Crisis Management

Diboa sniffed, a sense of foreboding rising within him. He quickly turned and ordered the officers, "Antoine, spread out and search! Faustin, go back and get more men, quick!"

About half an hour later, a large contingent of police officers had surrounded the area, and Antoine rushed back to Diboa, reporting, "Sir, a Farmhouse to the north has been shelled. An old man and his wife are dead, and the house and livestock shed have been destroyed."

"Artillery fire?!" Diboa frowned deeply.

After a while, the other searchers returned one after another, but they found nothing of value. By then, it was already dark, and it was difficult to see anything beyond ten steps. In addition, the French Guard were well prepared, which made the police officers return empty-handed.

Early the next morning.

In a small room on the second floor of the Industrial Planning Bureau, Murdoch was looking at the notes and drawings in front of him with excitement and anxiety. The bloodshot eyes showed that he hadn't slept all night.

The things the Crown Prince told him were so astonishing and tempting that he had absolutely no desire to go to sleep.

He picked up a complex schematic diagram, shook his head and sighed deeply, thinking to himself, "It's fortunate that the Crown Prince of France didn't get involved in the Steam Engine, otherwise both I and Watt would probably be out of a job."

These ideas are simply incredible and ingenious; it's unbelievable that they came up with by a fourteen-year-old boy!

He spent most of yesterday morning and evening figuring out the design principles of the new Throttle valve and the new Safety valve that the Crown Prince had told him, and he also had a general idea of how to process them.

However, there are still many things he doesn't understand. The most "terrifying" of these is the principle of the "Triple-expansion steam engine," which has an incredibly high thermal energy utilization rate, but is also incredibly complex.

To make matters worse, the Crown Prince only gave him the principles and ideas, leaving him to complete the specific mechanical design.

He doesn't even dare to think about the words "three-stage increase" now, otherwise his brain will immediately throb with pain; clearly, it's already overwhelmed...

After a long while, Murdoch finally gave up, tidied up the documents, and walked towards the Crown Prince's office.

"Actually, you don't need to be in such a hurry," Joseph said with a smile, comforting the inventor who looked exhausted. "In the short term, you only need to build the existing Steam Engine. These new technologies can be developed slowly; five, eight, or even ten years is perfectly fine."

Just kidding, if Murdoch could actually implement all the technologies he mentioned yesterday, France industry would take off right from the start!

However, everything has its own objective laws of development. Without the accumulation of low-level technologies, high-level technologies will always remain castles in the air.

Just like Triple-expansion steam engine, which has extremely high requirements for precision machining and materials, even if Murdoch suddenly had a burst of inspiration, completed the specific design, and then handcrafted it, it would inevitably end up exploding during operation—because the materials and machining level would be far from meeting the requirements.

Joseph shared these advanced technologies with Murdoch for two reasons: first, to give him a sense of technological direction; and second, to attract him and make him more committed to working in France.

"Thank you for your understanding, Your Highness." Murdoch seemed somewhat dejected, whether from exhaustion or a setback—he had always considered himself a genius in the field of Steam Engine, despite his rather clumsy interpersonal skills. He never imagined that even after someone had explained the principles and design concepts to him, he still couldn't build one.

He sighed and said, "Your Highness, actually, I wanted to recommend someone to assist me in researching the technologies you proposed."

"Oh? Who are you talking about?"

"My neighbor and former colleague, Mr. John Sander, was a very talented technician," Murdoch said. "You may not have heard of him because his invention, the ' Boiler pressure gauge,' was considered an important trade secret by Mr. Watt and was never made public."

"Mr. Sander's current living conditions are not very good. I believe that if you offer a suitable salary, I can get him to come to France with just a letter."

Joseph felt somewhat ashamed; at this rate, he was bound to dig the corner of Watt's wall.

However, this is all because you, Mr. Watt, often "withhold" your employees' skills, which gave me the opportunity to take advantage of the situation. If I don't take advantage of it, I might as well.

"Thank you for your selfless recommendation." Joseph expressed his sincere gratitude first, then stated a number, "120 Livre. Do you think this is appropriate as Mr. Sander's monthly salary?"

Murdoch genuinely wanted to say "it's not suitable" because it was too high. In fact, offering only half of that salary would have been enough to get Sander to board the passenger ship bound for France without hesitation.

To be honest, from a personal perspective, he really didn't want Sander to come, as it would put competitive pressure on him. However, after reviewing the technical materials provided by the Crown Prince, he knew that he needed to find a helper; otherwise, relying solely on himself, he probably wouldn't be able to digest all that technology in more than a decade.

Murdoch bowed with his hand on his chest. "Your Highness, you are as generous as ever. I will go and write to Mr. Sander right away."

As he spoke, he remembered something else. "By the way, Your Highness, I saw that a rail system is being built in the center of Paris."

United Kingdom has had rail transport for decades, but it was used for transporting Mining Area and never appeared in cities.

"That's right, Paris Fashion Week is coming up soon, and they'll need horse-drawn Carriage to transport guests."

"That's a brilliant idea!" Murdoch exclaimed, then added, "However, to be blunt, your track installation crew is probably not very professional. While they came up with the good idea of using gravel for the foundation, the securing of the sleepers and the precision of the track installation are rather... well, you know."

Joseph thought to himself, "I was the one who told them to use gravel; these people's skills are indeed rather mediocre."

He quickly asked, "Do you have any suggestions regarding the construction?"

Murdoch waved his hands repeatedly. "Your Highness, I am not an expert in laying tracks. But I know some specialists in this field. Birmingham's Mining Area have laid a lot of tracks, and there have been relatively few new Coal Mine in recent years, resulting in their very poor revenue situation."

Joseph's eyes lit up. "Mr. Murdoch, you've worked as a headhunter, haven't you? You've brought me so many talented people in just over ten minutes!"

The importance of track-laying technicians is self-evident— Iron Rail are an essential technological advancement for the development of trains.

He nodded without hesitation. "Then please extend an invitation to them. France will have a lot of track-laying work in the next few years. The compensation will certainly satisfy them."

He had barely finished speaking when Eman strode in and whispered in his ear, "Your Highness, Baron Friant has arrived; he seems to have urgent business."

Murdoch, with remarkable tact, excused himself. The Police Academy 'Dean of Academic Affairs Friant, entered the office, closed the door behind him, quickly bowed to Joseph, and said anxiously, "Your Highness, something's happened..."

"The Farmhouse was hit by a shell, and people died?" Joseph frowned. "Was it caused by our training?"

"It shouldn't be," Friant said, head bowed. "As you instructed, the propellant charge during artillery training was halved. That Farmhouse is 1800 paces from the training ground; even if the gunner misaimed, the shell couldn't possibly fly that far."

Do you know who did it?

"That's still unclear. Major Diboa found Gunpowder residue and blackened weeds on the north side of the training ground, suggesting someone may have fired at the Farmhouse from there. But he hasn't apprehended any suspects."

Friant took a deep breath. "Your Highness, the most troublesome thing now is that the farmer insists that the cannons from the training ground hit his house."

"I don't know who leaked this information, but now there are a large number of reporters interviewing that family, and protesters are blocking the training ground..."

Joseph sensed that this was no simple matter, so he gestured to Eman, "Please prepare the car; I need to go check out the training ground. Oh, and send someone to inform Mr. Fouche to come over as well."

"Yes, Your Highness."

A short while later, on the Carriage heading to the training ground, Joseph asked Friant, "Theoretically speaking, is it possible for the cannons at the training ground to hit the Farmhouse?"

"Your Highness, if it's fully loaded with Gunpowder and there's a tailwind, Four-Pound Cannon can barely reach a range of 1800 paces."

Joseph nodded. "It seems someone is trying to frame us, and he must be very familiar with cannons."

He looked at Friant: "Who around Paris is equipped with Four-Pound Cannon?"

"The closest are the French Guard and the Imperial Guards. Oh, and the Mounted Police also have some artillery. A little further away are the Le Tretre Regiment and other units."

Joseph narrowed his eyes. It would be difficult for the Imperial Guards to escape everyone's notice when they dragged the cannons out of Versailles. It also seemed unreliable for a unit like the Le Tretre Regiment to transport the cannons from nearly a hundred kilometers away to Paris.

That leaves the French Guard and the Mounted Police as the prime suspects. But who is it?

A few hours later, the Crown Prince's Carriage arrived at the Police Academy Training Ground outside Paris.

Before Joseph even got out of the car, he saw dozens of people protesting outside the training ground, chanting things like "Police Academy is endangering farmers' lives" and "Stop training immediately."

Friant said with a pained expression, "Your Highness, it's been reported in today's newspapers. Paris are starting to say we accidentally attacked the Farmhouse. These protesters arrived early this morning."

Joseph thought for a moment and instructed Friant, "Forget about who did it for now, focus on Crisis Management."

Crisis Management?

"You will immediately go with Viscount Besançon on behalf of the Police Department to visit the farmers and promise to help them repair their house, and give them... 4,000 Livre. But remember, in front of the reporters, only say that it is assistance to that family, and never admit that it was an accident caused by our training, and that the details are still under investigation."

"Next, you will personally lead the police officers to repair the family's house every day, deliver three meals a day to them, and even help them feed their livestock. At the same time, you will publish an open letter condemning the perpetrators who attacked the farmers and expressing sympathy for the farmers' plight. The letter must be written with genuine emotion."

"I will have the Newspaper Office continue to report on this, gradually guiding public opinion."

Joseph then looked at the protesting crowd. "As for these people, try to appease them and agree to suspend artillery training. However, be prepared with shields in case anyone instigates trouble, but remember not to attack them."

"Yes, Your Highness, I will do it immediately."

Joseph didn't enter the training field. Instead, he first checked on the victim's condition from a distance before heading to the location Diboa had found where the suspected perpetrator had fired the cannon.

Diboa had the scene carefully preserved. Pointing to the marks on the ground, he said to Joseph, "Your Highness, judging from the depth, these wheel marks should have been made by the wheels of the gun carriage."

"And this mound of earth is where the gun carriage was fixed. Judging from the footprints, there should have been seven people and two horses, just enough to operate a Four-Pound Cannon."

"I suspect those people fired at the Farmhouse over there while we were practicing shooting."

Joseph was looking around when he saw Fouche arrive with officers from the Police Intelligence Division.

Fouche had already learned the general situation on his way there, and immediately began to carefully search the surrounding area. Afterwards, he went to the victims' location and returned with a shell.

"Your Highness, there are only tire tracks leading to the nearby woods, suggesting that some of the murderers may have escaped to Paris," Fouche said gravely. "With these clues alone, it's difficult to determine their identities."

Joseph looked at the shell in his hand and shook his head, saying, "Every contact leaves a trace. For example, not all Four-Pound Cannon can fire this shell."

Due to the limited artillery manufacturing capabilities at the time, it was difficult to make cannons with completely uniform calibers, so cannonballs had to be custom-made.

"These tire tracks and footprints also contain useful information. I hope you can use them as soon as possible to determine who is framing the Police Academy."

"Oh, by the way, considering the nearby units with Four-Pound Cannon, the French Guard and Mounted Police are the most likely candidates."

Fouche repeated softly, "Every contact leaves a trace," then slowly nodded, raising his hat in a gesture of respect to Joseph: "Your Highness, I will find out who did it as soon as possible."

The following day, the Minister of the Interior's messenger rushed to the Industrial Planning Bureau and delivered Mono's letter to the Crown Prince.

Joseph opened the envelope and read Mono's letter, which stated that many Nobility had complained to him about the shelling of their Farmhouse to the Police Department or Police Academy, demanding that he close the Police Academy Training Ground.

The Police Department is still nominally under the jurisdiction of the Interior Administration System, so complaints are all directed to the Minister of the Interior.

Mono was then forced to relay the matter to the Crown Prince was in actual control of the Police System.

"You came fast enough." Joseph tossed the letter aside, a cold glint in his eyes. "Don't let me catch you!"

Police Intelligence Division Headquarters.

An intelligence officer was reporting the latest findings to Fouche: "The Mounted Police have a total of three cannons. As we expected, these guys only bully farmers and probably haven't used the cannons in a long time; the hooks and axles are covered in rust."

Mounted Police are similar to rural Patrol and Taxation inspectors, and are not part of the Police System.

"It seems the focus should be on the French Guard," Fouche said, glancing at Prosper beside him. "Have you made any discoveries there?"

(End of this chapter)

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