I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 126: You Can Absolutely Trust My Loyalty

Queen Marie was momentarily taken aback by Joseph's request. A sudden worry crept into her heart. Was her son showing interest in the Two Sicilies princess? After all, Maria was known to be very intelligent, skilled in astronomy and mathematics—perhaps it was these qualities that attracted Joseph.

She forced a smile and nodded slightly. "Of course, my dear. It would be wonderful to show the Princess of the Two Sicilies our warmth and courtesy."

Then, almost as if trying to gauge his interest, she quickly added, "By the way, Clementine will also be arriving in Paris soon. Will you be going to greet her as well?"

Joseph immediately bowed slightly with a smile. "Of course, Mother. How could I not welcome my cousin who has traveled so far?"

He wasn't particularly bothered by the idea of welcoming multiple princesses. In fact, this would help cover up his true intention: using the reception of Maria as a pretext to set a trap for Bessonval.

The Queen finally breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to know her son was merely being courteous and not particularly interested in the Princess of the Two Sicilies. Clementine, you must seize this opportunity and win the Prince's heart!

After bidding farewell to the Queen, Joseph went straight to see the Lord Chamberlain, with whom he discussed in detail the ceremonial arrangements and decorations along the route for welcoming the Princess of the Two Sicilies.

"Hmm, I think the sides of the road here should be adorned with colorful ribbons," Joseph pointed to the map. "Otherwise, the bare trees in winter would look too dull. And these farmhouses—the princess will see them from her carriage—must be properly decorated as well."

"Yes, Your Highness. I will follow your instructions," the Lord Chamberlain quickly took notes.

He understood that the Princess's visit wasn't just for "tourism" but possibly to become the Prince's fiancée. It was no wonder the Prince wanted everything to be grand and elaborate.

After discussing the ceremony with the Lord Chamberlain, Joseph didn't return to Paris but instead went back to the Prince's palace, where he hadn't stayed in quite some time.

As he walked slowly by the row of large arched windows, watching the colorful reflections on the glass, he suddenly turned to the side and asked, "Viscount Cossade, how long have you been my Captain of the Guard? Seven or eight years, right?"

Cossade was taken aback by the sudden question and quickly stepped closer. "Yes, Your Highness. It's been exactly eight years. I had the honor of becoming your bodyguard when you were four, and two years later, the Queen promoted me to Captain."

Joseph turned to face him. "So, in this world, aside from the King and Queen, you're the person I trust the most."

Cossade immediately removed his hat and bowed deeply. "By the grace of God, Your Highness, you can absolutely trust my loyalty."

Joseph nodded and then looked at him seriously. "Jacques, my friend, I'm about to face a challenge that will have a huge impact on me. I desperately need your help."

Cossade straightened up, his voice firm. "Your Highness, I am ready to do anything for you, even give my life!"

...

In the eastern suburbs of Paris, beside a road leading to a nearby town, there was a small hill about ten meters high, sparsely covered with low shrubs.

Amid the bushes, several men wearing greasy, rough-spun coats and equally dirty felt hats, with various weapons tucked into their belts or strapped to their backs, were sitting casually on the ground, chatting idly.

"It'll be dark in less than an hour," grumbled a bald, middle-aged man fiddling with an axe as he looked up at the sky. "Looks like we'll be waiting for nothing again today."

"Even if he doesn't come today, he'll definitely come tomorrow," replied a red-haired man as he rubbed his neck and peered down the hill. "We're talking about thousands of livres. It's worth waiting a few more days."

The man sitting furthest out, with a sharp, menacing gaze, suddenly spoke up. "Colette, if we don't see him within three days, I'm going to smash your butt with the butt of my gun."

The redhead shuddered and quickly forced a smile. "Boss, the whole town's buzzing about it—Baron Gédéon sold his house and all his land to go to Paris and marry that widow.

"Oh, and I saw his servants loading box after box of luggage onto the carriage outside his estate."

The burly man beside him, who had a prosthetic left hand that made him look a bit like Captain Hook, immediately nodded. "That guy even posted a notice in town recruiting bodyguards. It's obvious he's leaving soon."

Before he could finish his sentence, a hurried whisper came from the top of the hill. "Quick! He's here!"

The previously lazy group instantly sprang to their feet. The leader signaled to his men. "Just like we planned—go!"

"Yes, boss."

The group split up and began to surround the road below the hill. Meanwhile, the nearly 200-pound man who had been keeping watch at the top yanked hard on the rope in his hands.

Dozens of large logs, which had been prepared in advance, rumbled down the hill, completely blocking the ten-meter-wide road.

The carriages, which had been moving leisurely along, came to a sudden halt. The two drivers jumped off their seats in fright and fled towards the distant woods.

The leader fired a shot into the air, then led his men to surround the two carriages, shouting gleefully, "Baron Gédéon, we're just some poor folks hoping you'll be generous enough to leave us some silver. If not, we'll have to give you a few cuts and take the money ourselves."

He was about to open the carriage door when a gunshot rang out from behind him.

He felt as if a massive hammer had slammed into his back, sending him crashing into the carriage. The last thing he saw was the red of the carriage, which was actually his own blood.

The remaining bandits were startled and quickly turned around, only to find two pistols sticking out of the carriage, aimed at the backs of Captain Hook and the bald man. At the same time, several armed men emerged from the roadside undergrowth.

From the top of the hill came the sound of the watchman's desperate pleas. The bandits glanced up and saw a man who looked like an ordinary farmer, with a gun in hand, escorting the heavy-set man down.

Before long, aside from their dead leader, the other four bandits had been disarmed and were kneeling, trembling, on the roadside under the watchful eyes of the armed men.

A carriage approached from the distance and stopped beside them. Fouché stepped down from it. He had personally led this mission to lure and capture the bandits by fabricating the story of Baron Gédéon.

Fouché pulled out a pistol, fiddling with it as his cold, dead-fish eyes swept over the bandits. He snorted, "Hmm, the Blood Knife gang, huh?"

The overweight lookout began to cry in fear. "L-let me go! I can tell you where the boss hid the money..."

The bald man glared at him, then stiffened his neck and said, "Yes! We are the Blood Knife gang. If the army caught us, we'd just be out of luck."

In France at that time, everyone assumed only the army could deal with ruthless gangs like the Blood Knife. The police weren't seen as capable enough.

Prosper, who was holding a gun, shook his head with a cold smile. "Who said we're the army?"

"We're with the Lekwé gang," Fouché chimed in. "We've got a big job coming up, so we need some extra hands."

Hearing this, the bandits sighed in relief. It seemed they wouldn't be heading to the gallows after all. They quickly turned to Fouché.

"I'll join you."

"Me too."

"And me..."

But Fouché just sneered. "But I only need two of you. Let's see who's more capable."

With that, he tossed two daggers onto the ground, his eyes gleaming with excitement and madness.

The bald man and the redhead reacted the fastest, lunging for the daggers. Without hesitation, they plunged them into the other two bandits.

The Southern Suburbs of Paris

The trees lining the road leading into the city were draped with colorful ribbons, making them look like beautiful coral formations. In the distance, the scattered farmhouses had been painted in lovely shades of white and gold, resembling treasure chests nestled among the coral.

Along the 40-meter-wide road between the "coral" and "treasure chests," stood French Guards soldiers at attention every five or six meters. This security line stretched from the outskirts all the way into the city of Paris.

For the past two days, the area had been under strict lockdown, and Bessonval had tirelessly led his officers, inspecting this stretch of road—more than four leagues long—again and again. After all, the Princess of the Two Sicilies was due to arrive tomorrow, and according to the arrangements from Versailles, the Prince was also coming to greet her here. Nothing could be allowed to go wrong.

Just then, a group of workers carrying paint and brushes, led by French Guards soldiers, made their way toward a farmhouse on the eastern side.

Bessonval casually asked the officer beside him, "Who are those people?"

The officer quickly replied, "General, they're craftsmen from Versailles Palace. Their documents have been thoroughly checked, and everything is in order. They're always fussing about this or that not being perfect and are constantly adding decorations. If you ask me, they're just looking for ways to pocket more funds."

Bessonval nodded, his expression stern. "We can't afford to be careless. Keep a close eye on everyone."

"Yes, General."

As they spoke, they noticed a group of officers accompanied by 20 or 30 soldiers approaching. The soldiers' uniforms were clearly more impressive and immaculate than those of the French Guards.

"The Royal Guards?" Bessonval frowned. As they came closer, he recognized the face of the man leading them, and quickly put on a smile, tipping his hat in greeting. "Viscount Cossade, what brings you here?"

Cossade, seated on his horse, returned the salute. "Good to see you, General Bessonval. You know, with such an important event tomorrow, I can't afford to make any mistakes, so I need to familiarize myself with the area in advance."

"Who can blame you?" Bessonval chuckled. "I've been making rounds here all day myself."

Cossade glanced toward the barren land on either side of the road. "Oh, I'll go have a look over there. You carry on with your work. After we finish welcoming the princess, I'll treat you to a drink."

"Hah, I'll look forward to that," Bessonval replied.

The two parted ways, and Cossade appeared to be very thorough, leading his men to carefully inspect both sides of the road.

The officer beside Bessonval sneered at Cossade's back. "Hmph, putting on a show. This place is crawling with our men—what's there to see?"

Bessonval waved dismissively. "The Prince is coming here, so it's normal for his guards to conduct a routine inspection."

Meanwhile, Cossade's group passed by a thicket of bushes, just as seven or eight palace painters were approaching from the opposite direction.

As Cossade recognized the leader of the painters, he pulled his horse to a stop and signaled to one of his men. A burly soldier with a prominent nose nodded in response, then led two others into the bushes.

Cossade's group remained in place, effectively concealing the three soldiers who had just disappeared.

The soldier with the prominent nose and his two subordinates quickly shed their military uniforms, revealing the painters' clothes they had on underneath, which were already smeared with paint.

They stuffed their uniforms into empty paint buckets, handed their weapons to one of Cossade's soldiers, and then casually picked up the buckets, blending in with the group of painters as they walked away.

Cossade's group, acting as if nothing had happened, circled around the area a few times before heading back the way they came.

None of the French Guards officers or soldiers noticed that three men were missing from the Prince's elite guard.

The painters, still seemingly engrossed in their work, approached a farmhouse not far away.

Among them, a red-haired man anxiously scanned the surroundings and whispered to the tall soldier disguised as a painter, "Boss, why are there so many soldiers? What exactly are we doing? Is it dangerous?"

The tall soldier smiled casually. "You're new, so you don't know how powerful our Lekwe gang is. Let me tell you, half of these soldiers are our men."

As he spoke, he waved to a soldier in the distance. The soldier responded with a lazy wave and a smile. After all, these craftsmen were from Versailles Palace—who knew which important figure they might be working for? The rank-and-file soldiers were eager to avoid any unnecessary trouble, so they were being very polite.

"Wow, they really are our people," exclaimed the middle-aged "painter" beside him, a note of surprise in his voice.

If he took off his felt hat, it would be obvious he was actually bald. Yes, this man and the red-haired fellow were the surviving members of the Blood Knife gang. The tall soldier leading them was one of Cossade's trusted men, named Odoric.

The mission was so important that Joseph hadn't even involved Fouché. After capturing the Blood Knife gang members, Fouché handed them over to Cossade, who then took charge of all subsequent arrangements.

The red-haired man remained uneasy. "Boss, what exactly are we doing this time?"

Odoric replied according to the "script," "Robbery. Tomorrow, a nobleman will be passing through here with several carts full of gold—that's money from the discount bank. They've got connections with the military, so they've hired these soldiers as bodyguards.

"But little do they know, our boss has powerful connections, and we've already planted our men in the army.

"You all saw it just now—no one even questioned us."

He continued to boost the morale of the two bandits. "And our job is just to keep watch from a distance. Once we've got the gold, we'll slip into those woods over there. There's no risk, and you'll each get at least seven or eight thousand livres."

As they talked, the painters reached the farmhouse. The owner had already been "invited" away by the French Guards, leaving just one soldier on watch.

The painters greeted the guard and then spread out to start working.

Meanwhile, Odoric led his two "subordinates" into the attic, where they quietly hid inside a wooden cabinet.

(End of Chapter)

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