Afterward, Charles hurried to the Palace of Versailles, where he was received by the assistant to the French Naval Minister and was given a small commendation ceremony, along with a reward of 500 livres.
Charles indeed deserved such recognition—without the pirate intelligence he had purchased from the smugglers, the Combined Fleet might still be blindly searching the vast Mediterranean.
However, after the ceremony, a French official informed him that there had been a change of plan regarding his scheduled testimony at the public trial of the pirates; he now needed to return immediately to Algiers to help the French "diplomats" make contact with Pasha Eunice.
...
Bourges, in the north-central part of France, is an extremely impoverished area, and Labourn Parish is one of its poorest villages.
Sharecropper Alberic sat on a wooden barrel, inhaling the dry, hot air, his face showing a look of utter despair in front of the cracked earth.
He simply did not have the strength to carry water any longer.
As the weather grew hotter, the small river that once flowed by the village had dried up. He now had to walk two miles to fetch water from the neighboring village to irrigate his fields.
Indeed, there were too few communal horses in the village, and it was more than ten days before it was his turn to use one.
And the small amount of water he could carry by hand was woefully inadequate for the thirty acres he had planted.
After a hail disaster, he had applied for government relief in the form of potato seeds, only to find that it never rained afterward.𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚
He had so far only planted two acres of potatoes, the maximum area he and his son could water by hand, for planting any more would mean the potatoes dying from dehydration.
Alberic was now considering whether he should eat the potatoes meant for seeds—although it was a serious violation of the rules, the priest had said they could only keep for half a month at most, and it would be a shame to let them all rot.
Just then, a young tenant farmer from the village passed by, ringing a bell and shouting:
"All men, gather at the church!"
Alberic hurriedly waved to the man and asked loudly:
"Didier, are we going to work for the baron?"
"No, it's to help," Didier said, "Help Yanar Parish move stones."
"Ah? Move stones?"
Didier nodded impatiently: "Yes, the government brought them specially, saying it's some kind of fertilizer. Supposed to make the crops grow better. But it looks like just stones to me."
Alberic quickly called his son and they both headed for the church.
About forty or fifty people had already gathered near the church, buzzing with speculation:
"Why go to Yanar Village to work?"
"I heard Mr. Audreyan say the government has passed a 'water pump rental act,' and they've obtained a water pump!"
"But what does that have to do with us?"
While Yanar Parish was a parish in relatively better condition, barely able to afford to rent a water pump, Labourn Parish was destitute, unable to pay the monthly rental fee of 200 livres, to say nothing of the parish bank.
Immediately, a villager said: "Mr. Audreyan stated that according to the rental act, Yanar Village must lend us the water pump for eleven days each month, and in return, we need to work for them."
"A water pump?!" Alberic exclaimed excitedly, "I heard that thing can water dozens of acres in one day, we're saved!"
Before long, the parish Stadtholder, Mr. Audreyan, arrived at the church, counted the people, and then instructed:
"Today and tomorrow we move fertilizer for Yanar Parish. The day after tomorrow, we move our own.
"After that, we'll also help them with repairing the canals."
As he spoke, joy appeared on his face: "However, they will deliver the water pump to us tomorrow evening!"
The tenant farmers immediately erupted into cheers—with water, there was hope for survival. Ignoring the blazing sun overhead, they followed Mr. Audreyan toward the adjacent village...
Two days later, Alberic's family also received some of the light grey stones marked with black spots. According to the priest, it was a very precious fertilizer that only needed to be crushed into fine bits, soaked in water, and then applied to the land to significantly improve crop yield.
All of the fertilizer was obtained on credit after the parish signed an agreement with a company called Gemini Trading Company. It turned out that one acre required an investment of five to seven sols, to be paid after the fall harvest. However, the company guaranteed that if the increased crop yield did not exceed the cost of the fertilizer, they would not charge a penny.
Yes, these stones were the phosphate rock that Joseph had ordered to be transported back from Nauru, essentially mineralized bird droppings.
This stuff was definitely the best fertilizer one could get in this era!
You see, Nauru in later years made a fortune selling "bird droppings stones," and became one of the richest countries for a brief period. The citizens each had a luxury car, bought property in Australia at will, and flew overseas for cold treatments.
Of course, after the mines were depleted, they fell back into poverty overnight, but that's another story.
Limited by transport capacity, only two shipments of phosphate rock, totaling over six hundred tons, had been brought back, temporarily supplied to the more troubled regions of France. However, a second fleet of seventeen ships had already reached the Pacific Ocean. When they returned, they would greatly improve France's agricultural output.
For now, though, Britain was still the world's leading naval power, so France could not yet publicize this matter and had to quietly transport the "stones" back home. If news ever leaked, it might be forcibly seized by the British.
Therefore, Joseph had also prepared an alternative plan: to promote the method of composting.
The so-called "composting" involved using microorganisms to process organic matter, such as leaves, straw, food scraps, and even feces, decomposing it into humus, which is a form of fertilizer plants can absorb.
Before the widespread use of chemical fertilizers, this could be considered the best method for humans to produce fertilizer, capable of maintaining soil fertility for years without the need for fallowing.
Although Europe had simple composting as early as the 17th century, it was all done by experience, mixing organics haphazardly and letting it sit for a while, resulting in rather mediocre fertility. It wasn't until the mid-19th century, with scientific composting theories, that fertility gradually improved.
Joseph had learned about the basic principles of composting from documentaries in later generations, which is nothing more than a layer of organic matter plus a layer of soil, controlling moisture, and isolating air. Then turning the pile once a month, three months for maturation.
However, theory is one thing, how to operate specifically, and the proportions of organic matter and moisture, needed to be pondered by professionals.
Joseph entrusted this task to the Church.
Indeed, compared to inefficient bureaucrats, the Church was quite attentive in matters of public welfare. Having dozens of priests from different churches each work on composting with various ratios to observe the effects would determine the most suitable composting method. Then, it could be promoted nationwide.
The night deepened.
Alberic and two villagers followed the cart back to the village and then, lighting torches, unloaded the coal next to the pump.
The coal was transported from a small coal mine more than ten miles away. Such small coal mines were now everywhere. Recently, the government had issued the "Coal Mining Promotion Act," encouraging the exploitation of coal mines and providing subsidies for mines that sold a certain volume of coal.
Since then, investors operating small coal mines with a few dozen people had sprung up like mushrooms after rain and coal prices had continued to drop. Now, if the villagers carried the coal themselves, the village could fully afford the small amount of coal consumed by the pump.
Watching the water flow illuminated by torches continuously pouring into the fields through the canals, although Alberic and the others were exhausted and sore, their faces were filled with smiles.
Obviously, the monthly eleven days of irrigation couldn't cover all the cultivated land in the village, but it could at least preserve over sixty percent of the crops. Coupled with that supposedly magical stone fertilizer, they should be able to harvest enough grain to sustain the family through the autumn.
Labourn Parish was lucky. Limited by the production of steam engines in France, there were still many areas in urgent need of irrigation that, although they had submitted applications in accordance with the pump rental law, could only anxiously wait for the life-saving pumps.
...
In the eastern part of Tunisia, the City of Sfax.
A man in his thirties, with sunken eyes and a fine high nose, dismounted from a carriage and quickly entered a sugar shop on the street corner which clearly had a French style.
There were many French merchants in Tunisia, especially those high-end shops selling silk, sugar, and tea; many of them were owned by the French.
The shop owner glanced at him, then nonchalantly opened a door on the counter, allowing him to enter the back room.
Prosper from the Paris Police Department was seated inside, dressed in the typical Tunisian long robe in grey-white and wearing a golden bucket-shaped hat, idly playing with dates on a plate out of sheer boredom.
The man with North African features entered the room, and Prosper quickly tipped his hat to him, greeting in French,
"Fabien... ah, sorry, I should say Mr. Isaac, how's the situation?"
Isaac first took several large gulps of water from the table before excitedly saying,
"I met that officer named Imanzad. He indeed knows Eunice, or rather, he admires him greatly.
"The most fortunate thing is, this Imanzad is about to retire and only holds a nominal position in the Tunisian Army."
"How is that fortunate?" Prosper started to say but then stopped short, his eyes suddenly lighting up, "Are you saying he has ample time to make a trip to Algiers?"
"Exactly!" Isaac nodded, "Except he doesn't seem to trust me enough yet, so he was reluctant to make any promises. Next, it's time for our consul to take action."
Prosper did not expect things to go so smoothly; they had been in Tunisia for merely ten days and had already made contact with one of Eunice's former subordinates.
Of course, this was also thanks to Isaac, a member of the Police Department with North African ancestry—previously, his heritage often subjected him to discrimination. But here, his command of Arabic and familiarity with North African customs were considerable assets that helped him excel.
Prosper also gulped down several mouthfuls of water—without drinking enough before going out in this accursed place, dehydration would soon become unbearable—and pulled Isaac to head for the door,
"Let's go find Consul Joan right now."
Three days later, after several meetings between the French consul and Imanzad, the latter finally boarded a smuggling ship that had been waiting in the harbor with the agents of the Police Affairs Department.
They were to head directly to Dahra in Algiers to meet Eunice, who had left Tunisia more than thirty years ago.
...
Versailles Palace Square.
The place was crowded, and the square had likely gathered tens of thousands of people. They had all come from Paris to attend His Majesty the King's birthday celebration.
A month ago, the newspapers had said that around three days before and after the King's birthday, grand song and dance competitions and swordsmanship contests would be held. Of course, the most attractive event was the distribution of free food every afternoon at 5 o'clock.
Of course, many people had come for the lottery advertised in the newspapers as well, with a jackpot of up to 3,000 livres—just for the price of one sou, one could buy a ticket.
On the King's birthday, His Majesty himself would announce the winning numbers and present the substantial prize money in public.
The Parisians were very interested in these kinds of get-rich-quick schemes. Most people with some spare money had bought a lottery ticket. Some, to increase their chances of winning, bought several or even dozens of tickets.
Although the festival had not yet begun, there were already numerous vendors selling snacks or small toys, and street troupes were performing in the open. Everywhere there was a festive and merry atmosphere. People had long thrown the hailstorm that had destroyed 65% of France's agricultural harvest out of their minds.
In the hall on the first floor of the Versailles Palace, a slightly overweight official seated behind a wooden table glanced at his watch, stood up, and prepared to remove the wooden sign that read "Swordsmanship Competition Enrollment."
Just then, a young man, rather slender and with his hat brim pulled down low, approached and politely stopped him, speaking in a strange voice,
"Please wait, I would like to sign up."
"Oh, very well, you've come just in time," the official had to sit back down in his chair and, taking up his pen, said, "You cannot sign up for someone else. Please tell me your name."
"Jean-Francois Henri de Freze."
The official quickly wrote down the name, stamped it, and then handed the slip of paper to him:
"Please keep your enrollment receipt safe, Viscount Freze."
"Thank you," the latter took the paper slip and turned to leave.
The official suddenly remembered something and called out to him:
"Wait! Did you say you are Viscount Freze?"
The young man did not answer, simply quickened his pace with his head down.
"Stop him!" the official in charge of enrollment shouted.
Three guards immediately surrounded the "Viscount Freze."
The enrollment official walked over, looking at the registrant with a suspicious eye, and said:
"If you don't mind, could you please take off your hat?"𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢
"Viscount Freze," with no other choice, took off his tricorn hat and showed him an apologetic smile.
She was clearly a beautiful lady with charming eyes and a sweet smile.
"As I suspected! You are Miss Soleil, sister of Viscount Freze, aren't you? You really shouldn't be doing this," the enrollment official said, reaching out his hand, "This is a competition for gentlemen, fighting and killing is not suitable for a lady as beautiful as you. Now, please give me back your enrollment receipt."
"But then, to whom shall the championship go, if not for my participation?" Soleil smiled slightly, and suddenly, with a powerful tug at the guard on her left, she hooked her boot around his ankle. Taking advantage of his loss of balance, she quickly slipped past him from the left side.
The guard ended up blocking the view of the opposite guard. The last guard hurriedly gave chase, but after circling the stairs twice, he had already lost sight of Soleil.
Meanwhile, in the center of the Marble Courtyard, the noble ladies' competition was already in full swing on a wooden stage.
About five or six hundred nobles formed a fan shape around the stage, with Queen Mary at their center.
A row of soldiers stood behind them, keeping the thousands of commoners who were watching from the outer circle at a distance. The people of Paris had rarely had such an opportunity to witness noblewomen demonstrating their singing talent.
Suddenly, the nobles let out cries of excitement: "Madame Garlan! It's Madame Garlan!"