Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

The men of the Royal Guard immediately rushed over, shouting loudly, “Get down immediately, or we are authorized to shoot you!”

Two thugs from the Host Gang completely ignored them, slashing down the victim and running towards an alley without looking back.

These Royal guards were completely different from the poorly equipped police, each armed with a musket and a breastplate.

They immediately lined up in a row, raised their guns to aim, and the leader shouted again, “Last warning, get down immediately!”

However, the robbers made an insulting gesture behind them, laughing maniacally as they ran even faster. In their experience, as long as one was bold and fast, neither the police nor anyone else could touch them.

But this time, they were facing the most elite guards of France.

“Fire!” As the leader gave the order, five muskets fired simultaneously, and the two distant thugs were hit by bullets, toppling forward with several hand-sized holes in their backs, gushing blood.

The precise marksmanship and the chilling resoluteness of the action made the members of the Black Sheep Gang shrink back.

Exchanging glances, they quickly ran back to report to their boss without even checking on their dead henchman.

The Crown Prince’s Guard swept through the Saint Antoine District like an unstoppable behemoth, and by just past 10 a.m., six gang members had been shot by them. The two gangs, previously arrogant and stirring trouble everywhere, suddenly became listless…

This was the order Joseph gave to the guard, to shoot and kill on sight if they could not apprehend criminals! Harsh medicine for a severe illness, and without blood to intimidate the gang members, who knew how many civilians would die? In any case, it was the era of royal power; no one should talk about the rights and liberties of criminals, there were no holy mothers here!

The leader of the Host Gang hunched in his lair, peeking through the curtain slit as the tall and formidable Royal Guard walked past in the streets, their presence causing his eyelids to twitch uncontrollably.

The door was knocked intermittently, bringing the news of gang members being captured or shot.

In one day, he had lost 17 men; his heart was bleeding. “I’m just a thug, is it necessary to call in the army to suppress me?”

The Black Sheep Gang reacted a bit quicker, calling their people back by noon, only losing about a dozen men.

In the following two days, no violent incidents occurred in the Saint Antoine District—the rewards from Similion were high, but the men of the Royal Guard were deadly serious. What use was money if one had no life to spend it?

The news of the gang members lying low reached the police station, where everyone was thrilled, praising the decisiveness and methods of the Crown Prince, as well as the formidable Royal Guard.

Joseph didn’t pay attention to the flattery; he knew that the guard, by intimidating the gang members with thunderous methods, was only a temporary solution. It wouldn’t take long for the gangs to find a loophole, especially since the guards were unfamiliar with the area and lacked investigative skills.

Moreover, most members of the guard were titled knights; if they were to keep patrolling the streets, their morale would soon fall due to a lack of action.

There are thieves every day, but one can’t be vigilant every day. If the mastermind behind this chaos wasn’t found, a major incident was bound to occur sooner or later.

Security Inspector Alden knocked and entered the room, saluting, “Your Highness, all those captured have been interrogated, they are all small fish, but many of them mentioned that for every job done, someone gives their boss a thousand livres, and they also get a good share.”

Joseph frowned inwardly; these guys were indeed committing crimes for money. A thousand livres per time? The mastermind was really generous!

He instructed Alden to interrogate them further, when suddenly a military officer from the guard strode in, saluting respectfully,

“Your Highness, my men have just captured a man named Vallian, his identity seems to be no ordinary…”

“Vallian?” Alden immediately excited, said, “He’s the Black Sheep Gang’s second in command! How did you capture him?!”

The officer said, “He got into a brawl at the gambling house. When I led my team there, he tried to escape, but my men shot three of his henchmen dead. If he hadn’t given us his name, he would have likely been killed too.”

Alden swallowed hard, feeling a bit of sympathy for the Black Sheep Gang thugs, then he turned to Joseph and said,

“Your Highness, Vallian may know something, I’ll go interrogate him right away!”

In less than an hour, Magone came rushing back, his clothes still spattered with blood he hadn’t had time to wipe off, and handed a confession to Joseph:

“Your Highness, we’ve made a big find!”

Joseph saw the confession of the Black Sheep Gang leader, which stated that a man named Raymond was paying them to create chaos, thousand livres at a time, and after a month, if they caused more trouble than the Host Gang, they would get an additional twenty thousand livres.

He frowned slightly and asked, “What does this Raymond do?”

Alden shook his head, but the police clerk beside him exclaimed, “He’s Mr. Similion’s cousin.”

“Similion?” Joseph felt the name was somewhat familiar.

The clerk said, “The former Police Commissioner for this district.”

Joseph suddenly understood; no wonder nearly a hundred police officers had taken leave at the same time, the mastermind behind the scenes was their former supervisor, which explained everything.

Alden, who had been promoted from the civilian patrol, was not quite clear on these convoluted matters, and looked inquiringly at Joseph, “Your Highness, should we arrest Similion?”

Joseph was about to nod when he suddenly thought of something, and asked the clerk, “Could you tell me how much Similion used to earn?”

“It should be thirty livres a month, Your Highness.”

“Is he from a big family?”

“No, Your Highness, Mr. Similion’s father was a minor civil servant, an ordinary household.”

Joseph narrowed his eyes, “On his salary, twenty thousand livres would take more than fifty years to save up. Where did he get such a large sum of money?”

Alden was taken aback, “What do you mean?”

Joseph said slowly, “There must be someone else behind him giving orders.”

Alden pondered for a moment, then said, “Your Highness, I remember Vallian mentioned that Raymond had shown them a bank deposit certificate for twenty thousand livres to prove his ability to pay, from Havre Bank.”

“This could be an important clue.” Joseph nodded, took out a map to check, and found out that Havre was a small bank with only two branches in Paris.

“Count Eman, you and Alden…” he thought for a moment, shook his head and said, “Never mind, I’d better go there myself.”

In the Havre Bank branch closer to the city hall, the bank manager initially refused to let anyone look at the accounts, until Joseph revealed his identity and threatened to have the Secret Police investigate if he did not cooperate. The manager finally gave in.

Similion’s account was straightforward; there were only a few transactions—cashing a banker’s draft for thirty thousand livres, then splitting the money into several deposits at the bank, one of which was exactly twenty thousand livres.

Joseph inwardly sighed at how little awareness people of this era had regarding financial tracking and then obtained the information he most wanted to know—the payer of that draft was the Director of Paris Police, Viscount Gizo!