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The Fox of France

A naturally timid engineering student found himself transported to France before the grand revolution, only to become the older brother of the future Emperor Napoleon for some inexplicable reason. Now, he faced a crucial decision: would he seize this opportunity to create his own remarkable destiny or merely cling to this lifeline and drift along? Support me: https://www.patreon.com/NeverluckySMILE DISCLAIMER The story belongs entirely to the original author.

NeverluckySMILE · Outros
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224 Chs

Chapter 106: Toulon 4

 Robespierre and Couthon couldn't convince Carnot, but at least they managed to get him to agree to send observers to the research institute. (Carnot referred to the residential area of the institute as a "military prison.") As for the test area...

"I'm sorry, but many of the experiments conducted in the test area are strict military secrets that require strict confidentiality. I'm not doubting the loyalty of the observers, but the fewer people who know the details of some things, the better. In fact, even I only know the purpose of the research and the general progress. As for some technical details – you know, I'm not incapable of understanding them, nor am I uninterested – but I'll also try to avoid knowing too many technical details. Because these things, if I see them, I might unintentionally leak them, which could lead to significant losses for the army," Carnot said.

"Even you don't know some details, so there must be someone who understands the entire research relatively well," Robespierre asked.

"Joseph Bonaparte is responsible for the entire process. He's a very reliable soldier. For the sake of secrecy, he voluntarily put himself in a semi-imprisoned state. He can't leave the test area casually, and if he does, he must inform me of his whereabouts and have security personnel accompany him. If it weren't for his deep love for the homeland and belief in the revolution, no one could endure such conditions," Carnot replied.

"Joseph... That's really not easy," Robespierre sighed. In reality, Robespierre had a favorable impression of Joseph, at least better than Carnot. Sometimes he even thought that if Joseph could replace Carnot, that wouldn't be bad. But that was just a thought because Joseph Bonaparte had a brother who led troops into battle. So, in any case, he couldn't take Carnot's position.

Everyone admitted that besides Joseph, there was no one else who could replace Carnot's role, and even Joseph might not be able to do so. Therefore, Robespierre could only tolerate some of Carnot's offenses, as long as they weren't too outrageous. As for what would be considered too outrageous, Robespierre hadn't had time to think about it yet.

Today was the first day for Observer Charles to enter the heavily guarded "Military Technology Laboratory." He arrived at the War Department early in the morning. In a small room, he underwent strict measurements and records, including palm prints and other physical characteristics. An artist even painted a frontal portrait of him for some reason. Charles felt that the portrait made him look like a corpse.

"Because it emphasizes that the person in the portrait should not have any expression," the artist explained.

After the portrait was finished, it was already noon. Charles, accompanied by a group of cavalry, boarded a four-wheeled carriage headed for Versailles.

It took about four hours to travel from the War Department to Versailles. So when they arrived at the "Military Technology Laboratory," the sun was already setting.

The military had dug a deep trench in the area where the laboratory was located. Along the trench, guard towers were built at intervals. In some more remote places, there was even a four-meter high wall. So, from the outside, nothing inside could be seen – it was a highly guarded appearance.

The carriage stopped in front of a drawbridge. An officer approached, checked their passes, and said to Charles inside the carriage, "According to the orders, only observers are allowed to enter. Others and the carriage cannot cross the trench. So, you must get off the carriage and enter the laboratory on foot."

Charles already knew this when he departed. So he nodded and said, "Please lead the way." He got off the carriage, and a soldier from inside followed, helping him with his luggage.

Charles followed the officer into the laboratory. As they walked, the officer said to him, "Mr. Observer, you are allowed to move in the employee living area and the prisoner living area. In the employee area, you have 24 hours of free movement. In the prisoner area, you must inform the guards of your activities in advance to avoid misunderstandings. You know, the security here is extremely tight, and any unauthorized activities that are unknown to the guards could result in gunfire without warning."

"I understand," Charles said. He already knew this rule, but in the current situation, seeing all the guard towers and heavily armed guards made him nervous.

"Boom!" A loud explosion was heard in the distance.

"What is that?" Charles couldn't help but ask.

"Mr. Observer, everything about the experiments is classified, and nothing about the test area should be questioned. Whatever you hear or see, you can't mention it to anyone," the officer replied, emphasizing the confidentiality once again.

At this point, a few people arrived at the gate, and when Charles looked inside from the entrance, all he saw was a narrow alley with high walls on both sides; nothing else was visible.

The officer and the gatekeepers exchanged a few words, and the gate opened. Then, a few people walked in, and the sound of the iron gate being closed and locked was heard.

A thought suddenly popped into Charles' head: "Who's in prison here?"

...

On the Toulon front, Popham was plunged into great anxiety. These days, he had launched attacks on Toulon, but the results were quite poor. The British, though not very interested in moving north, were very serious about holding the port of Toulon. As long as Toulon remained in their hands, the French navy had no foothold in the Mediterranean, giving them free rein in North Africa.

Therefore, the British quickly reinforced various defense works in Toulon, and they even dismantled the cannons from the captured French warships to bolster their defenses. Popham's soldiers were brave, but the crafty British hiding behind fortifications proved formidable. His initial attacks resulted in heavy casualties and no progress.

Incensed, Popham decided to concentrate his forces for a final assault to break into Toulon and show the invaders and traitors the might of France.

However, what they didn't anticipate was that the British had set up an ambush with artillery. They had predicted Popham's direction of attack and buried a large number of cannons in a manner reminiscent of Valmy. The difference was that they had more cannons and heavier firepower. What was even more deadly was that their cannons were not just in the front but also on the flanks, creating a crossfire.

They first baited the French into this predetermined battlefield with a tactical retreat. When Popham saw that he was making progress, he eagerly committed his main forces to the attack. The result? A torrent of artillery fire from the British, followed by a bayonet charge by the British and Spanish. The French were forced to retreat all the way back to their starting point. If the British hadn't been overly conservative, using too few troops for the counterattack, Popham might not have been able to hold his own camp.

After this disastrous failure, Popham tallied his losses. He found that in the past few days, he had suffered nearly three thousand casualties, and the morale of the entire army had hit rock bottom. He knew that with such a resounding failure, he was in danger of being labeled a traitor to his homeland.

However, at this point, he had no other options but to request "tactical guidance" from the higher-ups. (Tactical guidance is a term from the Japanese military, similar to reinforcements.)

...

At the same time, while Popham was writing a letter requesting "tactical guidance," Lucien and his group had finally landed on Corsica.

Their journey had gone relatively smoothly, as the weather in the Mediterranean had been good in recent days. However, upon landing, they realized that they had veered off course quite a bit. They hadn't landed near Calvi as planned but had ended up farther south in Galeria. It took them an extra day to reach Calvi.

Corsica was a relatively closed-off place, and the sudden arrival of outsiders could easily attract attention. Following Lucien's guidance, they sailed into a secluded harbor to hide. Most of the crew stayed on the ship, while only Chrysler and Lucien slipped into Calvi after dark.

Lucien hadn't returned to Calvi in several years, but that didn't cause him any problems. Compared to Paris, Calvi seemed frozen in time, unchanged since Lucien had left. In the dark, Lucien and Chrysler moved through the streets they knew so well, making their way to Lucien's home.

Knock, knock. Lucien gently rapped on the door, knowing that his mother likely hadn't gone to sleep yet.

Upon hearing the knock, the house first rang with a couple of aggressive barks from a dog, but quickly, the fierce barking turned into friendly, eager whimpers. Then, footsteps were heard, and a woman's voice asked, "Who is it?"

"Mom, it's me, I'm Lucien!" Lucien pressed his mouth against the door and spoke softly.

The door opened, and Letizia, who had aged a bit more, appeared with an oil lamp in hand.