Chapter 251: The Boomerang of the Assembly of Notables
"What nonsense are you spouting?" The butler of Duke de Durfort's estate looked at the scar-faced man with an arrogant expression. "The Duke has never heard of any reserve grain! This is the Duke's land, and you'd best leave before the army comes to arrest you all!"
The Police Bureau agent standing nearby immediately turned to the crowd and shouted, "Did you hear that? They're guilty and trying to scare us with threats of the army!"
The over thousand-strong crowd of demonstrators erupted in angry shouts:
"This noble's lapdog, let's beat him up!"
"Don't waste time talking, let's go in and get our grain back!"
"Let's rush in!"
The butler was startled by the intensity of the crowd's response. He only had ten guns; if these rioters surged forward, the estate's guards wouldn't be able to hold them back.
He hid his trembling hands behind his back and shouted, trying to sound authoritative, "You're threatening a noble, and that's a serious crime!"
A gang member hidden in the crowd threw a clod of dirt at the butler, shouting, "The real criminals are the ones who stole our grain!"
The crowd, taking the hint, started throwing stones and trash, almost burying the butler and the few guards at the estate's entrance.
The butler retreated inside the gate, frightened, and nervously ordered the guards, "Grab your guns! Shoot anyone who takes another step forward!"
The Police Bureau agent signaled the crowd to stop their attack and then calmly addressed the butler, "Look, everyone says it was the Duke who took the reserve grain. If you let us in to check the estate, we might be able to clear the Duke's name."
The scar-faced man and his gang chimed in, "Yeah! Let us in to check!"
"Prove you're innocent!"
According to the "boss's" orders, anyone who got inside the estate would earn a bonus of 20 livres.
The butler saw that some rioters were already preparing to climb over the walls. After hesitating for a moment, he reluctantly nodded, "Fine, go ahead and look, but I've already told you, there's no reserve grain here. But only three people can come in."
The scar-faced man immediately shouted, "No way! This estate is huge; three people can't check it properly. We need at least twenty!"
"Yeah, if only three go in, they'll just be bribed!"
"Thirty people, minimum! I'm going to check too!"
Under the crowd's pressure, the butler was forced to lead a group of twenty people, including the scar-faced man and the Police Bureau agent, into the estate.
The Police Bureau agent pretended to search a few cellars and soon confirmed the location of a furnace used for burning trash. He subtly signaled the scar-faced man.
The scar-faced man followed the "script," running over to the furnace, where he found a piece of charred cloth hidden among the weeds. He shouted, "Isn't this a sack from the reserve grain warehouse?"
The people who had entered the estate quickly gathered around. Seeing the half-burned sack, they could no longer hold back their anger:
"They really did steal the reserve grain!"
"This is the proof!"
"These damned liars, and they said there wasn't any!"
The scar-faced man hurried back to the estate's entrance and threw the "evidence" to the waiting crowd, shouting, "Look what we found!"
Of course, the Police Bureau agent had planted this item in the estate the previous night. There were two more similar "pieces of evidence" hidden around.
The scar-faced man waved to the crowd, "What are we waiting for? Let's get our grain back!"
His gang members quickly surged forward, pushing the guards aside—this was a move they'd learned from spies working for the Duke of Orléans.
The furious demonstrators, eyes bloodshot, roared as they stormed into the estate.
Everyone inside the estate was terrified, cowering in corners, too scared to stop them.
The scar-faced man led the crowd to a cellar, where they smashed open the door and pointed inside, "Our grain is in here!"
Similar scenes played out all over the estate. Within no time, the thousand-strong crowd had found tens of thousands of bushels of grain in the estate's cellars and storehouses, and naturally assumed it was all stolen reserve grain.
Soon, someone else found more evidence, like a half-torn warehouse receipt, further confirming that Duke de Durfort had indeed stolen the grain.
An old man, seeing the mountain of grain before him, covered his face and wept bitterly, "If we'd had this grain, my wife wouldn't have starved to death..."
Others were quickly reminded of their own painful losses and began cursing Duke de Durfort loudly.
The scar-faced man continued his work, pointing to the luxurious mansion at the center of the estate, "All that stuff was bought with the money from selling our grain! We have the right to take it back!"
Immediately, someone shouted in agreement, "Yeah! My sister's death deserves compensation!"
"And my father!"
"And my twin sons!"
The mob swarmed into the mansion, stripping it of everything valuable or not in a matter of moments. They even tore down doors, windows, and the roof. Anything they could take, they took; anything they couldn't, they smashed.
It wasn't until dusk that the avengers finally began leaving the estate.
Even though the army stationed in Nice received a dozen calls for help from the estate, they didn't send a single soldier. All the officers ranked captain and above were in Versailles, meeting with the King, and the lower-ranking officers didn't dare to mobilize hundreds of soldiers on their own. Besides, they had also heard that Duke de Durfort had stolen the reserve grain, and many of them had lost relatives in the famine. If not for military discipline, some of them might have wanted to join in the looting.
The next day, the enraged crowd returned to Duke de Durfort's estate, only to find a scar-faced man shouting loudly:
"The Duke has another villa in Villefort! We can't let him get away with this!"
The crowd responded with roaring approval:
"That's right! Let's go to Villefort!"
"Avenge our loved ones!"
"This devil must pay!"
Even more protesters than the day before began marching towards Villefort...
The rage-fueled riots spread across the entire western and southern regions of France. Similar events to those in Nice were happening everywhere.
In Montauban, the Duke de Mouchy's three villas were all burned to the ground by angry citizens...
In Auch, after smashing up the Duke de Brissac's mansion, people shaved the heads of everyone there, men and women alike, in an act of spite...
The worst fate befell nobles like Count de Deymes and Duke de Nové, who had returned to their southern estates to escape the cold. They were caught by the mob and beaten to death in their own homes. Some even had their entire families wiped out by the furious crowds...
These high-ranking members of the Assembly of Notables probably never imagined that the famine victims they had so carefully engineered would one day turn into a "beast" that would come back to devour them all!
Brittany Province, Northern Armor.
Fouché's eyes were filled with excitement and madness as he stared out the carriage window at the bare tree trunks, muttering to himself:
"You better not have run off... Yes, stay right there, waiting for me..."
Half an hour later, the carriage stopped in front of a small house on the northern outskirts of Armor.
The Police Bureau officer in charge of the area hurriedly opened the door and heard Fouché's impatient voice:
"Is he still there?"
The officer leaned closer and whispered, "Yes, sir. The Duke of Orléans has been staying at that estate for the past few days..."
(End of Chapter)
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