“`
The next morning, as Joseph was having his luggage packed to return to Paris, Governor Montsorro and Venio suddenly arrived in his room.
Joseph was somewhat surprised, still having two more hours before his scheduled departure time; why had these two come to see him off so early?
After the greetings, Montsorro seemed quite embarrassed as he said, “Your Highness, please forgive the intrusion, but after discussing with Mr. Venio, we felt it would be better to inform you about a matter.”
“What is it? Please, speak,” Joseph said.
“Well, Viscount of Joubert, Viscount of Vienna and Baron of Chappelier wish to have an opportunity to show their loyalty to His Majesty the King. I mean, they want to plant some potatoes.”
Seeing that the Crown Prince had no recollection of these names, Venio hurriedly reminded him, “Your Highness, they did not attend the meeting the next day.”
Montsorro continued, “Your Highness, they have expressed a willingness to plant potatoes on half of the cultivation garden’s area.”
Joseph frowned slightly. Venio quickly persuaded, “Your Highness, they know they were wrong and are pleading for your forgiveness…”
Joseph was aware that these three had also spent a significant amount of money, especially to have the Governor intercede on their behalf.
It was a classic case of “Refuse the wine and be forced to drink the dregs.” In that case, let them bleed a little more; planting more potatoes would be beneficial nonetheless.
So, he said with an impassive face, “Tell them to plant potatoes on two-thirds of the cultivation garden’s area, and the membership fee will be doubled. That will suffice.”
Montsorro’s face relaxed, and he promptly bowed, “Yes, Your Highness, they will surely be grateful for your kindness and generosity.”
As for the nobles who had yet to receive the message or were still hesitating, they had lost their last chance to join the Brewing Technology Association. A bleak future awaited them.
…
A few days later, the Crown Prince’s carriage entered Paris.
Looking out the carriage window, Joseph saw that quite a few public toilets had been constructed along the streets, with citizens going in and out. From time to time, there were also carts collecting manure, filled with fertilizer, being pulled by horses towards the outskirts of the city.
The streets were plastered with signs reading “Do Not Urinate or Defecate Anywhere At Will,” and police officers were watching passersby with an eagle eye. Anyone who appeared to be about to relieve themselves on the spot would immediately be met with a whistle and a stern reprimand.
The results were quite apparent, with street feces reduced by seventy to eighty percent. However, there were still “fish that slipped through the net” who relieved themselves on the streets, leaving behind traces. It was not surprising, as cultivating a habit of public hygiene in citizens was not something that could be achieved overnight.
At this moment, Paris was becoming one of the cleaner and more orderly cities among the major cities of Europe.
Joseph took a deep breath, feeling that the air in the city was much fresher, no longer bearing that constant sensation of walking through a toilet.
As the carriage passed the Seine River, whether it was psychological or not, Joseph even felt that the river water had become somewhat clearer.
In fact, with the reduction of feces on the streets, the pollutants washed into the Seine during the rain had indeed decreased significantly. Even the Parisians drawing water from the river could vaguely sense that the taste of the water was becoming “milder.”
This also prompted them to pay more attention to the issue of relieving themselves in public, with many citizens beginning to report those who did so on the streets to the police.
When the carriage passed a rather deserted public toilet, Joseph instructed the driver to stop, and then he got out of the carriage and curiously entered the facility.
Inside was a large pit latrine, divided by wooden boards into four squatting areas, with handrails thoughtfully installed on the boards. Opposite the squatting areas was a long row of urinals; overall, it was quite well-appointed.
After relieving himself, Joseph left the public toilet contentedly, but after a few steps, he suddenly felt that something was not quite right.
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He turned around to look – it seemed like everything that should be there was present…
Suddenly, he realized something and his face darkened—were there only doors to the men’s toilets?!
Recalling the public toilets along the way and after questioning Eman, he finally confirmed that indeed, they all only included facilities for men.
After Eman grasped why the Crown Prince was dissatisfied, he tried to explain, “Your Highness, perhaps they assumed that ladies rarely relieve themselves on the streets.”
Joseph sighed. It was truly bothersome; without his specific instructions, things just wouldn’t be right…
The carriage resumed its journey, and as it neared the city center, more and more posters promoting fashion week appeared on both sides of the street, along with road signs with arrows and inscriptions in multiple languages at the intersections.
“`
According to Joseph’s arrangement, more than a month earlier, advertisements for Fashion Week had already been placed throughout Europe, with advertising costs alone totaling over one hundred thousand livres.
However, the effect was significant, with nobles from all countries now discussing Paris Fashion Week, even to the extent that over seventy percent of the high-end hotels at Tuileries Palace had been booked.
One could imagine that once Fashion Week officially opened, a massive influx of foreign tourists would pour into Paris, freely spending gold coins, creating a historically memorable gala.
…
In the south of Paris, near the suburbs, a villa was hosting a gathering.
Most of the attendees were military officers. Their circle wasn’t too fond of salons, so gatherings like this became their most common way to socialize.
In an inconspicuous corner of the gathering, a major with teeth black as pitch swirled his glass and said, “Auror, tell us about the activity patterns of those despicable police officers.”
The tall and lean lieutenant beside him immediately nodded respectfully and said in a hushed tone, “I’ve had my men watch that police training ground for over ten days. They conduct artillery training every three days…”
The surrounding officers immediately showed looks of disdain:
“A bunch of stinking police officers have gotten their hands on cannons!”
“Hmph, they’re lucky if they manage not to shoot the cannonballs into their own camp.”
“Exactly, cannons are not something those sorts of people can handle!”
Auror continued reporting on the police academy, “On the day they train with the artillery, they’ll have a session in the morning and another in the afternoon, with an interval…”
After he finished, the major with the black teeth asked, “Have you investigated all the villages around it thoroughly?”
Auror nodded, pulled out a map, and pointed to a rectangular shape in the center, “This is that damned training ground, and these circles represent farmhouses.”
The major looked at it for a moment, then pointed to a circle on the north side, “How far is this from the police training ground?”
“Half a league.”
“A bit far, what about this one?”
“Slightly over a third of a league.”
“Good, it’s this one. Additionally, there’s a dense forest nearby.” The major with black teeth revealed a cold smile, “Cecilian, you and your men will be responsible for vigilance.”
He pointed to the north side of the training ground on the map, “Right here. Auror, you’ll be in charge of transporting the cannon and also removing it after we’ve secured it. If anything unexpected happens, hide in this dense forest first.
“According to your intelligence, the police’s last training session is after 4 p.m. If you delay just a bit, night will fall, and then you can calmly return to the barracks.”
“Yes, sir!”
The major then looked at the blond, short-statured man sitting opposite, “Komu, you and your men will take care of the shooting. You’ll only have one chance to fire, and you must hit that farmhouse, then quickly withdraw into Paris City.”
“Alright, you can count on me.”
“Auror, when’s their next training?”
“The day after tomorrow, sir.”
“Good. Tomorrow you’ll go again to familiarize yourselves with the terrain, and you’ll take action the day after tomorrow,” the major with black teeth raised his glass and said fiercely, “Cheers! Those lowly police officers dared to insult our General and the French Guard, we must give them a memory they won’t forget!”
These men were officers of the French Guard.
Last time, the commander of the French Guard, Besanval, had been shamed after being forced to retreat from outside the police school training ground at gunpoint, regarding it as an immense disgrace and blaming it all on the head of police school administration and the Director of Paris Police.
Of course, as a high-ranking officer, Besanval knew that dealing with those two would require political tactics, but his subordinates only wanted to have their revenge immediately.