Declaring War on Natural Disasters

Charles was received by the assistant to the French Admiralty Minister at the Palace of Versailles, and a small commendation ceremony was held for him, and he was given a bonus of 500 livres.♙♜ ❻9 🐙👽

Charles certainly deserves this reward; without the intelligence he obtained from the smugglers about the pirates, the Combined Fleet might still be taking its chances in the vast Mediterranean Sea.

However, after the commendation ceremony, a French official told him that the original arrangement for him to testify at the public trial of the pirates had changed, and he now needed to return to Algiers immediately to help the French "diplomats" contact Younis Pasha.

Bourges in north-central France is a very poor region, and the parish of Labonne is one of the poorest villages there.

Alberic, Annual Tribute Farmer, sat on a wooden barrel, breathing in the scorching air. The parched earth before him filled his face with despair.

He simply didn't have the strength to continue fetching water.

As the weather gets hotter, the stream that used to flow past the village has dried up. Now he has to walk two Lieue to fetch water from a neighboring village to irrigate his land.

Yes, the village has too few horses for public use; they can only use them once every ten days or so.

The little water that he carried by hand was of no use to the 30 mu of land he was cultivating.

After the hailstorm, he applied for government-provided Potato seeds, but to his surprise, it never rained again.

So far, he has only planted two acres of Potato, which is the limit that he and his son can irrigate together by carrying water. If he planted more, the Potato would dry out and die due to lack of water.

Alberic was already considering whether he should eat the Potato he had used as seeds—although that would be a serious violation of the rules, the priest said they could only be kept for about half a month, and he couldn't let them all rot.

Just then, a young tenant farmer from the village passed by not far away, ringing a bell and shouting loudly as he went:

"All men, gather at the church!"

Alberic waved to the man and asked loudly:

"Didier, are you here to work for the Baron?"

"No, we're going to help," Didier said, "To help the Yannar parish move stones."

"Huh? Moving stones?"

Didier nodded impatiently, "Yes, the government specially brought it over, saying it's some kind of fertilizer that will make crops grow better. But it just looks like rocks."

Alberic quickly called to his son, and together they hurried toward the church.

Forty or fifty people had gathered near the church, whispering among themselves.

Why do we have to work in Yannar village?

"I heard from Mr. Audrean that the government passed a ' Water Pump Rental Act,' and they got a Water Pump!"

"But what does this have to do with us?"

The parish of Yannar was relatively better off, barely able to afford to rent Water Pump, while the parish of Labonne was destitute, unable to even afford the monthly rent of 200 Livre, let alone Parish Bank.

One villager immediately said, "Mr. Audrean said that according to the Lend-Lease Act, the village of Yannar has to lend us the Water Pump for 11 days each month, and in return, we need to help them with their work."

"Water Pump?!" Alberic exclaimed excitedly. "I heard that thing can irrigate dozens of acres a day! This is a lifesaver!"

Shortly after, the parish Stadtholder Audrean arrived at the church, first counting the number of people present, and then giving the instructions:

"Today and tomorrow we'll be moving fertilizer for the Yannar parish. The day after tomorrow we'll be moving our own."

"After that, we'll also help them repair the irrigation canals."

He said, a look of delight on his face, "However, they'll bring the Water Pump tomorrow night!"

The tenant farmers immediately erupted in cheers. With water, they had hope of survival. Ignoring the Liège overhead, they followed Audrean toward the neighboring village.

Two days later, Alberic's family also received those light gray "stones" with some black spots. According to the priest, these were very precious fertilizers; all they needed to do was break them into powder, soak them in water, and then water the fields to greatly increase the crop yield.

All the fertilizer was purchased on credit from a company called "Gemini Trading Company" under an agreement signed between the parish and the company. The cost was calculated to be 5 to 7 sous per acre, with payment due after the autumn harvest. However, the company guaranteed that if the increased yield did not exceed the cost of the fertilizer, they would not charge a single penny.

Yes, these stones were brought back from Nauru by Joseph's men. They are scientifically known as Phosphate Ore, but are actually mineralized bird droppings.

This is absolutely the best fertilizer available in this day and age!

It's worth noting that Nauru in later generations became one of the wealthiest nations in a short period by selling "Guano." Its French People owned supercars, freely purchased properties in Australia, and flew abroad for medical treatment for colds.

Of course, what happened later, when the ore ran out and they were impoverished again overnight, is another story.

Due to limited transportation capacity, only two shipments of Phosphate Ore, totaling over 600 tons, have been transported back so far, temporarily used to supply the more difficult regions of France. However, a second fleet of seventeen ships has already arrived in the Pacific Ocean, and their return will greatly increase France agricultural production.

However, United Kingdom remains the world's maritime superpower, so France cannot make this public for the time being and can only secretly transport the "stones" back. If word gets out one day, the French may very well seize them from the United Kingdom.

Therefore, Joseph also had another plan in mind: promoting composting.

So-called "composting" is the process of using microorganisms to process organic matter, such as leaves, straw, food scraps, and even feces, and decompose them into humus, which is fertilizer that plants can absorb.

Before the widespread use of Fertilizer, this was arguably the best way for humans to produce fertilizer, as it could maintain soil fertility for many years without requiring fallow land.

Although Europe had simple composting methods in the 17th century, these were based on experience, simply mixing organic matter together and letting it sit for a while, resulting in very limited fertilizer effectiveness. It wasn't until the mid-19th century, with the development of scientific composting theories, that fertilizer effectiveness gradually improved.

Joseph learned about the basic principles of composting from documentaries from later generations. It's simply a matter of layering organic matter with soil, controlling moisture, and isolating it from air. Then, the compost is turned over once a month, and it decomposes in three months.

However, theory is one thing, but how to actually do it, and the ratio of organic matter to water, are things that professionals need to figure out.

Joseph entrusted this task to the Church.

Yes, compared to inefficient bureaucrats, the Church is quite attentive to people's livelihoods. By having clergy from dozens of churches conduct composting in different proportions and observing the results, they can find the most suitable composting method and then promote it nationwide.

It's late at night.

Alberic and two villagers followed the Carriage back to the village, then lit torches and unloaded the coal from the wagon next to the Water Pump.

The coal was transported from a small Coal Mine more than ten Lieue away. These kinds of small Coal Mine are everywhere now. A while ago, the government enacted the "Coal Mining Promotion Act" to encourage Coal Mine mining, and the government will provide subsidies to Coal Mine that reach a certain sales volume.

Since then, investors with a dozen or so people have sprung up like mushrooms after rain to run small Coal Mine, and the price of coal has continued to drop. Now, as long as the villagers go to the Coal Mine to carry the coal themselves, the village can afford the amount of coal consumed by the Water Pump.

Watching the water, illuminated by the torches, flow through the irrigation canals and into the vast fields, Alberic and the others, though exhausted and aching all over, wore smiles on their faces.

Obviously, 11 days of irrigation per month cannot cover all the Farmland in the village, but it can at least save more than 60% of the crops. With the addition of that supposedly magical stone fertilizer, this autumn should be enough to feed the whole family.

The parish of Labonne is fortunate. Due to the limited production capacity of France Steam Engine, many areas in dire need of irrigation have submitted applications under the Water Pump Rental Act, but can only anxiously wait for life-saving Water Pump.

Sfax, eastern Tunisia.

A man in his thirties, with deep-set eyes and a thin, high nose, Carriage and strode into a candy shop on the street that was clearly French in style.

There are many France merchants throughout Tunisia, especially in high-end shops selling silk, sugar, and Tea; many of these shops are owned by France people.

The shop owner glanced at him, then casually opened the door behind the counter, letting him walk straight into the back room.

At this moment, Prosper of the Paris Police Intelligence Division was sitting in the room, wearing a gray-white robe commonly worn by Tunisia and a gold bucket-shaped hat, idly fiddling with the dates on a plate.

The man, who had a distinctly North Africa appearance, entered the house. Prosper quickly raised his hat to him and said in French:

"Fabian... oh, sorry, I should say Mr. Ishaq, how are things?"

Ishaq first picked up the water on the table and drank several large gulps before excitedly saying:

"I met that officer named Imanzad. He did know Younis, or rather, he admired him."

"Most fortunately, this Imanzad is nearing retirement and only holds a sinecure in the Tunisia army."

"What kind of luck is that?" Prosper paused halfway through his sentence, then his eyes lit up. "You mean, he has plenty of time to go to Algiers?"

"That's right!" Ishaq nodded, "But he doesn't seem to trust me very much yet, so he's unwilling to make any promises. Next, we'll have to send our consul."

Prosper hadn't expected things to go so smoothly; they had made contact with Younis's former subordinates in just ten days after arriving in Tunisia.

Of course, this was also thanks to Ishaq, a Police Intelligence Division of North Africa descent—whose heritage had previously led to discrimination against him. Here, his fluency in Arabic and familiarity with North Africa customs helped him to excel.

Prosper also gulped down several mouthfuls of water—in this godforsaken place, if you don't drink enough water before leaving, you'll soon be unbearably thirsty—and pulled Ishaq toward the door:

"Let's go find Consul Joanne now."

Three days later, after several contacts between the France consul and Imanzad, the latter finally boarded a Smuggling Ship that had been waiting in the port with agents from the Police Intelligence Division.

They will head directly to Dakhla in Algiers to meet Younis, who left Tunisia more than 30 years ago.

Versailles Palace Square.

The square was teeming with people; there were probably tens of thousands gathered there. They had all come from Paris to attend His Majesty the King's birthday celebrations.

A month ago, the newspapers reported that a grand singing and dancing competition and a sword fighting competition would be held here three days before and after the King's birthday. Of course, the most attractive thing was that free food would be distributed every day at 5 pm.

Of course, many people also came for the lottery with a prize of up to 3,000 Livre, as mentioned in the newspaper—a ticket could be bought for just 1 sou.

On the King's birthday, His Majesty will personally announce the winning numbers and publicly award a huge prize.

Paris Citizens were very interested in the idea of getting rich overnight. Most people with spare cash bought a lottery ticket, while others bought several or even dozens to increase their chances of winning.

Although the celebrations had not yet begun, many vendors were already selling snacks and toys in the square, and street theater troupes were performing outdoors, creating a joyful and lively festive atmosphere. People had long forgotten about the hailstorm that had destroyed 65% of France's agricultural harvest.

In the Hall on the first floor of the Versailles Palace, a slightly overweight official sitting behind a wooden table glanced at his watch, stood up, and prepared to put away the wooden sign next to him that read "Registration for Fencing Competition".

Just then, a thin young man with his hat pulled low stepped forward, politely stopped him, and said in a strange voice:

"Please wait, I want to register."

"Oh, well, you've come just in time." The official had no choice but to sit back down in his chair, pick up his pen, and say, "I cannot register for others. Please tell me your name."

Jean- François Henry de Frez.

The official quickly wrote down the name, stamped it, and then handed him the slip of paper:

"Please keep your registration voucher, Viscount Frez."

"Thank you." The latter took the note and turned to leave.

The official suddenly remembered something and reached out his hand to him, saying:

"Wait! You said you are Viscount Frez?"

The young man didn't answer at all, and walked away even faster with his head down.

"Stop him!" the official in charge of registration shouted.

Upon hearing this, three guards immediately surrounded "Viscount Frez" and blocked his way.

The official in charge of registration walked over, looked at the applicants with suspicion, and said:

"If you don't mind, could you please take off your hat?"

"Viscount Frez" had no choice but to remove his Tricorn Hat and give him an apologetic smile.

With her beautiful eyes and sweet smile, she was clearly a lovely lady.

"As expected! You must be Miss Soleil, Sister of Viscount Frez? You can't do this," the official in charge of registration said, extending his hand. "This is a men's competition; fighting and violence are not suitable for a beautiful lady like you. Now, please return my registration certificate."

"But if I don't participate, who will get the championship?" Soleil smiled slightly, then suddenly pulled hard on the guard on her left, hooking his ankle with her boot, and in the moment he lost his balance, she darted past him on the left.

The guard blocked the view of the guard opposite him, and the last guard hurriedly chased after him, but after only circling the stairs twice, he had already lost sight of Soleil.

Meanwhile, on the wooden platform in the center of the Marble Courtyard, the Noblewoman ' competition was in full swing.

Centered around Queen Mary, five or six hundred Nobility formed a fan shape around the wooden platform.

A line of soldiers stood behind them, separating the thousands of civilians watching from the outer circle. The people of Paris rarely had the opportunity to witness a Nobility sing.

Suddenly, the Nobility cried out excitedly, "Madam Galan! It's Madam Galan!"

(End of this chapter)