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The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 127
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 19:07:01 +0000 UTCChapter 127: You Can Absolutely Trust My Loyalty
Queen Marie paused upon hearing the words, her heart subtly tightening. Seeing her son's attitude so positive, could it be that he had feelings for the Princess of the Two Sicilies?
Oh, that’s right. She had heard that Maria was an extremely intelligent girl, skilled in astronomy and mathematics. Perhaps it was these qualities that had attracted Joseph.
She forced a smile and nodded, "Of course, dear, this is very good. It will allow the Princess of the Two Sicilies to feel our warmth and courtesy."
Then, she quickly added, "By the way, Clementine will be arriving in Paris soon. Will you also go to...?"
Joseph immediately smiled and bowed, "Of course, Mother. How could I not go to welcome my cousin from afar?"
He certainly didn't mind greeting the princesses several times. This also served to mask his true intention of setting a trap for Bessonval under the guise of welcoming Maria.
The queen let out a sigh of relief. Wonderful, it seemed her son was simply focused on manners, not interested in the Princess of the Two Sicilies. Clementine, you must do your best to win the heart of the Crown Prince!
After exchanging pleasantries with the queen, Joseph immediately went to find the Grand Chamberlain to discuss in detail the ceremonial procedures for welcoming the Princess of the Two Sicilies and the arrangements along the route.
"Hmm, I think the roads on either side should be lined with ribbons," Joseph pointed at the map and said. "Otherwise, the bare trees in winter look too monotonous. Also, these cottages—the princess will be able to see them from her carriage, so they must be decorated properly."
"Yes, Your Highness, I will follow your instructions carefully," the Grand Chamberlain hastily noted down these demands.
He knew that the princess wasn’t simply visiting for "tourism," but most likely to become the Crown Prince’s fiancée. Thus, it was no surprise that His Highness took such an interest in ensuring the grandeur of the occasion.
After finishing his discussion with the Grand Chamberlain, Joseph did not return to Paris immediately. Instead, he went to the Crown Prince’s palace, which he hadn’t lived in for quite some time.
He walked slowly in front of a row of large arched floor-to-ceiling windows, his gaze sweeping across the rainbow-colored halos reflected in the glass. Suddenly, he turned his head and asked the nearby Viscount Kessold: "Viscount Kessold, how long have you been serving as my captain of the guard? Seven or eight years now?"
Kessold was slightly surprised and immediately took a few steps closer. "Yes, eight years, Your Highness. I was honored to become your guard when you were four years old. Two years later, Her Majesty the Queen promoted me to captain."
Joseph turned to face him. "So, Kessold, you are the one I trust most in this world, aside from His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen."
Kessold quickly raised his hat and bowed, "May God be my witness, Your Highness, you can absolutely trust my loyalty."
Joseph nodded and then looked at him solemnly. "Jacques, my friend, I am about to face a challenge that will have a huge impact on me. I will need your help."
Kessold immediately stood upright, his tone firm. "Your Highness, I will do anything for you, including offering my life!"
...
In the eastern suburbs of Paris.
Along the road leading to a nearby small town, there was a small mound about ten meters high, with sparse low shrubs growing on it.
At this moment, several men dressed in greasy coarse woolen coats, wearing similarly dirty felt hats, and with various weapons tucked into their waist or behind their backs, were sitting carelessly on the ground, chatting aimlessly.
"We’ve only got about an hour before it gets dark," grumbled a balding middle-aged man, who was fiddling with an axe, looking up at the sky. "Looks like we’ll have to wait again."
"Even if he doesn't come today, he'll definitely come tomorrow," said a man with red hair, rubbing his neck and glancing down the mound. "That’s over ten thousand livres, waiting a few more days is definitely worth it!"
The man sitting at the farthest side, with a sinister look in his eyes, suddenly spoke up: "Colette, if we don’t see that man within three days, I’ll use the rifle butt to smash your backside."
The redhead shivered and quickly forced a smile. "Boss, the town is buzzing with the news that Baron Gedeon has sold his house and all his land, planning to go to Paris and marry that widow."
"Oh, I saw his servants loading boxes upon boxes of luggage onto carriages outside his manor."
A hulking man with a prosthetic left hand, resembling Captain Hook, immediately nodded. "That guy also put up a notice in the town recruiting bodyguards. Clearly, he’ll be leaving soon."
Before he finished speaking, an urgent, low call came from the top of the mound: "Quick! He’s coming!"
The previously lazy group immediately jumped up from the ground. The sinister man gestured to his subordinates: "As we discussed before, move!"
"Yes, Boss."
The men dispersed to surround the road below the mound, while the nearly two-hundred-pound man stationed at the top of the mound pulled a rope with all his strength.
Dozens of large logs, already prepared, immediately "thudded" down, blocking the ten-meter-wide road.
The carriage, which had been progressing leisurely, came to an abrupt stop. The two coachmen were so startled that they leapt off their seats and fled towards the distant woods.
The sinister man fired another shot at the carriage, then, leading his subordinates, surrounded the two carriages and shouted smugly: "Baron Gedeon, we’re just a bunch of poor men, hoping you could generously leave us some coins. Otherwise, we’ll have to give you a few stabs and take the money ourselves."
He was about to open the carriage door when he suddenly heard a gunshot from behind.
He felt as though a giant hammer had struck his back, and he was thrown violently towards the carriage, seeing the interior turn red—that was his blood.
The other bandits were startled and hurriedly turned around, only to see two pistols pointing at the backs of Captain Hook and the balding man. At the same time, several armed men sprang out from the roadside weeds.
The lookout on the mound started begging for mercy. The bandits turned their heads and saw a man of average height, looking like a simple farmer, waving a pistol as he took the lookout down.
Before long, apart from the dead leader, the other four bandits had been disarmed and were trembling as they squatted on the roadside with guns pointed at their heads.
A carriage drove up from the distance and stopped beside them. Fouché got out of the car. To capture the bandits alive, he had personally led his men to the town and fabricated the story about Baron Gedeon. Finally, the "fish" had bitten the hook.
Fouché fiddled with his pistol and coldly surveyed the bandits with his dead-fish eyes, snorting through his nose. "Hmm, the Blood Knife Gang, huh?"
The lookout, now on the mound, started crying in fear. "Let, let me go, I can tell you where the boss hides the money..."
The bald man glared at him and scoffed. "Yes! We are the Blood Knife Gang. If the army catches us, that’s our bad luck."
At that moment, in France, everyone accepted that only the military could deal with the ferocious Blood Knife Gang, as the police were completely useless.
Holding his gun, Prosper shook his head with a cold smile. "Who said we’re the army?"
"We are the Lecqwei Gang," Fouché added, "We’ve got a big deal coming up, so we need some manpower."
The bandits of the Blood Knife Gang all breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed they wouldn’t be sent to the gallows after all. They eagerly looked at Fouché. "I’m willing to join."
"Me too."
"Me as well..."
But Fouché snorted coldly. "However, I only need two of you. Let’s see which one of you is more capable."
With that, he threw two daggers onto the ground, his eyes filled with excitement and madness.
The bald man and the redhead reacted fastest. They immediately pounced, grabbing the daggers from the ground and stabbing the other two bandits without hesitation.
...
In the southern suburbs of Paris, the trees lining the avenue leading into the city were adorned with colorful ribbons, as if beautiful coral had grown there.
In the distance, sparse farmhouses were painted in lovely shades of white and gold, like treasure chests nestled among the coral.
On both sides of the wide avenue, which was over forty meters wide, stood French Guardsmen holding rifles every five or six meters. The guard line stretched from the outskirts to the heart of Paris.
Since two days ago, the area had been under martial law, and Bessonval had tirelessly inspected the four-mile stretch of road with officers, going over it again and again. The Princess of the Two Sicilies was due to arrive tomorrow, and according to the arrangements at the Palace of Versailles, the Crown Prince would also be coming to greet her. Therefore, nothing could go wrong.
At that moment, a team of craftsmen carrying paint and brushes, guided by the French Guards, walked toward a farmhouse on the eastern side.
Bessonval casually asked the officer next to him, "Who are those people?"
The officer quickly replied, "General, they are craftsmen from Versailles. Their documents have been thoroughly checked, there's no problem. They always complain that this or that isn't perfect and decorate everywhere. In my opinion, they're just trying to steal a bit more funding."
Bessonval nodded and, with a stern expression, said, "We mustn't be careless. Keep an eye on everyone."
"Yes, General."
As they spoke, several officers approached, leading twenty or so soldiers in uniforms that looked even more impressive and crisp than those of the French Guards.
"Imperial Guard?" Bessonval frowned. As the group got closer, he recognized the visitors and quickly replaced his frown with a smile, raising his hat to greet them, "Viscount Kessold, what brings you here?"
Kessold, mounted on his horse, also raised his hat in return, "It’s a pleasure to see you, General Bessonval. As you know, I cannot afford any mistakes tomorrow, so I must familiarize myself with the surroundings in advance."
"Indeed," Bessonval laughed, "I’ve already made a few rounds here today myself."
Kessold glanced at the barren land on both sides of the road. "Ah, I’ll go have a look over there. Please continue with your work. After the Princess arrives, I’ll buy you a drink."
"Ha, I look forward to your invitation."
The two men passed each other. Kessold, seeming very focused, carefully inspected the surroundings with his men, walking back and forth along the road.
The officer beside Bessonval glanced at Kessold's retreating figure, sneering, "Hmph, all for show. There are our men everywhere here; what’s there to inspect?"
Bessonval waved dismissively, "The Crown Prince is coming here, and it’s normal for his guards to do a routine check."
Meanwhile, Kessold’s team passed a patch of shrubs, where seven or eight court painters were walking toward them.
Kessold saw the leader of the painters and immediately reined in his horse, signaling behind him. A tall-nosed, robust soldier nodded at him, and with two others, they slipped into the bushes.
Kessold’s team stopped on the spot, keeping the three men out of sight.
The tall-nosed soldier and his two subordinates swiftly stripped off their military uniforms, revealing the painters’ clothing underneath, with a few smears of paint. They stuffed their uniforms into an empty paint bucket and handed their weapons to the soldiers behind Kessold, then grabbed the paint buckets and casually followed the painters, heading in the opposite direction.
Kessold's team continued as if nothing had happened, circling around the area a few times before returning the way they came.
None of the French Guards noticed that three members of the Crown Prince’s personal guard were missing.
The painters, cheerful as could be, walked toward a nearby farmhouse.
Among them, a red-haired man nervously looked around, whispering to the tall-nosed "painter" beside him, "Boss, why are there so many soldiers? What are we actually doing? Is it dangerous?"
The tall-nosed man smiled casually. "You’re new, so you don’t know the strength of our Lécuyer gang. I’ll tell you, half of these soldiers are our people."
He waved to a soldier in the distance, who lazily waved back with a smile. Since these craftsmen were from Versailles, no one knew which important person they were working for, so the lower-ranked soldiers, following the principle of not offending anyone if possible, treated them courteously.
"Turns out they really are our people," the middle-aged "painter" beside him exclaimed.
If he removed his felt hat, it would be obvious that he was bald.
Yes, the red-haired man and the other middle-aged man were survivors of the Blood Knife Gang. The tall-nosed man leading them was Kessold’s trusted subordinate, named Odelik.
Because the matter was so crucial, Joseph had even kept Fouché out of it. After capturing the members of the Blood Knife Gang, he handed them over to Kessold, and all subsequent arrangements were under his control.
The red-haired man was still uneasy. "Boss, what exactly are we doing this time?"
Odelik, following the "script," replied, "We’re robbing. Tomorrow, a noble will pass through here with several carts of gold; that’s money from the Paris Discount Bank. He has some connections with the military and hired these soldiers as bodyguards."
"However, what he doesn’t know is that our boss has a powerful backer who has already placed our people in the army."
"You saw it yourself earlier—no one questioned us."
He continued to encourage the two thieves, "And our task is just to act as lookout from a distance. Once the gold is seized, we’ll hide in the woods behind us. There’s no risk, and we’ll each get at least seven or eight thousand livres."
As they spoke, the painters arrived at the farmhouse. The owner had long since been "invited" away by the French Guards, leaving only one soldier to guard the place.
The painters greeted the guard and scattered to begin their work.
Meanwhile, Odelik, along with his two "underlings," quietly made their way into the attic, hiding inside a wooden cabinet.
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