Audric then returned to the attic, flipped out a long-handled brush from under the bed, and moved aside the cloth wrapped around the brush handle to reveal the gun barrel inside. Next, he dismantled the bloated brush head, which concealed a wooden gunstock.
Soon, a British-made Brown Bess 1742 type flintlock gun was in his hands.
He found gunpowder and lead shot from the other end of the brush handle, deftly loaded them into the muzzle, and handed the firearm to the red-haired “henchman,” instructing him, “When the gold-carrying carriage comes by later, shoot in that direction.”
“Huh?” the red-haired man looked towards the distant road, puzzled, “Boss, that’s probably too far to hit anything…”
“Idiot, we’re just sounding the alarm. You’re to shoot to signal our guys, to let them know it’s time to act.”
Audric spoke as he crouched down to pull out another gun from under the bed—a French-made short musket with the stock sawn off, which the Painter had brought in hidden in a barrel. He also loaded it with ammunition and handed it to the bald man: “You fire as well.”
“Leave it to us, boss!” Both thieves, thinking about the seven or eight thousand livres they would receive just for firing off a couple of random shots, were overjoyed at their luck in joining the Leckie Gang.
Then, Audric picked up the Chaleville Flintlock Gun of the soldier who had just died, searched for gunpowder and bullets on the body, and after checking that the firearm was already loaded, fastidiously poured out the powder to reload it meticulously.
Through the window next to the attic, Audric saw the white carriage in his telescope. He recognized the coachman very well—they belonged to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and were often seen around him.
Audric immediately had his two men come to the window, while he stepped back a few steps and called out loudly, “Fire!”
The two thugs, still lost in the fantasy of the Leckie Gang being in full control, fired at the distant carriage without hesitation.
The quiet outskirts of Paris were suddenly shattered by two booming shots, startling the birds in the nearby woods into flurrying up into the sky.
Members of the French Royal Guard, from officers to soldiers, all looked as if they had been slapped across the face, immediately panicked and looked around to locate the source of the gunshots.
Besanval’s face turned as pale as death, veins popping on his forehead, as he turned around and bellowed at the orderly officer, “Sound the bugle, sound it right now! Tell the Crown Prince’s convoy to turn around!”
“What are you waiting for! Protect the Crown Prince and Princess, quick!”
“Balthasar, Croix, take your men and search!” he himself drew his pistol, scanning the area, “Who dares to be so bold?!”
The officers of the French Royal Guard had begun commanding their soldiers to fire wildly in the direction of the gunshots in an attempt to suppress the firepower of the secret attackers.
Inside the farmhouse, the bald man, hearing the persistent gunfire, thought their own men had begun their assault and eagerly turned to ask Audric, “Boss, do you think this will do?”
But Audric simply smiled faintly, pulled him to the middle of the attic, and stood in the direction of the window, his Chaleville Flintlock suddenly spitting flames.
An unmistakable bullet hole appeared on the unsuspecting bald man’s chest. The immense force of the bullet flipped him backward, and without even a struggle, he was dead.
Audric had intentionally reduced the amount of gunpowder earlier, so the shot body wasn’t blown apart, making it difficult to tell that it was a close-range gunshot.
The red-haired man by the window was stunned by the scene for a moment, but Audric did not hesitate to smash the butt of his gun into his stomach, and while he was doubled over, struck him hard on the back of the head.
Ignoring the crackling gunfire outside, Audric calmly reloaded the Chaleville, then dragged the now unconscious red-haired man to a column in the attic. Stepping back a few paces, he shot him in the throat.
After doing all this, Audric surveyed the room to ensure nothing was amiss, promptly grabbed the remains of the long-handled brush he had already packed away, replaced the Chaleville in the hands of the dead French Royal Guard soldier, and ran out the back door of the farmhouse.
Reaching a small grove several dozen steps away, he quickly changed into the previously worn uniform of the Crown Prince’s Guard, hastily buried the remains of the long-handled brush, and then squatted behind a tree, anxiously waiting.
At the same instant as the first gunshot rang out, Kesode forcefully reigned in the military horse and waved his hand, shouting loudly, “Nobody panic! Everyone gather by the Crown Prince and Princess’s carriage, be on guard against stealth attacks!”
The French Royal Guard, already disoriented, promptly followed the order, with more than a hundred soldiers encircling the carriage of Joseph and the two Sicilian princesses in the middle.
When the third gunshot from the direction of the farmhouse rang out, Kesode signaled to his officer with a glance and shouted, “Clement, over there! Take your men and catch the assassin!”
“Yes!” Clement pulled on the reins, waved his hand and said, “Third squad, follow me!”
Then, amidst the shocked and admiring gazes of the French royal guards, more than twenty of the Crown Prince´s Guard charged towards the distant farmhouse.
On Besanval’s side, it wasn’t until the fourth gunshot sounded in the distance that he finally confirmed the attacker’s exact location, and immediately pointed with his pistol towards the farmhouse: “There! Adrien, take your men over!”
“Yes!”
Clement, leading the third squad, seemed to have not found the right direction at first, running diagonally toward a small grove not far from the farmhouse. After circling a little, he “suddenly realized” and turned his head to charge towards the farmhouse.
As they passed by the edge of the woods, Audric hurried over in a few steps, took a flintlock gun passed to him from a teammate, and slung it over his shoulder, blending into the group.
In reality, by this time, the rural wasteland was shrouded in gun smoke from the continuous gunfire, and even if he ran back directly to Joseph, it was estimated that not even the French guards would have been able to see him.
Clement deliberately slowed his men down, waiting for the French guards to surround the farmhouse first, then, pretending to be in a frantic hurry, he followed them.
The French guard officer Adrien was hesitating between charging straight in or first suppressing with gunfire when he heard Clement shout, “Cowards! Do you want to wait for them to shoot at His Highness the Crown Prince again?!”
Adrien jolted, hastily drew his sword, and gestured towards the farmhouse, “Charge in! Capture the assassin!”
The French guards rushed up immediately and were first met with the sight of the soldiers guarding the farmhouse dead on the ground. Someone nervously fired a volley of shots towards the attic and then cautiously climbed the staircase.
On the other side, after hearing the gunshots, Joseph immediately locked the carriage door from the inside— a very reasonable reaction, as the first instinct upon being attacked is to prevent the assassin from rushing into the carriage.
Then, he and Eman quickly removed the wax seals from the carriage door, walls, and wooden table, placing all the wax pieces into their pockets.
Eman took out a packet of wood shavings from under the seat, scattering them inside the carriage, and finally wedged a flattened lead bullet into the damaged part of the wall on the other side of the carriage.
Now, the carriage seemed to have two holes, one each on the door and the wooden table. On the opposite wall of the carriage, a lead bullet was embedded, and wood shavings were scattered everywhere inside.
Clearly, a bullet had hit the carriage.
Afterward, Joseph stretched his arm towards Eman, giving him an affirmative look, “Come on.” Read the next part on m|vl-e-mpyr
Eman drew a short sword from his calf, and said with a heavy tone, “Your Highness, I am very sorry.”
As he spoke, the flash of the blade passed, and a wound appeared on the right upper arm of Joseph. He immediately felt a piercing pain.
Eman put away the sword, picked up a sharp-looking wooden shard from the carriage, and, taking a sheep bladder filled with chicken blood from his pocket, gently punctured it.
The chicken blood immediately stained the wood shard, making it look as if it had cut Joseph’s arm when it splintered and flew.
Eman then splattered some of the blood around the carriage, secured the bladder, and with a voice filled with urgency, cried out from inside, “Oh, Lord! The Crown Prince has been shot!”
“Doctor! Call for a doctor quickly!”
The heartrending cries drifted out for hundreds of meters, stunning everyone who heard them into standing still, particularly Besanval who felt a “buzz” in his head and nearly fell headfirst from his horse.
Inside the carriage that followed, Princess Maria was terrified to hear that the Crown Prince had been shot, her face turned pale, and tears “whooshed” out.
[Note 1] King’s Avenue: Refers to the specially widened roads funded by the French Government, equivalent to the highways of the 18th century.