Playing with Fire (1)

　By the time the militia besieging the Bastille came to their senses, the Bastille's defenders, however, had also recovered. The big explosion just now had scared them. But because of that, they counterattacked even more vigorously. As a result, in the period of time since then, the militia side had added quite a few more casualties.

　　Just then, a cheer came from the back of the militia side.

　　"The artillery is coming! The real artillery is coming!"

　　It turned out that at this time, the group of National Self-Defense Forces that Marquis Lafayette had prepared had finally arrived.

　　The arrival of this group of national self-defense forces completely changed the situation. The big explosion just now, although it had brought significant casualties to the militia, had also caused considerable damage to the walls of the Bastille. Now, I'm afraid that the wall, which wasn't much stronger to begin with, is even less able to hold back the shells.

　　But when the men of the National Guard dragged the cannons over, de Lornay didn't panic too much. Because what level the militia's artillery was at, he had just seen it - at such a long distance, they couldn't hit anything but the earth.

　　But as soon as the artillery over there opened fire, de Lornay knew he was in trouble, because the first shell hit the base of the city wall with precision.

　　As the shells hit the walls, a puff of dust and dirt rose up from the walls, but luckily the walls hadn't collapsed yet.

　　"It really hit? They got lucky?" De Lone's eyes widened.

　　Yes, until now, de Lonay still attributed this successful shelling by the National Guard to luck. But soon, he changed his mind, because the cannon on the opposite side, in a very short time, fired another shell and hit again. This cannon also caused the bravado to thin out and crumble a little.

　　"Quickly, raise the white flag! We surrender!" De Lornay shouted. Obviously, whoever was firing at them now was not a so-called "militia", and whoever could fire again in such a short time, and could hit so accurately, was not a militia, this was a properly trained artillery!

　　The state of the walls today could not withstand a few more barrages. De Lornay only had to look at the crack that ran the length of the wall to fit a fist. After a few more shellings, the wall would definitely collapse, and then the tens of thousands of "mobs" from outside would rush in, and the hundred or so people inside would definitely not be able to stop them. If we didn't surrender before they rushed in, we would all be dead by then.

　　So the white flag was raised, the gates were opened, and the soldiers threw their rifles down from the walls. There was a cheer from the militia all around.

　　A large body of militia rushed through the open gates, took out the negotiators (who, in fact, had not been persecuted at all), and dragged out the "king's lackeys". They tied them all up and prepared to take them to the town hall for trial.

　　But the procession had only gone a few hundred meters when more people gathered around. These people loudly cursed those "tyrant's lackeys", including de Lonay. One of the cooks was particularly vicious.

　　De Lonay had never been insulted by such a pariah, so he immediately cursed back.

　　"You damned pariah, lowly worm, you actually dare to speak out against a noble like that! One day, all of you thugs, all of you will be punished! His Majesty the King will hang you all on a streetlight pole like a dog!"

　　De Lornay apparently forgot what kind of situation he was in now, he still thought that as a nobleman, he would be treated favorably even if he was captured. His words immediately enraged the surrounding "pariahs", and the cook even pulled out his kitchen knife.

　　"You damned parasite!" The chef roared, "You've killed so many people, and you still want to continue riding on the heads of the people? You want to keep slaughtering the people? To hang us from streetlights? I'll hang your head first today!"

　　After saying that the cook raised his knife and lunged. De Lonay's hands were tied up, so he couldn't resist at all, he dodged and dodged while asking for help from the militia escorting him nearby. But the militiamen paid no attention at all, and instead stepped back to give the cook room to work.

　　That cook grabbed de Lornay by the hair and pulled him down hard to the ground.

　　"You can't do this, I'm a nobleman, I ..." de Lornay shouted. But his voice immediately stopped as the cook stomped on his chest with one foot, so hard that he couldn't breathe.

　　"Save ..."

　　"Kill this bad thing!"

　　"Kill him!"

　　The people around him roared.

　　That chef grabbed de Lornay's hair with one hand and raised his kitchen knife with one hand ...

　　Obviously, this cook's knife work was good, although he was holding only a small knife, he still quickly cut off de Lonay's head. A militiaman with a spear came over and said, "Stick his head on the spear, so that everyone can see what happens to the tyrant's lackeys!"

　　Everyone listened all over and shouted together. This militiaman then stuck de Lornay's head on his own spear and held it high in the air ...

　　"Let's go around the city of Paris two more times and show everyone what happens to the tyrant's lackeys!" The people shouted.

　　"And these guys, just as much the tyrant's lackeys, they can't be spared!" Someone shouted again, pointing at the other captives.

　　In the original history, after the Bastille was captured, the other surrendered defenders were not killed, except for the warden, de Lornay, who was killed. But this time, because of that botched blast, the militia's casualties were much greater than in history, with more than three hundred killed in the big explosion alone, while in the original history, there were only a hundred or so dead or wounded militiamen.

　　The greater casualties brought more fear, and more anger and rage. So dozens more captured soldiers were killed, most of them Swiss who were working as mercenaries. For it was believed that they had come to Paris to slaughter and plunder the people of Paris.

　　The heads of these Swiss were also cut off on the spot and stuck on pikes.

　　Ensign Yuran, former second lieutenant of artillery and now commander of the National Self-Defense Army's artillery company, looked on coldly at all this, neither participating in it nor preventing it.

　　"There's another guy who deserves to die too!" Another man shouted.

　　"Who?" People asked.

　　"Fleischer! He gave us false information, he said there was a large amount of gunpowder in Bastille. Yet there is actually so little gunpowder in Bastille! He must be the king's lackey, he must be plotting something by drawing us to Bastille!" Someone shouted.

　　"Then let's go kill him!" More people shouted.

　　"He also told us last time that there were tons of weapons over on Rue Richelieu, and it turns out there's nothing there either. He must have a problem!"

　　"Kill him, kill him!"

　　Flessel was the mayor of Paris. Noble by birth, some say he was close to the Comte d'Artois (brother of Louis XVI, one of the ultra-conservatives). Of course, there was no basis for this rumor. It was just a rumor that everyone was inclined to believe at this point in time.

　　Ensign Yuran and the others continued to look on coldly from the sidelines. Anyway, Flessel was not a friend of the Marquis de Lafayette, and such a person controlling the Paris City Hall was not necessarily a good thing - at least for the Marquis de Lafayette, who was preparing to consolidate his power in Paris.

　　...

　　"What are these people doing?" Lucien looked in dismay at the militiamen marching outside the barricades with their spears held high. On the spears in their hands were wearing individual heads.

　　"They are venting their fear with terror." Joseph covered Louis' eyes with one hand to prevent him from looking at those horrible things, while saying to Lucien.

　　"Venting their fears with terror?" Lucien didn't understand what Joseph meant.

　　"Lucien, think about it. Where did those recent horrible rumors most likely come from? Are they really coming from the condomless pantywaist who can't even write his own name?" Instead of answering, Joseph asked this.

　　"How is that possible?" Lucien shook his head, "Those rumors are alive and well and involve a lot of things that are simply beyond the knowledge of those condomless pants hans. There are a lot of them that can only even be made up by people who are very familiar with various insiders."

　　"And you look at the rumors, what are they all saying? What kind of sentiments are they all spreading?" Joseph asked again.

　　"Nothing more than that the king is coming with mercenaries to bloodbath Paris or something like that." Lucien shook his head, "That's a terrible thing to say, but Paris is such an important place for France that bloodshed in Paris? That's just scaremongering. What is France in Europe without Paris?"

　　"But the trouserless men don't know that. They all thought it was real. Their hearts are filled with fear and anger. They were afraid of being massacred and looted, and they were angry at the same time that they were innocent of having to suffer such a fate." Joseph said, "This fear and anger then gave them the power to act. Some felt that they could channel, control such power and could use it for their purposes. Oh ..."

　　"What are you laughing at?" Lucien asked.

　　"I laugh at the fact that some people are playing with fire." Joseph said, "Using rumors, making people fearful, and then using that fear to drive others is indeed very inexpensive, though in terms of cost. But the forces that arise from fear and anger are irrational forces. Irrational power is difficult to control; it's like Mr. Lavoisier's nitroglycerine; if you're not careful, if you don't control it properly, boom, you can blow yourself to pieces."

　　"So what do we do?" Lucien asked.

　　"Look and think more." Joseph replied.