The French Guard's "Humiliation"

After the Plantation Owner had all signed their Potato planting contracts, Joseph smiled kindly and said that someone would soon come to handle their joining the France Brewing Technology Association and to teach their brewers the relevant techniques.

Finally, he also very kindly reminded everyone to be wary of unauthorized Wine Cellar using new Brewing Technology without proper authorization.

Pasteurization is actually very simple; it just involves controlling the temperature and heating time. People who come into contact with it can easily leak the information. However, France now has Patent Law and Patent Bureau. Anyone who dares to use Patent technology without authorization will face financial ruin.

The Plantation Owner present immediately expressed their shared indignation and pledged to do their utmost to supervise the situation.

Competitors are enemies; they'd love for fewer competitors so their own sales would improve. Besides, they've paid membership fees and Patent royalties, so how could they stand by and watch those who haven't joined "get something for free"?

Even more extreme, they are already planning how to acquire the properties of Count Ledney and others at low prices after they go bankrupt.

Joseph praised everyone's loyalty to the King before leaving the Arson Wine Cellar.

Upon arriving at the gates of the Arson Manor, he suddenly slapped his forehead. How could he have forgotten about him? So he instructed Eman, "Count Eman, please invite Mr. Venio over."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Before long, the Crown Prince's entourage slowly set off and left the vineyard.

Inside the Carriage, Joseph smiled at Venio, "Mr. Venio, you see, just as I said, everyone will be very enthusiastic about planting Potato."

Venio, of course, remembered their bet and immediately said in a tone full of admiration, "Your Highness, what you have done is truly astonishing. Please give me your orders, and I will do my utmost to accomplish anything within my power."

Joseph nodded with satisfaction. "Then I would like to express my gratitude in advance for your hard work. The promotion of Potato cultivation in Bordeaux has been quite successful. There are other similar places where this method can also be used to promote it, such as Burgundy and Provence."

Upon hearing this, Venio immediately understood the Crown Prince's meaning and his eyes lit up – Burgundy and Provence are both Wine regions, and although their production volume is not as high as Bordeaux's, their Brewing Industry are still very important in their respective areas.

If we use new winemaking techniques as bait and simply copy the Bordeaux model, I believe many Plantation Owner will be willing to grow Potato.

Joseph added, "Oh, and Brittany and Normandy can also use this method to promote Potato."

"Huh?" Venio was greatly puzzled. "Your Highness, but these places don't produce Wine..."

Joseph smiled slightly, "But they have the Beer industry. My Brewing Technology work not only for Wine, but also for Beer and Spirits."

Venio's eyes widened. "This technology is simply incredible!"

"It can even be used to preserve milk," Joseph added casually, glancing at Venio and smiling. "I hope you can go to these places for me and promote Potato cultivation using Brewing Technology. Of course, I'll provide you with the necessary manpower."

Venio is an exceptional orator and very dedicated to Potato cultivation, making him the perfect person for the job. With him running around, Joseph can save a lot of energy.

Venio immediately bowed and said, "Your Highness, it is an honor to serve you. I will certainly make you satisfied!"

He then discussed some important details of the "Potato -for-technology" deal with Joseph, and finally couldn't help but ask the question that had been bothering him most lately, "Your Highness, can you tell me how you managed to significantly improve both the success rate and quality of the brewing process without even participating in it?"

Joseph didn't hide anything, after all, he was protected by the Patent Law and wasn't afraid of him revealing anything. "Mr. Venio, brewing failures and poor quality are both related to the wine turning sour. Do you know where the sourness comes from?"

Venio, who runs Wine Cellar and is quite knowledgeable in the field, immediately replied, "There are generally a few possibilities, such as poor grape quality, or inaccurate control of the winemaking time..."

Joseph waited for him to finish speaking, then smiled and shook his head, "The factors you mentioned may have an impact, but they are not the root cause."

Venio's eyes widened immediately. "The root cause? What is that?"

"Lactic Acid Bacteria."

"Lactic Acid Bacteria?" Venio was taken aback. "It seems to be a type of Bacteria?"

Joseph nodded. "That's right, it's the stuff used to make yogurt."

"But that's yeast," Venio blurted out.

"That's just a misunderstanding," Joseph corrected. "Actually, it's something completely different from yeast. It breaks down proteins or sugars, releasing lactic acid, which is the source of the sour taste in wine."

"These Bacteria are found everywhere in nature, so they can easily mix into the grape pulp or water during winemaking, causing the wine to turn sour."

"Fortunately, they are very fragile; they will die completely if they are kept in an environment of 60 degrees Celsius for only half an hour."

Venio pondered for a moment and said, "According to you, simply heating the brewing ingredients to 60 degrees Celsius and keeping it there for half an hour will solve all the problems?"

"That's true."

Venio's face was filled with disbelief. "It's that simple?!"

"That's how science works; if you ignore the process of exploration, the conclusions are often not complicated." Joseph smiled and nodded.

The next morning, as Joseph was having his luggage packed to return to Paris, Governor Monsoreau and Venio suddenly came to his room.

Joseph was somewhat surprised; there were still two hours until his scheduled departure time, so why had these two come to see him off so early?

After bowing, Monsoreau appeared rather embarrassed. "Your Highness, please forgive me, but after discussing it with Mr. Venio, I think it would be best to inform you of this matter."

"What is it? Please tell me."

"That's right, Viscount Joubert, Viscount Vienne, and Baron Chapelier wish for an opportunity to serve His Majesty the King. I mean, they want to grow some Potato."

Seeing that the Crown Prince had no recollection of the two names, Venio quickly reminded him, "Your Highness, they did not attend the meeting the following day."

Monsoreau continued, "Your Highness, they have indicated their willingness to plant Potato on half of the plantation area."

Joseph frowned. Venio quickly advised, "Your Highness, they know they were wrong and are begging for your forgiveness..."

Joseph knew that these three men had also gone to great lengths; just getting the Governor to act as an intermediary must have cost a considerable amount of money.

They're really asking for trouble. Well then, let them bleed a little more; it'll be good if they can grow more Potato.

So, with a cold face, he said, "Tell them to plant Potato on two-thirds of the plantation area, and double the additional fees. That's it."

Monsoreau's expression relaxed, and he quickly bowed, saying, "Yes, Your Highness, they will certainly thank you for your kindness and generosity."

As for those Nobility who had not yet received the news or were still hesitating, they had lost their last chance to join the Brewing Technology Association. A bleak future awaited them.

Several days later, the Crown Prince's entourage entered Paris.

Looking out the car window, Joseph saw that many public toilets had been built along the streets, and citizens were going in and out of them. Occasionally, he could also see manure carts, loaded with farmyard manure, being pulled by horses out of the city.

There were many signs on the street saying "No urinating or defecating in public," and the Police were also keeping a close eye on passersby. If anyone made any move to relieve themselves in public, they would immediately blow their whistles and rush over to give them a scolding.

The results have been remarkable; the amount of feces on the streets has decreased by 70-80%. However, there are still some who manage to defecate indiscriminately, leaving traces. This is not surprising, as cultivating good public hygiene habits among the public is not something that can be achieved overnight.

At that time, Paris was considered quite clean and tidy compared to other major Europe cities.

Joseph took a deep breath and felt that the air in the city was much fresher; he no longer had that feeling of constantly needing to use the restroom.

As the Carriage crossed the Seine River, Joseph felt, perhaps psychologically, that even the river water seemed clearer.

In fact, with less feces on the streets, less filth was washed into the Seine River by rainwater. Even Paris Citizens drawing water from the river could faintly sense that the river water was starting to taste "lighter".

This has prompted them to pay more attention to the problem of urinating and defecating in public, and many citizens have begun to report people who relieve themselves in the street to the Police.

When the car passed a rather deserted public restroom, Joseph ordered it to stop, then got out and went inside with great interest to experience it.

Inside was a large pit latrine, divided into four squatting positions by wooden planks, with handrails thoughtfully installed on the planks. Directly opposite the squatting positions was a long row of urinals; overall, it was quite a proper latrine.

Joseph relieved himself and came out of the public restroom satisfied. After walking a few steps, he suddenly felt that something was wrong.

He turned around and looked around; it seemed like everything he should have was there...

Suddenly, he realized something, and his face turned ashen—this public restroom only had one door, meaning it was only for men?!

He recalled the public toilets along the way, and then asked Eman, finally confirming that they were all indeed only for men.

After figuring out why the Crown Prince was unhappy, Eman tried to explain, "Your Highness, perhaps they think that ladies rarely relieve themselves in the street."

Joseph sighed. He's such a worry; he can't afford to skip a single word of advice...

The convoy restarted, and as it gradually approached the city center, various promotional posters for Fashion Week began to appear on both sides of the street, and road signs with arrows and multiple languages were added at intersections.

As arranged by Joseph, the Fashion Week advertisements had already begun to be placed throughout Europe more than a month ago, with advertising costs alone exceeding Livre.

However, the results are remarkable. Now, the focus of conversation among Nobility from various countries is Paris Fashion Week, and even the Tuileries Palace's high-end hotels have been booked for more than 70% of their rooms.

It's easy to imagine that once Fashion Week officially opens, a massive influx of foreign tourists will flood into Paris, spending Gold Coin and creating a historic event.

A cocktail party is being held in a Villa in the South suburbs of Paris.

Most of the attendees were military officers. Their small circle didn't particularly like salons, so cocktail parties became their most common form of socializing.

In an inconspicuous corner of the party, a Major with a mouthful of blackened teeth swirled his glass and said in a deep voice, "Orol, tell me about the modus operandi of those lowly Police."

The tall, thin Lieutenant beside him immediately nodded respectfully and lowered his voice, saying, "I had men watching that Police's training ground for over ten days and discovered they conduct artillery training every three days..."

The surrounding officers immediately showed expressions of disdain:

"A bunch of lousy Police even managed to get their hands on artillery!"

"Hmph, they're lucky they didn't fire a shell into their own Camp."

"That's right, artillery isn't something people like them can operate!"

Orol continued, describing the Police Academy: "On the day of artillery training, they would practice twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, with intervals..."

After he finished speaking, the Black Fang Major asked again, "Have you investigated the situation of the surrounding villages?"

Orol nodded, pulled out a piece of paper, and pointed to the rectangle in the middle. "This is the damn training ground, and these circles around it represent Farmhouse."

Major Blackfang observed for a moment, then pointed to a circle on the north side. "How far is this from the Police training ground?"

"Half -Lieue."

"That's a bit far. How about here?"

"A little over one-third of Lieue."

"Alright, this is it. There's also a dense forest nearby." Major Blackfang sneered. "Sehilian, you and your men are in charge of guarding the area."

He pointed to the north side of the training ground on the map and said, "Right here. Orol, you're in charge of transporting the cannons and moving them away after you've succeeded. If anything unexpected happens, hide in this dense forest first."

"According to your intelligence, the Police's last training session is around 4 PM. If you delay for just a moment, it will get dark, and then you can return to the Military Camp at your leisure."

"Yes!"

Major Blacktooth then looked at the short, blond man sitting opposite him. "Kemu, you and your men are in charge of firing. You only have one shot, and it must hit the Farmhouse. After that, retreat quickly into Paris."

"Okay, don't worry."

"Orol, when is their next training session?"

"The day after tomorrow, sir."

"Alright. Go familiarize yourselves with the terrain again tomorrow, and we'll make our move the day after." Major Blackfang raised his glass and said fiercely, "Cheers! Those lowly Police dared to insult the General and the French Guard; this time, they'll be taught a lesson they won't forget!"

These men were officers of the French Guard.

The last time the commander of the French Guard Bessonval, was forced back by police officers at gunpoint outside the Police Academy Training Ground, he considered it a great humiliation and blamed the Police Academy's Dean of Academic Affairs and the Paris Police Commissioner for it.

Of course, Bessonval, as a high-ranking military officer, knew that it would take political maneuvering to deal with these two, while his subordinates just wanted to vent their anger immediately.

(End of this chapter)