The Fox of France

Cano paused for a moment, pondering the weight of the matter. "This is a significant decision, and it shouldn't be made by just the two of us."contemporary romance

He continued, "I will seriously consider this. If it proves feasible, I'll write to you about it. However, it wouldn't hurt to be prepared in advance."

Joseph nodded. "I understand. But for this, I need your assurance of priority purchases for the weapons we produce. Besides, you know that genuine quality comes at a higher cost, and, in turn, a higher price. You must ensure that our products won't lose the market to cheap imitations."

Cano replied, "I'll do my best."

"Very well," Joseph said. "If there's no other way, I'll handle it myself."

"Please, don't be reckless," Cano sensed an odd tone in Joseph's voice and cautioned him.

Joseph chuckled, "You don't know me well, do you?"

...

Leaving Cano's place, Joseph gathered his guards and boarded a four-wheeled carriage, departing from Paris.

The researchers who had signed contracts with him had already left Paris, heading for Toulon, a day before Joseph's departure. They were traveling with a slower postal carriage, so Joseph's cavalry caught up with them three days after leaving Paris.

A few days later, they arrived in Toulon. By this time, word had already reached them that Napoleon had expanded the "Naval Research Institute" - correction, it should now be called the Bonaparte Research Institute - just outside Toulon, awaiting their arrival.

The newly expanded Bonaparte Research Institute had a layout quite similar to the old "Army Technology Research Institute." It was surrounded by high walls with drawbridges over moats. The basic layout closely mirrored the Army Technology Research Institute, so the researchers quickly found their places and settled in.

That day, Napoleon had prepared dinner for them. They gathered for a meal and then retired to their quarters.

Joseph took Napoleon aside and they walked along the beach. Joseph began to explain the situation in Paris to Napoleon.

"Are you planning to march with us to Italy?" Napoleon asked. "Why not head straight to Paris? What are those idiots doing over there?"

"Napoleon, it's not the right time to return to Paris just yet," Joseph replied. "You've had some victories, but has your standing among the French people risen significantly? Have you become a household name? Will the people think, 'If only General Napoleon were here' in times of crisis? If not, how can you maintain a stable government even if you overthrow the current one by force? If you can't, you'll only be clearing the path for someone else."

Napoleon listened and smiled wryly, "I know, but watching those fools jumping around is frustrating. It's like watching amateurs play chess."

"You might see them as amateurs, but others may not. It's like watching a game of chess; you may think someone is making a losing move, but bystanders with lower skill levels may think it's a good move. What we need to do now is elevate your prestige among the French people. When they hear about war, they should think, 'If General Napoleon were commanding, things would be better.' Additionally, with the government providing less funding and lower-quality equipment, we should take the opportunity to win over the army, making it truly ours," Joseph explained.

"So, you're suggesting I go to Italy, use the wealth we seize to support the army, and then use a series of victories to highlight the incompetence of the Parisian leaders?" Napoleon quickly grasped Joseph's plan.

"Yes, but not now. We must make the army feel the pain of an inept government first. They must grow to despise or even hate this government. Only then can you use the spoils of war to win them over and make them truly ours. Until then, we must be patient. In the meantime, I'll be preparing some little toys for you," Joseph said cryptically.

"What kind of toys?" Napoleon eagerly asked, remembering how effective the "little musketeers" Joseph had provided were. His expectations were already high.

"It's a secret," Joseph replied.

From that day on, Joseph immersed himself in the research institute. Some of the things he had informed Napoleon about began to take shape in reality.

First, the military pay was reduced, and though the nominal numbers seemed to increase, the soldiers received payment in the form of certificates whose value depreciated rapidly. Refusing these certificates became common, leading to further depreciation. Although the government restrained the printing of certificates to appease the upper class, their value continued to plummet. The soldiers' daily bread rations decreased in both quantity and quality.

Napoleon reduced the frequency and intensity of training and stayed in the camp, eating the same food as the soldiers. He spent his days chatting with them, assuring them that the hardships were temporary, and led them in singing, "Things will get better, things will get better," with the added line, "We'll have buttered bread."

Despite grumbling about their reduced living standards, the soldiers grew fonder of Napoleon.

A decline in living standards alone wouldn't have eroded the image of the government so quickly, but the government's provision of weapons and ammunition added fuel to the fire. The "little musketeers" that the soldiers had once loved were now a cause of concern, as this batch was not marked with the Bonaparte name.

In the northern frontlines, a situation emerged similar to the one between the opposing armies' equipment.

During a live ammunition exercise, one musketeer's shot remained silent for an extended period, leading the curious soldier to approach the "musketball." However, as he got closer, the musketball suddenly exploded.

Luckily, this substandard "musketball" had omitted even the pre-made shrapnel, and the explosion only cracked it in two. The soldier was thrown off by the blast but miraculously escaped unhurt.

Several other "musketballs" failed to fire during the exercise, and lessons from the earlier incident prevented soldiers from approaching them. Napoleon even had the affected area cordoned off with ropes, forbidding anyone from getting near. Still, these "musketballs" remained silent.

The other equipment was similarly subpar. The cannon's gunpowder had absorbed moisture, the sulfur had not been properly crushed, and small stones used for weight measurements had slipped inside. The swords were in terrible condition, prone to notches and rolled edges. The soldiers even joked that they were afraid to use them for fear of cutting bread, but it was partly due to the bread's excessive additives.

Uniforms also deteriorated; the fabric became thinner, and buttons were loosely sewn, easily pulled off.

With such issues, the soldiers' grievances became hard to contain. Lower-ranking officers and their fellow soldiers in the northern frontlines corresponded through letters, vividly recounting dark tales of the situation. The story of the unfortunate General Joubert quickly spread.

Napoleon tried to defend the government as much as possible, shifting the blame onto unscrupulous merchants. He argued that the current government officials weren't necessarily bad people; they were just young and naive, susceptible to manipulation by cunning businessmen.

However, this narrative lacked persuasiveness. The soldiers were not naive; they did not believe that a group of naive young men had risen to such positions.

"They could only be fools if they got fooled by a few unscrupulous merchants," one soldier said.

"They're either foolish or corrupt!" someone concurred.

"They've climbed to those positions; they can't be foolish. Their positions aren't inherited. If we're talking about dirty dealings, I won't deny being a Mitterrand!" another soldier cursed.

"Maybe some merchant offered them pretty women," one began to speculate.

"How do you know those 'women' are indeed beautiful? Maybe they just washed their own sons and delivered them to those people. You know, some of them have a taste for that…" the conversation took an even stranger turn.

"Well, either way, the ones dying on the battlefield aren't them. They're not foolish; they're corrupt!" someone concluded.

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