The Fox of France

Chapter 197: News of Uncertain Veracity

Chapter 197: News of Uncertain Veracity

The military-industrial complex had its unique encryption system, allowing swift information transmission through the national economic signaling network. On a day by the riverside, where Napoleon and a few officers were picnicking and fishing, he received a message from the military-industrial complex, wrapped in their cryptic code.

As he accepted the intelligence with a smile, he turned to Vebitzki, who was busy spreading butter on a piece of bread. "I bet this is Joseph, that timid fellow, urging us to come to his rescue again."

With the intelligence in hand, Napoleon's face turned grim after a quick read. He jumped up from the ground, exclaiming, "Damn Joseph! Stop playing around, everyone, get up; we need to prepare for a forced march!"

Bertier, startled by Napoleon's reaction, asked, "What's going on? Is there trouble on the front lines?" His hands trembled, and the butter-slathered bread slipped onto his pants, leaving a greasy stain.

"Yes, trouble, big trouble!" Napoleon's face contorted with anger. "That idiot Joseph, a complete imbecile! What's wrong with his brain? Has it been eaten by dogs? Look, it's been just three days, and that fool has decimated thousands of British and Prussian soldiers. Now he claims the British and Prussians haven't launched an attack for a whole day! They might be planning to retreat! Damn it, I gave up the honor of annihilating Suvarov in Italy, crossed treacherous mountains, and traveled a thousand miles to come to Paris. And now, what's this? A leisurely stroll? This fool, why can't he be a bit less heavy-handed and give us some room to maneuver? He..."

As Napoleon walked back, he furiously recalled all the derogatory terms Joseph had ever used on him, applying them in turn to Joseph. When he mounted his horse, his temper had cooled slightly, and Bertier ventured to ask, "General, could it be...has Verdun fallen?"

"If that were the case, it might be easier!" Napoleon muttered darkly. "But it's impossible. I told you, Joseph, that fool, can defend Verdun until he dies of old age. It's not Verdun; it's this scoundrel's cunning tactics. In just three days, he's massacred or crippled tens of thousands of British and Prussian soldiers. Now he says the British and Prussians haven't launched an attack for an entire day! They might be considering a retreat! I give up my pursuit of Suvarov's total destruction in Italy, overcome treacherous mountains, and travel a thousand miles to Paris. And what does he do? This fool, he can't be a little less heavy-handed and leave us with some hope? He..."

After a moment of sighing, Napoleon continued, "Send a message to that idiot, no matter what it takes. He must hold off the British and Prussians, at least for another week!"

Joseph knew that something was amiss when the British and Prussians had refrained from attacking for a whole day. What if they decided not to fight anymore and turned to defense? That wouldn't be good at all. Joseph cursed Napoleon with a mix of frustration and panic, wondering why he hadn't arrived yet. He thought, "If we take the initiative and sacrifice some lives to give them hope, would that work? No, it would damage my reputation, and what if things went awry?"

So Joseph quickly dismissed that idea.

What about attacking first to pin down the enemy, preventing their immediate retreat? This required expert control of the timing, method, and force. Achieving this level of control would take at least a Level 8 micro-operation. Joseph evaluated his own skills in a few picoseconds and promptly discarded the plan.

How could he make John and Fritz stay? He had to create a delusion, convincing them that with a little more effort, they could succeed. But how could he guide them to such a misconception?

Joseph put himself in their shoes. "Russia has betrayed us, and a prolonged war isn't promising for either Britain or Prussia. By now, Paris is within reach, and they've invested so much. Abandoning the attack would mean admitting failure, which would be hard to explain. So long as there's any reason, even a somewhat unconvincing one, for them to continue the attack, they surely will. The problem is how to give them that reason. Richot seems to have some double agents..."

Joseph gathered his officers, and a discussion began.

"In conclusion," one tall, thin middle-aged man said, "Philip, do you think this message is reliable?"

"Count, I dare not confirm the authenticity of this news. The message comes from Viscount Thierry in Paris, and in recent years, Thierry has been quite effective in his work," the young man named Philippe replied, resting his hands on the table. If you observed closely, you would notice a peculiar waxy yellow tint to his skin, much like tanned leather.

"Effective?" The tall, lean middle-aged man scoffed. "So, being effective means letting a few hundred people chase down tens of thousands?"

"Count, I believe your expectations for Viscount Thierry might be too harsh. Whether it's those few hundred or those tens of thousands, essentially, they are our enemies. So, it doesn't matter who is chasing whom; I think that's Viscount Thierry's success. We can't rely on revolution or uprising to reclaim Paris. After all, we can't accept a kingdom where a parliament decides everything," Philippe explained.

Philippe's response, though not particularly polite, aligned perfectly with the Count's political stance and his judgment of the enemy. Thus, the Count didn't get angry. He nodded in agreement and said, "Philippe, you're right. I might indeed be demanding too much from Viscount Thierry. If this news is true, then the day we return to Paris might be nearer than we think..."

This man is the exiled Count of Artois, the king whose head was severed, Louis XVI, and the brother of the self-proclaimed King of France, Louis XVIII. In the original history, after the Bourbon dynasty's restoration, he also served as king for a time under the title "Charles X." Among all the royalists, he was the most conservative and stubborn.

"Count, at this moment, whether this news is true or not, I believe we should treat it as true," Philippe added.

"Mr. Treville, what do you mean?" one of the men by the Count's side asked. At the same time, the Count also turned his puzzled gaze to him.

"Gentlemen, just before, we received news of the setback of the British-Prussian coalition in Verdun," Philippe de Treville continued, surveying everyone, who nodded in agreement.

"Our friends within the British and Prussian armies have also informed us that both the British and Prussians are considering a temporary retreat. The reliability of this news is unquestionable, as you all know. They've temporarily retreated; what will be the consequences? Have you gentlemen considered it?"

Everyone remained silent.

"Very soon, General Napoleon Bonaparte's army will reach Paris. If the British and Prussians can't take Verdun before this army arrives, they won't have a better chance of capturing Verdun or conquering Paris. Gentlemen, what do you think will happen next?"

Still, no one uttered a word.

"There will be a decisive battle. The best-case scenario is both sides losing their capability to continue the attack. Then, everyone will negotiate, the rebels will betray the Irish and Polish, and the British and Prussians will betray us, resulting in a 'peace.' Or General Napoleon Bonaparte will achieve another brilliant victory. Gentlemen, for us, any outcome other than capturing Verdun and conquering Paris is a bitter pill to swallow, isn't it?"

At this point, Philippe de Treville paused, allowing everyone to understand the gravity of the situation. Then he continued, "So, whether this news is true or not, it's good news for us because it can motivate the British and Prussians to continue their attack. If it's true, we'll be the biggest winners. Even if it's false, even a trap, the ones who pay the price won't be us, and it won't even be our most reliable allies. So, gentlemen, I don't understand why we, not being British or Prussian, should hesitate over the veracity of this news."

"Clap, clap, clap..." The Count of Artois led the applause.