As the Northern Army marched south from Bastia, southern Corsica
The town of Figari, as the central town in the southern alluvial plain, is the most important agricultural town in Corsica.
Although the Corsican government has established administrative agencies here since the beginning of independence, local farmers know that those weak officials have no say in this plain.
For the poor people who farmed and worked on this fertile land, there was only one cloud above their heads, and that was Master Justin, known as the "Little Duke".
After several generations and decades of land annexation, Mr. Justin has become the largest landowner in this town and even within a hundred miles.
Whether it is land, grain, shops or tenant farmers, almost half of the wealth in the entire town of Figari is the private property of Master Justin's family; even more than half of the people in the local department's public officials are close relatives of Master Justin.
Therefore, it is very easy to find the residence of such a powerful landowner in the town of Figari - the three-story stone house in the center of the town that is almost higher than the town hall.
"Come on, friends, I'll give you another drink!"
In the banquet room of the residence, Mr. Justin, who was flushed with drunkenness, held up the crystal glass and shouted intoxicatedly to the guests on both sides of the dining table.
The guests sitting here are not ordinary people. Most of them are wearing silk short robes with exposed arms, and many of them are wearing at least one piece of pure gold jewelry.
Obviously, those gentlemen who claim to be of the upper class would not wear such unfashionable clothes. Only the rural landowners would be keen to show off their wealth with such direct clothes.
"We respect you, Master Justin!"
The guests held up their wine glasses in perfect agreement and saluted Justin at the front of the long table in unison.
Although all the people present here are big landowners from the southern plains, Master Justin has naturally won everyone's superficial respect by virtue of his unparalleled wealth and power.
Enjoying the obedience and support of everyone, Mr. Justin was also in a good mood. He raised his head and drank the brandy in the glass in one gulp. Then he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, propped up his chin and joked:
"This wine is really good... Let me tell you, that Bonaparte boy did a good thing. It was not easy to drink such good French wine in the past."
Since the Genoese navy lifted its blockade on Corsica, trade on the island has gradually returned to normal and has even become more prosperous.
Otherwise, it would not be easy for these landowners to drink authentic French brandy.
Hearing Mr. Justin's joke, someone at the table immediately responded with a smile:
"That Bonaparte is really good. After a trip to Paris, he brought everyone more silver coins than they could spend in a few lifetimes."
A burst of cheerful laughter suddenly sounded in the banquet room.
After all, in the eyes of the gentlemen, the money of the National Silver Company is the money of the Republic of Corsica, and the money of the Republic of Corsica is in the pockets of people like them who hold most of the country in their hands.
Master Justin couldn't help but lick his lips. That was eighteen million livres, which was more than ten times more than his entire assets.
It can be said that from the moment he heard the news, Mr. Justin has been eyeing this huge sum of money.
This is why he brought together the big landowners from the entire southern plains in order to unite and prepare to put pressure on the Corsican government to carve up this tempting cake.
At this time, a cautious landowner frowned, played with the wine glass in his hand and said:
"But... what if that Bonaparte is not willing to share the money... We will take six million livres from him at once. Isn't it going to be easy?"
Faced with the doubt, Mr. Justin just smiled indifferently, the contempt between his eyebrows was palpable.
"No distinction? That boy Bonaparte doesn't look like a fool, huh."
Master Justin chuckled and said:
"He thinks he can do whatever he wants after becoming the Governor? What a joke! When we followed Governor Paoli to fight against the Genoese, he was still nursing in the stroller! We are the real masters of Corsica. When the Genoese were here
It was like this, it was like this when Governor Paoli was here, and it is still like this when Laurence Bonaparte is here!"
Justin's impassioned speech immediately aroused a burst of cheers from the landowners, and the fierce applause lasted for more than a minute before stopping.
Everyone's face was filled with a confident smile, and Master Justin's words also reminded them. Even though that Bonaparte boy was very majestic sitting in the Governor's Palace, more than half of this country's manpower, land, and wealth
, but it’s all in their hands.
If Ajaccio really dares to push the landlord group into a hurry, then the end result will be just another group of people in the Governor's Palace.
Everyone's worries were swept away, and they continued to take their forks and wine glasses and wolf down the long table full of delicacies.
The enjoyable banquet gradually came to an end after more than an hour. Mr. Justin touched his round belly and burped.
The other gentlemen had almost finished their meal, and some particular landowners even pretended to take out their silver toothpicks and poked them randomly.
Just as the guests were waiting for the host to announce the end of the banquet, the wooden door of the banquet room was suddenly pushed open violently.
Everyone was shocked, and more than a dozen pairs of eyes immediately looked at the door. They didn't know what urgent matter could make this person anxiously break into Master Justin's banquet.
The person who opened the door was a man wearing a three-cornered hat and an old purple-black dress.
Mr. Justin squinted his eyes and looked at the door with slight dissatisfaction, and quickly recognized the man who suddenly broke in as the local municipal official.
This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading! After recognizing the identity of the person, Mr. Justin did not look nervous at all.
Even though the mayor is ostensibly the highest magistrate of the town of Figari, this position has been held by Master Justin's tribe for decades.
Even in terms of seniority, the alderman at the door has to call Mr. Justin a cousin.
Perhaps his only role as alderman is to act as a mouthpiece between Mr. Justin and the Corsican government.
The alderman trotted all the way to Justin's side, bowed down humbly, as if a subordinate was facing his superior, and then said softly:
"I'm sorry that I just barged in, but there is news from Ajaccio."
"Oh? There's finally something happening at the Governor's Mansion? Has our funding request been approved? Hahahaha, not bad."
Mr. Justin raised his eyebrows, laughed twice happily, stretched out his hand and patted the crowd twice to quiet down, and then raised his chin to signal the city official to directly inform everyone of the latest news.
The landlords also smiled understandingly, thinking that the Bonaparte boy had succumbed to the power of the landlords so easily.
The mayor's face was pale, and he seemed to be very embarrassed. Finally, under the force of Master Justin's eyes, he reluctantly said loudly:
"Sir, your appropriation request has not been approved by the Ministry of Finance... Moreover, it seems that Governor Bonaparte is going to take action against you."
Master Justin couldn't help being startled when he heard the words. He thought that the mayor brought a wonderful news that would make everyone continue to laugh, but he didn't expect that his ears only heard a series of incredible words.
"What did you say?! Make it clear!" Mr. Justin sobered up from his drunkenness in an instant. He stood up and stared at the mayor in front of him and asked.
The landlords present looked even more nervous and subconsciously leaned towards the two people talking.
The city official gritted his teeth, quickly sorted out his words, and slowly explained:
"Your funding request was directly rejected by the Ministry of Finance, and the Ministry of Finance also introduced a new bill... They will print a batch of non-redeemable banknotes and prepare to use this batch of banknotes to redeem your name.
The land under our control... There can be no doubt that this was at the behest of Governor Bonaparte."
Although the mayor's explanation was easy enough to understand, the gentlemen present could not help but froze on the spot.
None of them had studied economics, but their common sense in life over the years told them that the Bonaparte boy was going to buy their most valued and precious land assets with a pile of waste paper.
"Are you saying that the Bonaparte boy is not only unwilling to allocate funds, but also wants to take away the land that we have inherited for hundreds of years?!"
Master Justin's face suddenly turned red, and he shouted with anger:
"How dare he! Does he want to take away all the heritage of our generations with a pile of waste paper?!"
The gentlemen were also agitated. They were all aroused by the news brought by the alderman. They all slapped the table and shouted loudly:
"It's too much! It's just too much!"
"Damn Bonaparte, does he really think we are a bunch of lambs to be slaughtered?!"
"Master Justin, we must not let this kind of appalling thing happen. I think we must join forces to do something."
...
Everyone exchanged opinions word by word. Although the scene was very noisy, everyone had only one main idea:
The Ministry of Finance's plan must not be allowed to come true, otherwise how can these gentlemen, who grant money and money, continue to live a luxurious life today.
After getting angry, Mr. Justin fell into silence for a while, just listening to everyone's discussion silently.
After almost all the gentlemen had vented their anger, the banquet room became quiet again.
People all looked at Mr. Justin at the end of the long table. As the most powerful landowner, he naturally became the leader in everyone's hearts.
However, facing the expectant eyes of everyone, Mr. Justin rarely showed a confused look, and murmured to himself in a low voice:
"Do you really want to do what the baron said...?"
After talking to himself in confusion for a while, Mr. Justin suddenly gritted his teeth and seemed to have made some determination.
He raised his head and looked at everyone, took a deep breath and said:
"Friends, you are right. We must unite and use all means at our disposal to defend our ancient rights. If the worst happens..."
A cold light flashed in Master Justin's eyes, and he added fiercely:
"I'm afraid we have to take up arms and tell the Bonaparte boy who is in charge of the land of Corsica."
His speech was once again unanimously recognized by the gentlemen. Although there was no applause or cheers, the solemn expressions and slight chins on everyone's faces meant that their ideas were consistent with Mr. Justin's.
At this moment, the city official on the side finally intervened.
He carefully looked around at everyone's expressions, then coughed twice to attract everyone's attention, and said with an embarrassed face:
"Master, you may have to face the worst case scenario..."
Mr. Justin blinked twice quickly, as if he realized something, and frowned: "You mean...Ajaccio has already started to take action...?"
The alderman nodded heavily and continued:
"Just the day before yesterday, you and several other spies sent to Ajaccio by the gentlemen were all controlled by the Governor's Palace. And... they all confessed that you and several gentlemen tried to launch an attack against Governor Bonaparte.
Attack."
"You...what did you say?!"
Master Justin's pupils shrank, and he couldn't believe this reality.
If he had just heard that the Ministry of Finance was trying to take back the land of the landlords, Mr. Justin only thought that Laurence Bonaparte was a tough person.
But now, after hearing that Lawrence had directly accused him of a fatal crime, Master Justin just felt that that damn Bonaparte boy was simply crazy.
Because this means that Lawrence has put the entire landowner group on the absolute opposite side of the Governor's Palace, and there is no longer the possibility of reconciliation negotiations between the two parties.
Either the landowners headed by Sir Justin were hanged by Laurence Bonaparte for attacking the governor, or a new group of people were replaced in the governor's palace in Ajaccio.
Corsica's future will only depend on one of these two outcomes.
"And..." the alderman added worriedly:
"I hear that the Army of the North is already marching on Ajaccio, and that Laurence Bonaparte is already gathering his troops."
"Master Justin! If that's the case..."
Hearing that Lawrence was already gathering troops, several landowners on both sides of the long table couldn't sit still.
They all had spies assigned to Ajaccio, which means they all now have a crime on their heads for attacking the Governor of Corsica. It doesn’t take much to think about it, the muskets of the Corsican Defense Force will soon be
Target yourself.
The landowners who were not charged with Luo Zhi were not much better off. They knew very well that if their colleagues were defeated by Lawrence, they would not end well.
Master Justin, who was once again surrounded by everyone's expectant eyes, couldn't help but take a deep breath, gritted his teeth and said in a cold voice:
"It seems that Bonaparte is also impatient. He actually wants to use force to suppress us. What a fool! His National Defense Forces only have 4,000 people. The total number of serf tenants we can arm is close to 10,000!"
"Having said that, Master Justin." A landowner couldn't help but worriedly questioned:
"Although the manpower in our hands far exceeds that of the National Defense Forces, the equipment needed to arm these people cannot be gathered in a short time, and Bonaparte will never give us enough time."
This landowner's doubts are undoubtedly the voice of many people. Although there are a large number of serfs attached to their names, no landowner usually stores hundreds of muskets and ammunition in his cellar.
When we get to the battlefield, we can't let the farmers wield hoes and sticks to fight with the Wehrmacht soldiers.
However, in the face of this most fatal and critical issue, Mr. Justin just smiled in a secretive manner, cherishing his words like gold and saying:
"No need to worry, friends, all you need to do is return to your manor to recruit manpower. By then, I will provide enough weapons to assemble our army."
After that, Mr. Justin closed his eyes, firmly grasped the armrest of the chair, and seemed to be talking to himself:
"Wait a minute, Bonaparte boy, do you think that after becoming Governor-General, the whole of Corsica will be your back garden? Then you must have never imagined that an army of ten thousand people can be summoned from the ground in your own back garden, huh,
