August 23, 1770

Ajaccio, inside the Doge's Palace

"Report to you, Lord Governor, that the Northern Legion, with the exception of a small number of necessary garrisons, has arrived at the Ajaccio Military Region to take your command."

In Lawrence's study, Major Trevary stood upright in front of Lawrence and reported with a succinct salute.

Next to Major Trefali was Major Serière, who, after the same salute, reported in fluent Italian:

"Your Excellency Bonaparte, the French garrison in Corsica is ready to go, and you can give orders at any time."

After listening to the two reports, Lawrence nodded in satisfaction.

In this way, the entire strength of the entire Corsican Wehrmacht was concentrated in Ajaccio.

"The Wehrmacht now has 4,000 troops in the Ajaccio Military Region, and if you include the French army, we now have a total of 6,000 troops at our disposal."

Major Trefali expertly pulled out a topographical map of the surroundings of Ajaccio and pointed to the camp where the army was stationed and introduced it to Lawrence.

Lawrence looked down at the map, and although the French army under Major Serier was not under his command in terms of organization, the two thousand French troops would still have himself as the actual commander in this incident against the landlord group.

After all, Major Serierier had pinned his hopes of leaving the island and continuing his promotion on Lawrence, and it was nothing to relinquish command.

"Six thousand... The number of people that the other side can recruit is definitely more than that."

Looking at the distribution of military camps on the map, Lawrence sighed slightly.

Although almost all the forces of the Corsican army have been gathered, they are still much inferior to those of the landlords.

Listening to Lawrence's sigh, Major Trefary nodded heavily in approval:

"That's true, even if the other party just sends a middle-aged man to the station, I estimate that the number will be around 10,000. But the good news is that the quality of the troops they have formed on the spot will be very poor, and we still have a big advantage."

However, although Lawrence also knew this truth, the Wehrmacht must have a great advantage in frontal combat against the improvised rabble, but it was not the best choice to defeat the landlord coalition on the frontal battlefield.

Not to mention the small but real risk of defeat, even if the enemy's coalition forces are defeated once, the other side may be able to organize a follow-up counterattack with its deep-rooted heritage in the southern plains.

Even in the worst-case scenario, there is a risk that this civil war will turn into a long-lasting guerrilla war, which is unacceptable to Lawrence, who demands absolute stability within Corsica.

And there is always a vague concern in Lawrence about whether the unknown factors that have caused the current tensions in the western Mediterranean will also affect Corsica, which is on the cusp.

[The app that has been running stably for many years is comparable to the old version of the book-chasing artifact, which is used by old bookworms.]

There was a priest from the village who came to the high.

"Your Excellency Bonaparte, according to the advice below—" Major Serurier stretched out his finger and slowly swiped his finger across the map of Corsica, and suddenly interjected:

"Now that our troops have all been assembled, we should immediately go south to clear the enemy forces, and we can't give them too much time to prepare."

Lawrence first approved of Celelière's train of thought, and then shook his head and denied:

"Although this is true, you still can't rush to send troops until you have thoroughly explored the reality of the other party. I've assigned my subordinates to spy on the Southern Plains, and I should have reached a conclusion in the next two days."

"But...!" Major Serreux frowned, and seemed to have taken Lawrence's remarks as a form of indecision:

"We don't need to be so cautious against those pitchfork-wielding peasants, I swear it only takes three salvos, and those peasants who have never seen a gun before will drop their weapons and throw in the towel!"

After all, in the eyes of this meritorious major who had personally experienced the Seven Years' War, his command and military vision must have been a lot higher than that of the young governor in the middle of nowhere.

"If they're really just farmers wielding pitchfork hoes, it doesn't hurt to give them a few more days." Lawrence's face sank, and he said slowly:

"I'm afraid..."

"Afraid?" Major Serier's face was full of doubt, and he really didn't know what it was necessary to be cautious in the face of a rabble.

As the three of them in the study discuss the war that will determine the fate of Corsica, Lawrence's personal secretary, Anna, suddenly pushes the door open.

She knocked softly twice on the door to interrupt the conversation, and then reported softly:

"Sorry to bother, sir, but Lieutenant Seth asked for your reception, and he seems to be in a hurry."

"Lieutenant Seth? Let him in."

Lawrence frowned slightly, and waved Anna to bring Lieutenant Seth with him.

Major Trefali, who was on the side, couldn't help but be a little puzzled, and briefly added:

"I remember you put Lieutenant Seth in charge of intelligence gathering on the situation in the Southern Plains... Looks like there's movement on the other side?"

Lawrence glanced up at the calendar hanging on the wall of his study and nodded slightly:

"It's been a few days since the landlords got the news, so it's strange if there is no movement."

"That's right."

In the midst of their conversation, Lieutenant Seth, dressed in his usual uniform, slammed into the study with a stack of yellowed papyrus in his hand.

Looking at Lieutenant Seth, who was sweating and panting, Lawrence also knew that he must have gotten some latest news before rushing to the Governor's Palace, so he asked calmly:

"Don't worry, Lieutenant, if you have something to say, speak slowly."

Lieutenant Seth gasped heavily, and the saluting movements were a little deformed, and after nodding his head a few times, he raised the papyrus in his hand and glanced at it, and said intermittently:

"Rude Governor, Southern... There's news in the Southern Plains. More than a dozen large landowners gathered in the town of Figari, and all seemed to be following the orders of a local landowner named Justin. Their men also began to recruit serfs on a large scale and procure food and weapons. Our scouts estimate that there are at least six thousand soldiers in the current town of Figari who are at Justin's orders."

Listening to Lieutenant Seth's loud voice, Lawrence and the three of them had no surprised expressions, these actions of the landlord group were just expected.

The only valuable information is the number of soldiers in the town of Figari, which is about the same as Lawrence estimated, and if the opponent continues to recruit soldiers at this rate, the number of enemy troops should be around 10,000 by the time of the decisive battle.

"Is that all?" Lawrence asked Lieutenant Seth as he motioned for Major Trefali to mark the information on the map.

If it were just this kind of regular information, it would not have made this reliable lieutenant appear so anxious.

Sure enough, Lieutenant Seth took a deep breath, glanced at the news recorded on the papyrus in his hand again, and reported it slowly and heavily

Confession:

"And... Lord Governor, our scouts have seen for themselves that the soldiers of the town of Figari are already training in live ammunition! They have built an arsenal on the outskirts of the town, and most of the rebels are already armed with muskets."

"What did you say?!" Major Trefalli and Major Serreier were startled, and stared at Lieutenant Seth with wide eyes, unable to believe their ears.

If this were the case, their assessment of the strength of the landlords' group would have to be completely re-assessed.

After all, the biggest advantage of the smoothbore spear is that it is easy to train, even in the European theater, a group of conscripted peasants can set foot on the battlefield after ten days of training.

Although they are still far behind those veterans who have experienced the baptism of war or the standing army that is diligent in training, these quick smoothbore gunmen can still be called a certain combat power.

"It's not that simple—" Lawrence didn't show much surprise, but admitted that it was in line with the worst he had expected.

The landlords could not have been able to conjure thousands of muskets and corresponding ammunition from Corsican in such a short time.

Even the arsenals of the Wehrmacht of Corsican did not have such a large amount of weapons and equipment in stock.

In other words, they must have received these supports from the outside world.

"The best-case scenario is that these landlords get in touch with some smugglers and buy a batch of arms... Worst-case scenario..."

Lawrence rested his right hand on his forehead and closed his eyes in contemplation of the current situation.

At this time, Major Trefalli and Major Serier also quickly reacted that the source of the landlords' weapons could not be from the island.

Major Serurier gritted his teeth and pointed to the coastline of Corsica on the map with a heavy expression.

"Damn, they must have bought muskets from smugglers outside Corsica, Lord Bonaparte, we must send a navy to block their supplies!"

Before Lawrence could speak, Major Trevary shook his head in the negative, then sighed:

"Major Serreier, this is not France, and our navy does not block an entire island as easily as you do."

As a native soldier who had experienced Corsican independence, Major Trefali knew all too well about the current state of the Corsican navy.

Under the perennial blockade and raids of the Genoese navy, the ships of the Corsican navy have long been left.

Coupled with the fact that Corsica's coastline is already tortuous and complex, and there are so many natural harbors that can anchor ships, it is completely foolish to rely on the navy's two third-class ships and a dozen patrol ships to blockade the entire southern coastline.

"This—" Major Celelier was stunned for a moment, and then turned to look at Lawrence, who was still in deep thought, and a look of shame suddenly appeared on his face.

Just now, he was still trying to persuade Lawrence to go south directly to defeat the rebels, but he didn't expect to get the news immediately that the strength of the rebels was not as weak as he estimated.

Although the Corsican military is still stronger than the rebels of the landlord group, if they suddenly engage in such an attitude of contempt for the enemy, it may really cause a catastrophe.

"I'm sorry, Lord Bonaparte, but I was reckless."

Major Serreux sighed and quickly lowered his head in apology, only then did he realize how correct Lawrence's decision was to reconnoiter the enemy first.

Lawrence, still with his eyes closed, just nodded his head, and continued to think in his heart:

"If the worst I expected, it would be more than just a few thousand muskets arriving in Corsica... No, there are too many variables in a head-to-head battle, and the confrontation on the battlefield must be used as a last resort, and what I want most is to let this rabble break itself..."

After a few moments, Lawrence, who was silent, finally had a preliminary plan.

He suddenly opened his eyes, nodded firmly to the two majors in front of him, signaled that today's interview would end here, and then instructed Anna, who was waiting outside the door:

"Anna,

Immediately have Mr. Cojero from the Ministry of Finance come and see me."

......

At the same time, south of Corsica, the municipality of Figari.

On the plains on the outskirts, thousands of serfs threw down their hoes and sickles, and came out of the field estates to join, or were forced to join, the army of the lords.

Each of them had received a new shiny and even oil-coated standard smoothbore gun the other day, and was now in a loose and sloppy formation, practicing the completely unfamiliar weapon in their hands under the command of a dozen instructors with crappy accents.

On a hill in the middle of the plain overlooking the entire training ground, Justin, a group of landlords, and a gentleman in a black tuxedo and a woolen hat were sitting here watching the training on the field.

The gentleman in the black gown, who even the landlords did not know his identity, only that Lord Justin called him Sir Robert, sat next to him, and the two were talking in a low voice.

"Sir Robert, thank you so much for your generous support." Mr. Justin stared closely at the wisps of gunpowder smoke rising from the training ground, and said with some concern:

"But... You know, these mud legs are as stupid as pigs, and even though you brought a lot of instructors to train and we have a numerical advantage, I'm not 100% sure that I'll be able to score Ajaccio."

Sir Robert also watched the situation on the field attentively, and when he heard Lord Justin's concern, he only sneered, and said in Italian, which he was not fluent in:

"Don't worry, friend, you just need to fend off the Wehrmacht's onslaught and buy enough time. More aid will continue to arrive in your warehouses, and if there is a long war, Bonaparte will not be able to consume you."

Hearing this, Master Justin's eyes suddenly became hot, and Fang Cai's worries were swept away, and he couldn't help rubbing his hands and laughing and said:

"Well, great, don't worry, I've sent people to build an earthen ram around the town of Figari, and with our knowledge of the terrain and your help, we can defend the town of Figari until we die! I don't know how you're so kind!"

Sir Robert chuckled twice, then closed his mouth, dodging Justin's last question.

I am afraid that no one but Sir Robert himself will know that he has been ordered to come to this island with only one mission:

"Let Corsica plunge into protracted chaos once again, and let Lawrence Bonaparte be constrained by the situation and not leave the island."