Chapter 11: Chapter 11: The Crown Prince’s Guard
“This situation isn’t right,” Joseph frowned and pondered, “Have the gangs in the Saint Antoine District gone mad these past few days?”
He immediately instructed Alden, “From now on, all personnel are to extend their policing hours, let everyone work harder, and double their performance bonuses. Night patrols must be especially strengthened, as more incidents are likely to occur.”
“Yes!”
Alden saluted with his hand on his chest, ready to turn and leave, when the officer in charge of police personnel ran in, sweating profusely:
“Your Highness, there has suddenly been a large, large number of police officers taking leave… it’s estimated to be nearly a hundred.”
“Nearly a hundred?!” Alden was stunned. The main police force of the Saint Antoine District, plus various support staff, amounted to just over 400 people—this meant a quarter of them were asking for leave.
“Yes, some say they are sick, others have family emergencies.”
Joseph took the leave request list and glanced over it; they were all former police force members, with the logistics team making up the bulk, and there were also about a dozen detectives.
And what’s more, leading the request for leave was none other than the deputy chief of the police station, Bono!
Joseph’s eyes narrowed slightly. On one hand, serious crimes were occurring frequently, and he had just called for full mobilization to maintain order, and on the other, there was a mass leave? Could this be mere coincidence? There must be a problem here!
“Your Highness, we need manpower now, they…” Alden said anxiously.
Joseph turned, handed the leave list to his attendant, and said coldly, “Eman, you personally take a doctor to verify each one. Anyone whose leave does not align with the given reasons is to be immediately dismissed.”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
Joseph gave a cold laugh, “Trying to dig a hole for me? This will indeed save a considerable amount of expenses. Do they think I’m out of options with just a mere hundred or so people?”
He first ordered Alden, Magone, and other public safety supervisors to lead teams to maintain order, and then gestured to the Captain of the Crown Prince’s Guard who was standing steadfast five paces away:
“Viscount Kesode, how many of my guards are here?”
“105, Your Highness,” replied the latter without hesitation.
Ostensibly, Joseph was only accompanied by two or three guards, but in fact, within a 300-meter radius, there was always a large number of Crown Prince’s Guards on alert.
“Detach 90 men to join Magone and the others in patrolling the streets to maintain order.”
“Your Highness,” Kesode stood up straight, “This is against protocol… ”
“Protocol is made by man; don’t be so rigid,” Joseph smiled, “Besides, you are my guards, listening to me is not wrong.”
Kesode’s face was a mask of military firmness and uncompromising spirit, “Your Highness, our duty is to protect your safety! I believe that King Louis XVI would definitely not agree with your proposal either.”
“King Louis XVI?” Joseph suddenly smiled craftily and turned to pull out a letter from Louis XVI from a few days ago from a drawer, handing the last page to the stubborn captain, “I actually do have the King’s endorsement.”
“Ah?” Kesode was taken aback.
Joseph pointed to the letter and read, “‘You just do what you need to do…. If there’s a problem, I’ve got your back.’ This is handwritten by His Majesty; you must follow his orders.”
Kesode was stunned, “But…”
Joseph then threatened, “If you do not listen to me, then I will lead the patrol myself. You’ve heard about the situation outside just now.”
“You absolutely mustn’t go on patrol!” Viscount Kesode hurriedly intervened, and after a standoff, he finally said with a pained expression, “Your Highness, we mustn’t let Major Faison know about this. Also, you mustn’t leave the police station.”
Major Faison was the Captain of the Court Guard at the Palace of Versailles and Viscount Kesode’s direct superior.
“Deal!” Joseph nodded, “Don’t worry, I’ve still got 15 men here, so safety isn’t an issue.”
Viscount Kesode bowed once more and left Joseph’s office, hastening outside to the open space in front of the police station. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a whistle, and blew it forcefully twice.
Within moments, over a hundred members of the Crown Prince’s Guard, swords at their sides and guns on their backs, gathered from all around like a rushing tide and formed up swiftly into five rows.
Viscount Kesode signaled a few officers to step forward and quietly gave them several instructions.
“Yes, sir!” the officers shouted in response, then each led their men out of the police station at a run, including a group of ten cavalrymen.
…
In a dilapidated house in the Huaike District, filled with the acidic smells of foot odor and vomit, several leaders of the Black Sheep Gang were holding their drinks and laughing loudly, “After all, the girls from White Laurel are the toughest, the Saint Antoine District doesn’t have stuff this good.”
The big boss took a large gulp of liquor and disdainfully glanced at the man, “Look at your inexperienced face. If we’re talking about harlots, the ones from the Louvre District are top-notch! Thirty livres for one night, those breasts, tsk tsk…”
A man missing half of his ear said roughly, “These past few days we’ve made 2,000 livres. Isn’t that enough to play with the high-class girls from the Louvre District whenever we want?”
Someone immediately teased him, “Vallian, you lost all your money for the high-class girls at the gambling den, 150 livres, right? You must have pissed on your hands, haha.”
“Half Ear” grabbed a copy of the Paris News beside him, belched, and retorted, “See? The paper even covered the shoe store arson I did. Similion, that crooked cop, will bring me 1,000 livres tomorrow! Afraid I won’t have enough money for the brothel?”
“Look at your ambitions,” the big boss pointed with the liquor bottle at the men in front of him, “Only thinking about harlots? Put more effort into it! Win that 20,000 livres, and I’ll take you to play with real aristocratic women, haha!”
The gang leaders’ eyes shone with lewdness as they howled in unison, “We’ll follow the boss’s orders!”
“Host Gang are nothing, the 20,000 livres will definitely be ours!”
“I’ll lead the men to do it tomorrow!”
Ever since Similion promised them 1,000 livres for every major crime three days ago, the Black Sheep Gang had been under strict orders combined with hefty rewards to create chaos at any cost. Even though the police had nabbed quite a few of their underlings these past few days, they’d also raked in a hefty sum.
The gang leaders envisioned being rich until the later part of the night, when they finally fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, as soon as the sun rose, they were jolted awake by a series of heavy pounding on the door, “Boss, boss! Something’s bad, one of the brothers is dead!”
The big boss climbed out of bed, massaging his throbbing forehead from the hangover, and said displeased:
“What’s all this noise about, isn’t it just someone dead? Who did it? Host Gang or the police?”
“It’s, it’s neither.” The voice outside trembled a little, “It’s the Royal Guard, and three men are dead…”
“The Royal Guard?” The big boss frowned and kicked his disheveled underlings, “Get up, now! Let’s find out what’s going on!”
Shortly, two of the gang leaders grumbled as they left, trailing a few men behind the person who brought the news.
They hadn’t gone far when they saw a troop of soldiers dressed in fine uniforms, wearing tricorne hats adorned with feathers, displaying the Royal Family’s crests, armed excellently, and striding towards them with imposing carriage, coming from the opposite side of the street.
“What are these people doing in the Saint Antoine District?” “Half Ear” asked nervously.
“They seem to be maintaining order,” the messenger replied with a sullen face. “They are numerous, and almost every street is filled with them.”
