Central Corsica

On the outskirts of the municipality of Propriano

Little George curled up on a broken wooden plank with a few straws, trying not to be drawn to the wriggling of his empty stomach.

Although there were no clocks in this dilapidated little grass hut, little George glanced through the cracks in the wall and knew that it was past midnight.

Hungry, so hungry.

For such a sixteen-year-old young man in the prime of life, eating only a piece of black bread as hard as a stone a day was not enough.

Little George knew that he had only a few hours to rest in the night, and when the dawn sun pierced the sky, he would have to use the sickle again to drag his sleepy body and sprinkle all the energy of the whole day in the wheat field.

Still, the wriggling of hunger tormented the industrious little farmer and kept him awake for a moment.

Little George lay in bed in distraction, subconsciously recalling his childhood, which was the only time he could fill his stomach.

He remembered that his father was a free farmer who had a fertile field of his own on the outskirts of the town.

Every year in late summer and early autumn until the time of the harvest, when it was time to eat, little George would see a large piece of brown and fragrant new wheat bread on his table.

His favorite thing to do was to stuff bread into his mouth while listening to his father's latest story of Governor Pauli's fight against the Genoese in Bastia.

Thinking of this, little George's eyes couldn't help but moisten.

Later, a cold wind in the cold winter caused his father to suffer from tuberculosis, and in Corsica, where there was little medical care, his father did not even survive the cold winter, and closed his eyes forever before the arrival of spring.

Little George reluctantly dug a grave for his father in a corner of the field, and used his family savings to invite a priest to pray for his burial.

However, the day after my father's death.

A group of servants dressed in white surrounded a graceful and luxurious old man and broke directly into his house.

Little George knew, it was a local landlord.

The old man raised his eyebrows, looked at the valuable objects in his house, and when he raised his hand, he took out a debt slip with handwriting, saying only that little George's father owed him a few hundred gold coins, and wanted to use the land and the house to pay off the debt.

[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.]

Overall, not bad, at least much better than usual.

Little George wiped the hot sweat from his forehead, carefully wrapped the precious food in a cloth, and prepared to enjoy it again when he returned home.

"It's time to go back... It won't be long before dawn."

And just as little George mustered up all his strength and was about to rush back, an unusual scenery suddenly disappeared from the afterglow of his vision.

It was a mountain bag that stretched along the road into the distance.

I saw a bright and beating line of fire on the top of the mountain, which was especially conspicuous in the dark night, like a winding fire snake, slowly moving down the road on the mountain.

"That's...?"

Little George was stunned for a moment, thinking that there was a wildfire in the mountains and forests somewhere.

He quickly rubbed his eyes vigorously and stared at the mountain bag with wide eyes.

It was only then that he could fully see that it was not a fiery snake at all, but a large group of men and horses with torches slowly moving along the road.

And the procession seemed endless, with neatly formed arrays coming out of the back of the hill in a steady stream, and little George swore he had never seen so many people get together even at Christmas *** in the town.

Such a huge momentum could not help but make the little serf swallow nervously.

Especially after discovering that the team was moving in the direction where he was, little George didn't dare to stay longer, covered the bag in his hand and prepared to leave here and go home quickly.

However, as soon as he turned around and didn't take a few steps, he heard a chilling neighing sound of a war horse behind him.

Little George turned his head in horror, but saw a cavalryman on a tall horse running towards him.

The cavalryman, dressed in leather armor and with sharp eyes, was staring at little George, who was fleeing not far away, and waved his saber in his hand while chasing after him, shouting:

"Stop! If you want to live, don't run."

Little George glanced back at the scimitar that glowed with cold light in the moonlight, and suddenly his legs went limp, and he quickly sat down and fell to the ground.

Seeing little George sitting on the ground, the cavalryman also put his sword into its sheath, rode around him, and then shouted into the woods beside him:

"Captain! It's a kid, he doesn't have a weapon, he doesn't look like a spy."

A few more cavalrymen slowly walked out of the woods, and the man at the head squinted at the little George on the ground, seemed to be a little embarrassed, and after hesitating for a moment, he still ordered:

"Hmm... Let's take him with me first, and report back to Master Bonaparte. If he's really a spy, we can't afford to be derelict in our duties."

"Yes!"

Little George was so frightened that he could not say anything, and let the horseman's strong hand carry him on horseback, and then the men galloped away towards the marching procession not far away.

…

About twenty minutes later, little George found himself in a cleared field lit by the light of the torch.

All around him were soldiers with torches and muskets on their shoulders, and their resolute expressions and seemingly tireless eyes made little George feel a chill down his back.

Surrounded by the soldiers in the center are two officers in military uniforms, the style of their uniforms is very similar, but if you look closely, there are some differences, but the ribbons on the cuffs of the two indicate the rank are exactly the same.

Sandwiched between the two officers was a young man who didn't look much older than himself, sitting on the back of a white horse, looking at him with a frown.

Little George shivered nervously, and from the words of the few cavalrymen, he already knew that he was being treated as a hostile spy by this army.

At this moment, this helpless little serf did not know what fate awaited him.

In a tense and solemn atmosphere, the young man on the white horse suddenly spoke:

"He doesn't look like a scout, he's too thin, and that Justin's men don't have regular troops, but they wouldn't send such a skinny kid to find out what we're doing."

Hearing this, little George immediately became excited, as if he had been redeemed, and shouted repeatedly:

"Yes, Yes, Your Excellency! My name is George, and everyone in this land knows me, and we've lived here since my grandfather."

The two officers also nodded approvingly, in the eyes of their professional soldiers, there is indeed no army that would send such a thin and weak child who is helpless as a scout, after all, those who can be scouts are all the elite of the army with superhuman quality.

At this moment, a soldier walked into the clearing with a rag bag, and little George recognized it at a glance that the rag bag was used to hold food.

"Sir Bonaparte, it has been checked, and there is nothing suspicious in his belongings, only these things..."

The soldier walked up to Lawrence and reported respectfully, showing Lawrence the contents of the bag.

"Is this...?"

Lawrence endured the feeling of vomiting and looked carefully at the contents of the bag, especially the carcasses of the flesh and blood model voles, and couldn't help frowning and looking at little George and asked:

"What do you do picking up these things?"

Hearing this question, Little George's eyes instantly drooped, and he tugged at the corner of his clothes vigorously without speaking.

Seeing this, Major Trefali gently urged:

"Son, just tell me the truth, this is Governor Bonaparte."

Governor Bonaparte? Little George looked up at the young man on horseback.

He had heard from the people of the town that the Governor of Bonaparte was a successor whom was greatly appreciated by the Governor of Pauli, and that he was a benevolent and courageous ruler who was not inferior to the Governor of Pauli.

"Back to Lord Governor—" Little George came back to his senses after staring at Lawrence for a long time, and said intermittently:

"What's in the bag... It's food, it's food."

Hearing this, Major Trefali couldn't help but glance at the bag of foul-smelling vole corpses and gasped.

Major Cyrulière shook his head again and again, repeating in his mouth, "God, God..."

Even Zhou Wei's soldiers pursed their lips sympathetically when they heard this answer, they couldn't believe that such a thing could be stuffed into a human mouth.

Only a handful of Wehrmacht veterans with the same experience can understand this feeling,

Lawrence's face suddenly darkened, as the ruler of Corsica, it was a great shame to see his own people want to eat such things.

Major Trefali on the side looked at Lawrence's face and suddenly felt a chill run down his back.

In all his years of working with Lord Bonaparte, Major Trifali had rarely seen such an expression on the face of the Bonaparte, who was known for his calm composure.

His teeth clenched his lip until blood oozed, and Lawrence took a deep breath, calmed down, and asked as gently as he could:

"What about your parents, child."

"Lord Hui, dead, both."

"Then you don't have a place to make a living?"

"No, my lord," replied little George, shaking his head, in a whisper:

"I farm for a living, or... I make a living by farming for my lord."

Although he is no longer a free farmer, little George always likes to call his former land "my land", as if after a long time, he can return to the old time of living and working for himself.

"Sir?"

Hearing this answer, Lawrence's eyes instantly became sharp, and he couldn't help but ask in a cold voice:

"What kind of lease did your lord give you? How much harvest are you going to hand over to him?"

Little George was stunned for a moment, as if he didn't know how to answer this question, and after thinking for a long time, he shook his head and said:

"My lord, I don't know what the lease is, the harvest in the field belongs to the master, and I get a piece of black bread every day... But at Christmas and the old man's birthday, I can get an extra piece..."

"Shhhh

Major Trifali took another breath of cold air, then glanced cautiously at Bonaparte

The face of an adult.

I saw that Lawrence's face was already gloomy and dripping, and his hands were holding the reins tightly, and he even trembled slightly.

"That's enough, I already know."

Lawrence shook his head to himself and commanded in a loud voice:

"Someone! Fetch some food for the boy from the wagon, and give him a horse, so that he can follow me. Also, tell the whole army to speed up the march, and I will get to the town of Propriano before dawn!"

Little George sat blankly on the ground, completely unaware of what was going to happen.

…

At dawn, the army led by Lawrence reached the edge of the town of Propriano.

Before entering the city, one of the leading scouts suddenly returned to the formation and reported to Lawrence:

"Lord Bonaparte, the magistrate of Propriano, and a dozen influential local dignitaries greet you at the gates of the city, do you want to receive them?"

Lawrence nodded expressionlessly and ordered:

"Let the army first find suitable terrain in the suburbs and set up camp, and the cuirassiers will follow me into the city. And you will come with me."

Lawrence said, gesturing his hand at the two major lieutenants and little George trembling on horseback.

Soon, a group of murderous cuirassiers escorted Lawrence and the others to the city gate alone.

Sure enough, at the entrance of the city gate, the roads on both sides had been decorated with colorful flags in advance, and there were no idlers on the road, only a group of brightly dressed people waiting respectfully here.

Little George on horseback swept his gaze over the group of people, suddenly shrank subconsciously, and then quickly lowered his head.

Lawrence, who was on the side, glanced at him, frowned and asked:

"What's wrong, kid."

"I... My grandfather seems to be there."

Little George said with a shrunken voice, his head lowered even harder.

At the same time, in the procession welcoming the Governor of Bonaparte, a white-bearded and white-haired landowner looked at the scrawny boy in the procession in amazement, and muttered incredulously:

"Isn't that George?! How could he stay with Governor Bonaparte?!"