“`
“Jo…” As her trembling lips began to speak, tears immediately streamed down her face.
Behind her, Louis XVI stared at his son, with his eyes also reddened.
Doctor Grusais was the first to get out of the carriage, bowed to the Queen and the King, and then comforted them, “Your Majesties, please do not worry. His Highness is only injured and is not in life-threatening danger. He appears to be frightened now and needs to rest as soon as possible.”
“Rest? Oh, yes, of course,” the Queen nodded subconsciously and instructed Countess Debreninac, “Quickly, take the Crown Prince back to rest.”
Joseph was “weakly” helped out of the carriage and then laid back onto the stretcher to be taken to his own bedroom.
The King, the Queen, and a group of nobles immediately followed.
Joseph lay in bed, feigning extreme weakness, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping. The Queen sat by the bed, her head lowered as she stroked her son’s arm where it was wrapped with thick bandages—the military doctors had applied nearly a dozen layers at Joseph’s repeated request.
She wiped away her tears, regulated her breathing, turned her head to look at the crowd around her, and her voice was filled with chill, “Who can explain to me why things have turned out this way?”
Kesode immediately looked towards General Besanval, who stood at the bedroom door with a pale face. Led by him, the others also turned their gazes to the commander of the French Guards.
Under the scrutiny of everyone, Besanval moved to the middle of the room with difficulty, saluted the King and Queen, and stammered, “Your Majesty, it’s… someone fired shots en route…”
Queen Mary glanced at him, “How did the attacker get close?”
“This, I’m not clear about…”
“Not clear?!” The Queen frowned deeply, “How many of the French Guards were in charge of surveillance?”
“Three thousand, Your Majesty.”
Queen Mary stood up abruptly, glaring at Besanval with eyes full of fury, and shouted, “Three thousand men! What the hell were you all doing that no one noticed the attack?!”
“Yes, it was…” Besanval’s head hung so low it was almost between his knees as he muttered, “My negligence…”
Louis XVI stood up, gently patting his wife’s shoulder.
Queen Mary glared fiercely at Besanval once more, then, disregarding him, turned again to the doctor to confirm her son’s condition repeatedly before turning to the officials gathered for a visit, “Count Robel, Baron Weymorel, I want you two to start an investigation immediately. I need to know what exactly happened today!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
The head of the Secret Police and the second-in-command of the Queen’s Imperial Guard both bowed and accepted the order.
In the time that followed, Louis XVI and Queen Mary stayed beside the Crown Prince’s bed, not even taking lunch.
It was only at twilight that Joseph finally “slowly came to.”
The Queen immediately grasped her son’s left hand and whispered gently, “My dear heart, you’re finally awake! How do you feel?”
“God be praised!” Louis XVI also watched his son with intense concern.
In a timely manner, Joseph showed the panic and helplessness fitting for a boy of fourteen, looking pitifully at his parents and frowning, “I feel very weak, and the wound is so painful…”
The Queen was nearly moved to tears again, hurriedly comforting him with a soft voice, “The Lord will protect you, my dear! You will be alright.”
Louis XVI then turned a searching gaze to the doctor standing by.
The doctor, somewhat helplessly, approached and said, “Your Majesty, the Crown Prince’s wound has been meticulously treated, now all he can do is rest quietly. As for the pain, perhaps His Highness could take some Dover Powder.”
At the mention of Dover Powder, Joseph’s eyelid twitched—the “Dover Powder” was a commonly used painkiller made from opium, not exactly a trifling matter.
“`
He hurriedly changed the subject, looking terrified as he said to Queen Mary, “Mother, that bullet flew right between Count Eman and me. If it had been half a foot off, it would have hit my heart…”
Queen Mary and Louis XVI were both deeply shaken when they heard this and repeatedly comforted their son.
Count Eman added “insult to injury” by saying, “Your Majesty, although the bullet did not hit His Highness, the splinters from the carriage were also very dangerous. Look, the wound on His Highness is from the splinter that was ejected.”
“Luckily we had God’s protection, otherwise if a piece of wood had pierced His Highness’s eye or something, the consequences would have been too dreadful to imagine!”
Joseph and his servant exchanged an imperceptible glance, silently applauding each other’s performances.
It wasn’t until late at night that Queen Mary and Louis XVI left the Crown Prince’s sleeping quarters, still not having recovered from the shock.
The next morning at ten o’clock, all the Cabinet Ministers were summoned to the conference hall. Before the Queen lay several sketches. Count Robel was at her side, narrating the investigation findings related to yesterday’s assassination attempt.
“This is a British-made 1742 flintlock gun bullet,” Robel pointed to a sketch of the carriage interior, “fired through the door and finally stopped by a post on the other side of the carriage. Judging by the penetrating power, it must have been shot from quite a distance away.”
Anyone investigating would certainly arrive at the same conclusion.
Because the marks on the carriage were indeed made by a 1742 flintlock gun, fired by Kesode’s own hand, who carefully adjusted the amount of gunpowder to ensure the power was just right.
Afterward, he used wax to seal the door and carriage’s damaged areas and painted over them. From the outside, it was very difficult to notice. When the “assailant’s” gunfire was heard, Joseph removed the wax, replacing it with previously collected bullets and wood splinters, recreating the scene of the shooting.
“What was the identity of the perpetrator?” Brian asked, frowning.
“They were two gang members,” Robel gestured to a sketch of the perpetrators’ bodies, “called the Blood Blade Gang. They have committed multiple crimes recently, robbing people on the road and have killed seven or eight people.”
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Baron Weymorel, captain of the Queen’s guard, added from the side, “Your Majesty, we have thoroughly compared the bulletins and brought in police from Moretrowan Town for identification, leaving no doubt they were members of the gang.”
Justice Minister Baron Breti was puzzled, “How did they get close to the convoy?”
Robel pointed to a map and explained, “They must have slipped through the farmland from the east, then took advantage of a lapse in the Imperial Guard’s vigilance to sneak into a farmhouse.”
He and Weymorel were previously perplexed; the farmhouse was more than three hundred paces from the fields, and at the time, at least ten Imperial Guard soldiers should have had sight of the place.
After much discussion, they could only attribute it to General Besanval’s negligence, such as gaps in the patrol arrangement or lack of discipline among the soldiers, perhaps even sleeping on duty.
No one would have guessed that the attackers were brought to the scene by the biggest victim himself.
Robel continued reporting the investigation findings, “Then those two killed the soldiers guarding the farmhouse and hid in the attic. When the convoy passed by, they shot at the Crown Prince with their gun.”
“Upon hearing the gunshot, the Imperial Guard fired at the attic, killing the assailants on the spot,” Weymorel added.
After a moment of contemplation, the Justice Minister wondered, “Why did those two guys want to assassinate the Crown Prince?”
“Hmph, obviously someone paid them a lot of money to do it,” Mono snorted coldly, “There are too many plotters who want to ruin the future of France.”
Brian pondered, “Or perhaps, they intended to assassinate Princess Maria, but due to the great distance, the bullet went off course.”
If it was as he suggested, the assassins’ objective would be to provoke a war between two countries. Regardless, the consequences of this attack were extremely serious.
Queen Mary closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke, “It seems the course of events is quite clear now. Count Robel, please continue your investigation into the mastermind behind this.”
She then looked at Breti, “Now, I want to know, what punishment will the Imperial Guard, especially General Besanval, who was responsible for protecting the Crown Prince’s convoy, face?”
After pondering, Breti carefully responded, “Your Majesty, I believe General Besanval has been grossly negligent in his duties and should be dismissed and exiled.”
