Make France Great Again-Chapter 189: Reform! Reform!

December 15, 1849.

After the heavy snow season passed, the temperature in Paris, which has a temperate maritime climate, saw a slight drop. The temperature difference of 4 to 8 degrees Celsius between day and night made every Parisian feel the noticeable chill, and under the continuous invasion of cold, more and more people began to light fireplaces to keep warm.

Night fell, and the chill was even more intense. Under the sweeping winter wind, Paris felt as cold as if it had fallen into an ice cellar. Exhaling a breath seemed like it could instantly turn into frost.

Tonight in Paris, there were no stars, no moon. The kerosene lamps hanging on the streets weren’t even lit. The entire city seemed to be shrouded in a cold, deep black curtain.

Yet, in this cold night curtain, a force of nearly eight thousand troops stationed near the Temple Suburb was gathering.

"All units, organize your marching equipment, each person carry 30 rounds of ammunition to assemble! I’ll repeat it once more..."

The sergeants in charge of preparations before departure tirelessly explained the precautions to the company members, occasionally kicking distracted soldiers with their spurred boots, cursing at them to speed up. The soldiers hit by the spurred boots forced a smile harder than crying from the pain.

Of course, the soldiers kicked by the spurs were mostly new recruits who had joined the army less than two years ago. Meanwhile, seasoned soldiers who had been in the army for 5 or 6 years were indulging in banter with the company commander and quietly cursing the unsatisfactory officers.

As for the complaints from these seasoned soldiers, the company commander pretended not to hear them. He knew too well the characters of his hopeless men. Their skills at both fighting and causing trouble were directly proportional. Being too strict would only cause him to lose the support of the soldiers. He helplessly complained to the seasoned soldiers, "How the hell do I know what the higher-ups want to do? Anyway, the order from above is to assemble quickly! You, you, and you!" The company commander sternly scolded several dawdling seasoned soldiers, "Get your asses moving! I don’t want to lose face in front of the battalion commander!"

"Yes!" The seasoned soldiers certainly understood what a military order as firm as a mountain meant. ƒгeewebnovёl_com

In peacetime, slacking off would only be turned a blind eye by the superiors. Once in a state of war, slacking off would only lead to death.

Under the company commander’s urging, the entire company of soldiers spent about 10 minutes organizing their marching equipment to assemble.

Soldiers from four regiments assembled based on companies in an open space outside the Temple Suburb.

Under the attention of the soldiers from the four regiments, Brigadier General of the Second Brigade of the First Division of Paris and newly appointed Deputy Commander of the Paris Guard, Brigadier General Conrobel, and his brigade chief of staff (who enjoyed the benefits of the Military Secretariat’s Staff Department, Conrobel set up a brigade chief of staff in the Second Brigade, but the chief of staff did not hold a specific military rank and served as a deputy.) appeared together in front of all the soldiers.

At the same time, battle missions were also handed out in the form of notes to the eight battalion commanders under the two regiments.

Each battalion commander showed surprised expressions upon receiving the missions and the Ministry of War’s stamp. They had already heard about the battle between the President and those damned vermin.

They didn’t expect the President to summon them for pest extermination so quickly.

It seems there will be a large extra income today.

"Your mission is very simple!"

Looking at this dense group of soldiers, Conrobel said in a calm tone, "Eliminate all the pests in Paris and return a clean Paris to the President!"

"Yes!" The battalion commanders could hardly contain their excitement, and Brigadier General Conrobel’s words had already implied that they could meticulously drain every penny from those vermin hidden in the darkness.

"Long live Bonaparte, long live the Empire!"

For the generous President, the battalion commanders naturally held him in infinite admiration.

Is anyone more caring for the army than the President?

Besides the President, they recognized no one!

"This mission is codenamed Extermination; your task is to crush all the vermin on the list! Do you hear me?"

Brigadier General Conrobel raised his voice, almost shouting.

"Heard it!" Under the leadership of the battalion commanders, the entire army also let out a deafening shout.

"March!"

With Brigadier General Conrobel’s order, this unit of more than 8,000 people began to move toward the city center.

...

As the army entered Paris for extermination, James Rothschild, who was virtually confined to his courtyard by Jerome Bonaparte, became unusually irritable after his confinement.

All signs point to the fact that that damned Jerome Bonaparte is nothing but a rogue who doesn’t abide by financial market rules. With forced market closures and financial controls, his successive administrative directives wreaked havoc on all the operations of the Rothschild Bank.

James Rothschild realized that this fellow absolutely had no intention of contending with him in the financial market. His strategy was entirely "you fight your way, I fight mine"!

Although James Rothschild found this strategy somewhat exasperating, he had to admit it was extremely effective.

As the "Financial Emperor" of Paris, in his confrontation with Jerome Bonaparte, James Rothschild increasingly realized how difficult it was to leverage financial means to sway a stable national regime.

Especially with a highly centralized regime like that of France, all the Parisian administrative personnel devoted themselves to serving Jerome Bonaparte as if attending to their master.

Those officials who were usually on good terms with James Rothschild hurriedly distanced themselves from him upon hearing that he was being targeted by the president, with many deeply involved officials being transferred overnight by Jerome Bonaparte.

The judicial personnel frequently conducted investigations into their estates, under the pretense of addressing procedural issues in the "Rothschild tax investigations".

Not to mention those folks over at the Bank of France. Though seemingly in the same camp, they proved no less harsh than those damned judicial personnel.

Stocks of the Northern Railway Company, under Rothschild, had been plummeting for days. An emerging force of unknown origin was frantically acquiring the stocks James Rothschild was selling off, and contrary to his expectations, the entire exchange was not deteriorating but instead several railway companies were taking advantage of Rothschild’s "bankruptcy" to go public. James Rothschild sensed that these railway companies were very likely backed by this arising power.

During this period of de facto house arrest, this was about all the information James Rothschild could obtain.

In this battle against the president, James Rothschild estimated losses of no less than over 20 million francs, possibly sacrificing two years’ profit for the company.

At this thought, James Rothschild couldn’t help but feel regret.

Had he known it would come to this, he might as well have agreed to the president’s terms.

Currently, James Rothschild was no longer concerned about winning or losing, but rather how to end the war with the president gracefully.

He had to make the president understand that the Rothschild Clan, even in defeat, was defeated by the entire administrative power of France.

Only in doing so could he ensure the Rothschild Clan’s transcendent status in the French financial hierarchy.

Now, James Rothschild no longer pinned hope on standing against the entire French administrative power alone, instead hoping branches in Vienna, Frankfurt, and even London could lend a helping hand.

Of course, this didn’t imply James Rothschild was inactive. He had been secretly liaising with some Republican faction conspirators and gang members.

These Republican faction conspirators were largely purged from the army after Minister Reniao took office. Harboring aversion towards Minister Reniao and General Saint Arno, they formed a small group under the guise of a gang, preparing to conduct assassinations to restore peace in France.

After Jerome Bonaparte had a falling out with James Rothschild, they secretly "approached" James Rothschild, both sides hitting it off immediately with James Rothschild funding them while they were responsible for the assassination, aiming to remove the French "tyrant" Jerome Bonaparte.

However, James Rothschild didn’t believe they possessed the capability to eliminate Jerome Bonaparte; he only needed Paris to be in a state of fear and uncertainty.

Even though it was already 2 AM on the second day, James Rothschild was not resting, anxiously waiting by the window for the servant’s news.

The door to the room was knocked from outside, prompting James Rothschild to quickly turn around and say, "Come in!"

A servant hurriedly rushed in and notified James Rothschild, "Sir, something terrible has happened!"

A sense of foreboding surged into James Rothschild’s mind, a terrifying suspicion making his hands and feet cold.

Could it be... could it really be! They actually dared to do this!

James Rothschild, with a trembling voice, inquired of the servant, "What has happened! Speak!"

"Just now... just now, as I followed your orders to go to the Orleans Gang, I heard intense gunfire coming from there!" The servant, panting heavily, replied with a quivering voice, "Sir, you know it! I once served a tour in Algeria; no one knows that gunfire better than I do!"

"What is it! Speak quickly!" Although James Rothschild already had an idea of what the servant was about to say, he still hoped to hear words differing from his speculation.

"Troops... troops have entered the city! Such dense gunfire could only come from such military firepower!" The servant shattered James Rothschild’s last glimmer of optimistic hope.

"I knew it! I knew it! That guy wouldn’t fight us fairly! He’s showing off to me!"

James Rothschild wore a bitter smile.

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