficient funds to support so many cadets. Their brand-new uniforms alone cost over 120 livres each. Not a single denier of this funding came from the French treasury for the Paris Police Academy.
Behind the second-year cadets stood over a thousand soldiers in older uniforms, with a higher average age. These were members of Berthier’s corps who had come to observe the ceremony.
Joseph stepped down from the carriage and was surrounded by Froyent, Berthier, and other military and police leaders as he made his way to the central viewing platform. Raising his hand, he saluted the cadets and soldiers on the field.
The thousands of individuals on the field immediately stood at attention, chests puffed out, and hats raised in salute. A thunderous cheer erupted:
“Long live His Majesty the King! Long live His Royal Highness the Crown Prince!”
Joseph smiled, raised his hat in return, and delivered a routine speech in his capacity as the academy’s principal. Such speeches, he noted, would become an annual tradition at this venue.
Afterward, all the cadets and soldiers marched past the viewing platform in formation, presenting themselves for inspection by the Crown Prince.
Behind Joseph, Count Mirabeau, the newly appointed Minister of Industry, watched the well-trained, spirited formations with astonishment.
For days, he had puzzled over why the Crown Prince had invited him to attend the police academy’s new student induction ceremony. Now, it all became clear. The Crown Prince was showcasing his power. These weren’t just police cadets; they were the Crown Prince’s army!
Mirabeau had initially admired the young Crown Prince for his industrial initiatives, which promised to bring prosperity and hope to French industry.
Now, he realized that the Crown Prince was a genius monarch—simultaneously advancing industrial development, preventing potential famines, consolidating the banks, and building a formidable military force.
Most impressively, His Royal Highness had achieved all of this quietly, with remarkable subtlety!
Mirabeau silently marveled: perhaps in the years to come, France would witness the rise of another monarch as great as the Sun King. No, the Crown Prince might shine even brighter than the Sun King!
A loud chant from the formations snapped Mirabeau out of his thoughts. Looking at the field, he noticed the soldiers were carrying peculiar rifles—unlike any model produced by Charleville. Being an avid hunter with extensive knowledge of firearms, he leaned over and whispered to the police superintendent beside him:
“Viscount Besançon, do you know what rifles they’re using? I’ve never seen anything like them.”
The superintendent promptly replied, “They’re the Auguste 1788 Fire Cap Rifles, the latest design produced at the Royal Armory under His Majesty’s initiative.”
The Royal Armory near Versailles and the armory in Saint-Étienne had begun standardized production, yielding promising results. At full capacity, the two factories could produce over 2,000 fire cap rifles per month.
This output was achieved even while Saint-Étienne focused much of its effort on artillery manufacturing, as per Joseph’s orders. Without this diversion, production could be even higher.
Under Lavoisier’s leadership, the Royal Powder Bureau had long since perfected mercury fulminate production, easily manufacturing 30,000 copper caps monthly.
With these production capacities, both the Paris Police Academy and Berthier’s corps had fully transitioned to fire cap rifles, which were also the standard in training.
When the ceremony concluded, Joseph announced that the academy’s senior cadets would immediately begin field training.
Caught off guard, the senior cadets showed their surprise, but the instructors’ commands quickly clarified the situation: the exercise had already begun.
“Quick! Move faster!”
“This is war—get running!”
“The last company to assemble will run five extra laps!”
The cadets maintained order, swiftly dispersing under their captains’ instructions and returning to their barracks. Meanwhile, cavalry and artillery units rushed toward the stables...
Mirabeau hadn’t expected to dine in the barracks with the Crown Prince. Seated among hundreds of cadets, he found the simple tableware disconcerting. However, seeing the Crown Prince and other high-ranking officials eating heartily, he had no choice but to follow suit.
To his surprise, despite their coarse appearance, the food was fairly decent—meat, vegetables, and bread were all provided, rivaling the officer meals he had once eaten in the cavalry.
After lunch, the cadets rose as one to bid the Crown Prince farewell. Mirabeau saw their unwavering reverence and trust in their eyes, finally grasping the profound significance of the meal.
Returning to the training field, Mirabeau was shocked to see most infantry units already prepared to depart. Not far away, artillery units were hauling cannons toward the field.
He checked his watch. Only half an hour had passed since the assembly orders. His mind could only conjure one word—elite!
...
Another half-hour passed, and over a thousand fully armed police cadets had formed orderly columns, ready to march out of the training grounds in a grand procession.
Of course, this rapid pace was achievable only because logistical preparations were excluded; gathering supply wagons and other provisions would take several days.
The senior cadets marched southward at a brisk pace, maintaining a high-speed march throughout their journey. By midday on the sixth day, they arrived in the town of Toussi.
After a day of rest, they finally faced their training opponents—the Third Infantry Regiment of the Moulin Corps, led by André Davout, who had just arrived from Moulin.
When the two armies met, André first held discussions with the police cadets’ commanding officers, agreeing on the details of the upcoming training exercises. Afterward, they all dined together.
Once the official matters were concluded, André eagerly headed to the police cadet camp. Guided by an academy instructor, he finally reunited with a young second lieutenant who was not yet twenty years old.
The young officer saluted André with a raised hat, to which André responded in kind. They then embraced warmly.
André pulled the young man back slightly, smiling as he looked him over. “Dear Nicolas, you’ve finally become a real officer!”
The youthful Nicolas, full of spirit, replied, “Perhaps it won’t be long before I, too, become a distinguished regimental commander like you, my dear brother.”
“Haha! That day will come, no doubt. But for now, you’ve just graduated, so focus on gaining experience and don’t get ahead of yourself.” André patted his younger brother on the shoulder. “In truth, I believe that one day, the Davout family’s greatest achievements will be yours.
“You’ve always been smarter than me, and serving under the Crown Prince, you’re bound to rise far more quickly than I ever could.”
The brothers had not seen each other for over two years and immediately fell into an easy, jovial conversation as they walked toward the edge of the camp.
“Wow, your uniforms are impressive! Look at the crisp, sharp lines!”
Nicolas nodded. “They say His Royal Highness personally commissioned a renowned Parisian designer for these. Oh, you haven’t seen our winter uniforms yet—they’re made entirely of wool and cost 70 livres each!”
André glanced at his own worn uniform, almost tearing up with envy, before quickly changing the subject. “So, when did you depart? How did you manage to arrive a day before us?”
“We left Paris last Wednesday. Brother, it was a grueling march—we maintained a rapid pace the entire way. You know, we’ve never trained for such forced marches at the academy.”
André’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you covered the distance in just six days? From Paris to Toussi is nearly 40 leagues!”
Forty leagues—equivalent to 160 kilometers—meant the cadets had marched over 26 kilometers daily. For the 18th century, such a pace was extraordinary.
Even André’s Moulin Corps, which had left last Wednesday as well, had covered less than 30 leagues and arrived a day later.
This highlighted the Paris Police Academy’s rigorous physical training. In fact, if not for the need to maintain marching formations, the cadets could have covered an even greater distance given their endurance.
Nicolas nodded. “The cadets here are incredibly fit. I heard they regularly train by running one league with full packs. A few days ago, I tried to keep up with them and could barely match the pace of their slowest group.”
Although Nicolas had worked hard during his time at the Paris Military Academy and was in excellent shape, he had never undergone systematic cross-country running training. He barely managed to keep up with the police cadets during their drills.
André frowned at this revelation. “If what you say is true, my regiment might face a tough challenge in this exercise.”
However, his frown soon turned into a smile. “Fortunately, I’ve brought Moulin’s finest regiment. Even if they lose in marching speed, they’ll surely make up for it in formation drills and marksmanship.”
“That might not be so certain,” Nicolas replied with a peculiar expression. “Do you know how the academy trains for marksmanship?”
“How?”
“When they used flintlock muskets, cadets fired ten rounds every three days. After switching to fire cap rifles, the superintendent increased this to five rounds daily to familiarize them with the new weapons.”
“Five rounds daily?!” André gasped. His regiment’s soldiers fired that many rounds only every two weeks.
He suddenly remembered something Nicolas had mentioned earlier. “You called it a ‘fire cap rifle.’ What exactly is that?”
Nicolas gestured toward a nearby cadet patrolling with a rifle slung over his shoulder. “Look, that’s the one. I have one too, but it’s over there. They say the design came from His Majesty or perhaps the Crown Prince himself. You don’t need to pour priming powder when firing—just place a copper cap over the nipple. Here, this is what it looks like.”
He pulled a fire cap from a leather pouch at his waist and handed it to André. “This rifle loads faster than a Charleville by three or four seconds, and its range is slightly longer.”
André’s face darkened as he pondered the possibility of his experienced soldiers losing to these cadets who had barely trained for a year. How would he explain such a defeat to his wife, the Duchess of Villars?
The next morning, a cannon’s roar signaled the start of the joint exercise between the Moulin Corps and the Paris Police Academy’s first-year cadets.
According to the rules, the side that reached the Mars Field in Paris first would seize the high ground and secure a defensive advantage. The later arrival would have to conduct an assault.
Just two hours after the cannon’s roar, André received a report from his scouts: the “enemy” had already begun marching.
He raised his telescope in disbelief and confirmed that the cadets were indeed on the move, their columns well-organized.
“How is this possible?” he asked his adjutant. “Were they preparing in advance?”
The adjutant quickly raised his own telescope. “That’s impossible, Colonel. I stationed observers on their side. They couldn’t have... wait, they don’t have supply wagons?”
“Hm?” André studied the scene more closely and found that, indeed, no supply wagons accompanied the cadets.
A smile spread across his face. “These inexperienced youngsters will soon have to halt and wait for their logistics train.”
Table of content - Next Chapter >>>
