"You are the true leader of the French Revolution!" the middle-aged man flattered with all his might. "While those cowards cower under the tyrant's oppressive power, you alone continue to bravely fight for the people of France."
"This is my lifelong mission!" A look of pride and arrogance flashed across Saint-Just's face. He wasn't much interested in money or beauty, but he greatly enjoyed the praise of others.
The middle-aged man subtly took out a bundle of banknotes from the French Treasury and handed them to him discreetly, whispering, "This is your operating fund."
These banknotes had been collected by the Southern Netherlands Parliant from local farrs, who weren't particularly fond of the lightweight paper currency, but the French seed eager to accept it.
Saint-Just imdiately pushed the money back. "All operational funds should be managed by the 'Club' collectively. I can't accept this privately."
He gestured for the middle-aged man to join him in the carriage, his expression turning serious. "More important than funds—where are the muskets that the committee promised?
"You know those vultures in Versailles who prey on the French people won't go down without a fight. We need guns, and preferably cannons, to completely crush them so that the French people can truly be free!"
The "committee" he ntioned was the group sent by the Southern Netherlands Parliant to incite revolution in France. The middle-aged man before him was one of the committee's seven core mbers, nad Jeskut, who was responsible for liaising with key figures in the French liberal movent, like Saint-Just.
The entire committee had over 210 mbers operating within France. To turn the tide in the stalemate at the Brussels front, Vandernoot had invested heavily—not just in personnel but also by collaborating with the Dutch to provide over 800,000 livres in funds and thousands of flintlock muskets.
Jeskut nodded vigorously. "You're absolutely right! We must crush the tyrant and his minions!
"Rest assured, the first batch of 1,000 muskets has already passed through Cambrai and should reach Reims the day after tomorrow. The rest will be delivered by the end of the month."
A fiery light flashed in Saint-Just's eyes, and he quickly began discussing the detailed plans for the uprising with Jeskut.
When the carriage stopped in Zesfeld Village, farrs quickly gathered from the fields, drawn by the arrival of the two n.
Other revolutionaries from the "Club" had already made arrangents here, including secret propaganda and defenses against rural patrols. They were just waiting for Saint-Just to give a speech.
As he excitedly observed the gathering crowd, a thought struck him, and he turned to Jeskut, his voice serious. "I've always had a question, Monsieur Jeskut. How did you get the details of Versailles' land redemption plan?"
Jeskut hesitated slightly but quickly forced a smile. "You know, we've been operating in France for many years. Naturally, we have our own channels."
"Is the information reliable? I don't want the people to think I'm deceiving them."
"We've been revolutionary partners for years—you can trust !" Jeskut said confidently. In reality, the harsh redemption plan that Saint-Just ntioned in his speech was fabricated by the British and passed on to Vandernoot.
...
Versailles Palace.
In a salon with over a hundred participants, most of the nobles were uninterested in the topic of the gathering. Instead, they huddled in small groups, whispering about the current state of the country.
"Have you heard the news? Farrs in Reims and Lille have driven out their local officials and even attacked the town halls!"
"Although the newspapers haven't covered it much, it's already causing an uproar. I've heard that protests have erupted in more than a dozen cities."
Several nobles who weren't in the loop were shocked and asked, "What are those lowly people trying to do?"
"It seems they're unhappy with the land redemption plan and are using this to pressure the governnt."
"Those greedy bastards! His Majesty has already agreed to let them own land, sothing that's never been granted since the creation of the world. And they only need to pay a small redemption fee. How can they still not be satisfied?"
A fifty-sothing nobleman with a bloated figure said viciously, "Exactly! Our rights have been taken away, all the benefits have been given to those lowly people, and instead of being grateful, they're causing trouble? If you ask , we should hang all the troublemakers and not give them a single acre!"
"Absolutely! Rents are the king's reward to us nobles; they should never have been abolished!"
A young nobleman who had been silent until now saw that the mont was right and interjected, "I suggest you accept the reality. His Majesty, in order to appease the protesting farrs, has already instructed the cabinet to issue a new decree, reducing the redemption period to five years."
The surrounding nobles imdiately began to shout in alarm, "That's the land His Majesty granted us—after five years, we won't get a single penny?"
"How can that be? My son's tuition, my daughter's dowry, all depend on that land..."
"Don't talk about tuition and dowries—after five years, we might be begging for food!"
Although most of these old nobles had other sources of inco, feudal rents were a significant part of their wealth.
They had initially thought the governnt would make the peasants redeem their rent for at least twenty or thirty years, giving them ti to plan other sources of inco. But if it was only five years, their standard of living would plumt.
Not to ntion those who relied entirely on feudal rents. If the rents disappeared, they really would have to beg.
Soone, agitated, raised his fist and called out, "Let's petition Her Majesty the Queen!"
"Yes! We can't let those lowly people get the land so easily!"
But the young nobleman stopped them, speaking quietly. "His Majesty has likely already made his decision. Don't forget—when we petitioned to stop the abolition of noble privileges last ti, it didn't do any good."
"Then what do you suggest we do?"
"We need to defend the town halls in Lille and Reims ourselves, using our swords to teach those greedy peasants a lesson! Who's brave enough to join ?"
...
Second floor of the Tuileries Palace.
In the office of the Industrial Planning Bureau, Fouché sat with his head bowed deeply, his voice low. "Your Highness, this incident is entirely my fault for not handling things properly. I will accept any punishnt without complaint."
Joseph sighed, motioning for him to sit down. "When protests break out in more than ten cities on the sa day, it's clear that this was preditated. You shouldn't be too hard on yourself."
As he spoke, Émond knocked and entered, followed by a palace official who bowed to Joseph. "Your Highness, Her Majesty the Queen requests your imdiate return to Versailles for an ergency cabinet eting."
Joseph nodded and stood up. "Is it about the peasant unrest?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
(End of Chapter)
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