A covert strike

The gang member glared menacingly at the distant church and yelled at the crowd, "Don't be fooled by those priests! Their food will only last until tomorrow or the day after. 🐊💣 👤♖ If you don't want to go hungry, you have to rely on yourselves!"

As demanded by their boss, who was also Spy for the Duke of Orléans, they had to incite a riot of at least 500 people today in order to receive their wages.

Now, only about a hundred people had gathered around them—there are always wicked people everywhere, and even if there is food, these people would still want to take advantage of the Nobility' homes. They had already robbed quite a bit of property these past few days.

By 5 p. m., the rioters hadn't even mustered 200 people. The gang leader, cursing and swearing, dismissed the crowd and led his men back to their lodgings.

Seeing this, the shoemaker across the street immediately stood up and whispered, "Sir, they've left."

"Sit down first." Prosper, disguised as a customer, calmly put on his boots, waited a moment, and then gestured to the dozen or so "citizens" standing or leaning around him, "Stay close to your target."

Those people nodded subtly, following at a distance behind some of the rioters.

Prosper, accompanied by two men, personally followed the gang members.

As instructed by His Crown Prince, the riot broke out quickly and spread extremely rapidly, indicating that someone was instigating it from behind the scenes.

The Police Intelligence Division's most pressing task is to find the mastermind behind the riots. Police Intelligence Division have been deployed to all the South provinces, while Prosper is personally in charge of Montpellier, where the unrest is most severe.

The gang members entered a two-story building in the west of the city. Prosper circled the building and, seeing that there were henchmen guarding both the front and back doors, he was already fairly certain of what had happened.

At 2 a. m., Sebas, the leader of the "Corpse Gang" gang, was woken from his sleep by someone holding a gun to his head.

"Who... who are you?" he roared, his voice a mixture of bravado and fear, as he stared at Prosper. "You'll regret messing with the Corpse Gang!"

"Night Fire Gang," Prosper uttered three words. These people were very useful, so he still needed to put on a show.

"The gangs of Agde Town?" Sebas retorted, "This isn't your territory!"

Prosper smiled. "I heard you guys made a fortune recently. To be honest, I'd like to do that business."

Although Sebas was extremely unwilling, he eventually revealed the address of the "big shot" under the threat of Pistol —a address he had obtained by having his underlings secretly follow the "big shot."

Prosper left, but returned before dawn, announcing to the "Corpse Gang" gang. "The business now belongs to the Night Fire Gang gang. The big shots only contact me. As for you, you'll each get 2 Livre a day. Take it or leave it?"

In fact, he had just led the Police Intelligence Division, with the cooperation of the Secret Police, to the hotel that Sebas had mentioned, arrested two people, and found thousands of Livre and some plans for a riot in that room.

The two men have not yet confessed, but it is almost certain that they were the ones who orchestrated the riots in Montpellier.

Although Sebas was unhappy about the halved wages, it was still a decent income.

So after the "Night Fire Gang" gang promised not to encroach on the "Corpse Gang" gang's territory, he reluctantly agreed.

Prosper then ordered him to gather all his gang members, preparing for a big heist.

At the same time, a similar scene unfolded in various departments of the South France.

The Church was remarkably efficient, at least surpassing the France bureaucracy. The priests carried out sacks of Grain from the cellars, quickly alleviating the food shortage, and the starving people dispersed.

Police Intelligence Division responded by launching raids in various locations.

The Spy secretly kept by the Duke of Orléans were no match for the national Intelligence Agency, and most of those who organized the riots fell into the control of the Police Intelligence Division.

Northeast France.

Strasbourg.

Marshal François, who was also the Duke of Broglie, leaned back in his chair, looked out the window at the cypress trees under the blazing sun, and said in the stern tone typical of a soldier, "So, the riots in the South have been quelled just like that?"

His son, Charles - Louis Victor, hesitated for a moment before replying, "That's roughly it, Father. There are still riots in Foix, Béarn, and other places. You know, even in good years, things often go wrong in those places."

In the South border provinces of France, separatist forces have always been active. In other impoverished and remote areas, even after food shortages have disappeared, people there still greedily rob wealthy households.

Marshal François nodded slowly. "Has anyone carried out the Royal House order?"

Louis Victor knew he was referring to the order to recall officers, "As far as I know, not yet, Father. It's obvious; leaving the garrison means losing everything."

The Marshal sighed, somewhat relieved that he was too old and his son was useless, which prevented him from getting involved in the affairs of Marquis of Luckner and his group.

Although he returned to his post to express his support for the military group as a stakeholder, at least he did not threaten the Royal House, so there was still room for maneuver.

He stared blankly at the halo created by the sunlight, and after a while, he shook his head slightly. "If this drags on, Marquis of Luckner and his men will be bogged down. Is the outcome already predetermined?"

Finally, decades of political experience helped him make a decision. He looked up at his son and said, "Victor, get ready, we're going to Paris."

The latter was immediately startled. "You're going to betray me...?"

The Marshal, over seventy years old, shook his head. "I am only loyal to His Majesty the King; there has been no betrayal. Oh, and don't forget to write to the Versailles Palace to report our decision."

January 24, 1789.

Forez department, the South France.

This place is already right next to the Provence region, and less than 100 kilometers further south is Montpellier.

Joseph, dressed in his brand-new cavalry Military Uniform, rode past amidst the cheers of the soldiers lining the road, occasionally smiling and waving back at them.

After the Tunisia campaign, his horsemanship improved significantly, and he developed calluses on his legs, which made marching much easier for him—riding a horse was tiring, but it was much easier than walking.

As for the Carriage, he had chosen secluded paths to conceal the army's movements, so Carriage would have been like torture.

Thanks to the fact that more than a third of the Wooden Railway between Paris and Lyon had been laid, the Royal Guard Legion were able to advance at an extremely fast pace in the early stages, reaching 38 kilometers per day.

However, after the Wooden Railway section ends, the speed drops back to less than 30 kilometers per hour, which is still very fast.

The most pitiful were the Moulins Legion. Although they had trained with the Royal Guard Legion in Tunisia for a while, their marching speed was still too slow.

To avoid falling behind, Andre constantly maintained formation every day—the biggest obstacle to increasing marching speed—almost to the point of losing his voice from shouting.