The dawn of dawn reflected on the eastern land, dragging Lawrence and the cuirassiers' shadow Lawrence Bonaparte into sharp lines on the ground.

Twenty or so magistrates, landlords, and a few wealthy merchants in pursuit of political influence, lined up in a neat little phalanx, waited respectfully at the entrance to Propriano like soldiers under review.

Each of them bowed their heads obediently, daring to roll their eyes only occasionally and observe the murderous cavalry guards about fifty meters away, and the young governor on a white horse surrounded by cavalry.

Even the most dull person understands that in Propriano, a small town just over sixty miles from Ajaccio, Lawrence Bonaparte and his army are the masters of all life.

The local magistrate, a bearded man dressed in a traditional Corsican robe, lifted the hem of his shirt nervously, turned his head to wink at the crowd, and then led the dignitaries forward.

The mayor took the lead and stepped forward, stopped a dozen paces from Lawrence, bent down respectfully and flatteringly, and said in a high-pitched voice similar to that of an opera:

"Await your majesty, Lord Governor."

The nobles behind him also hurriedly followed suit, and bent their arrogant ridges in front of the famous governor as a gesture of goodwill.

Listening to this loud chorus, little George on horseback subconsciously shivered.

How could a serf sit comfortably on a tall horse and look down on the old men, and accept their bending to greet him?

Especially in that group of people, there is also their own master, Master Custard.

Although little George was full of hatred for this white-bearded old man who took away his own land, when he thought of the beatings he had been beaten by Master Custard over the years, little George still felt a burst of heart and couldn't help but shrink back.

[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 it is."

Hearing this, there was immediately a small commotion in the welcoming procession, and people turned their heads to look at Master Custard one after another, and their complicated eyes mixed with doubts and schadenfreude were projected on this gray-haired little old man.

No one knew how the Governor had followed a local serf boy, and no one knew why the Governor had come up to ask about this serf.

But it was clear to all the men present that, judging by the chilling grimness of Bonaparte's countenance, it was not a good thing to happen.

Master Custard shuddered, walked out of the line under the supervision of the city officer's eyes, walked tremblingly to Lawrence Horse, took a deep breath and said:

"My Lord, I'm Custard Abayr, a lord of a manor here, but I'm most proud of my status as your humble servant and follower..."

Before he could introduce himself slowly, Lawrence directly waved his hand impatiently to interrupt, pointed to little George and asked:

"Alright, you know this boy, right?"

The old man looked closely at the little George on horseback, and the child's hole projected unease and fear that he had never seen before, he thought that he would never show such a look in front of a serf.

"It's... Your Excellency the Governor..."

After hesitating for a while, Master Custard gritted his teeth, nodded and admitted:

"I'm his employer, he's been working on my estate for many years... Is there anything wrong with me lawfully employing him, paying him wages, and providing him with food and fields, Your Governor?"

"Really?"

Lawrence narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at Master Custard, his right hand was already on the handle of the saber, and then he turned his head to look at little George and asked:

"Is that what happened?"

The poor boy was stunned for a few seconds, he never thought that he would one day speak out in such a big scene.

At this moment, he suddenly remembered what Major Trefali had said when he was stroking him.

Is this army really here for me?

George Jr. wasn't sure, but he knew deep down that this was the only chance to change his tragic fate.

"No, my lord!"

Little George, whose mind was blank, subconsciously shouted, and the voice mixed with more than ten years of grievances and resentment surprised everyone, including Lawrence:

"He didn't pay me anything! All I could get from my hard work day and night was a piece of brown bread every day! He didn't even offer me any land, which was my father's land..."

In the huge open space outside the city gate, only the cry of little George full of grievances echoed, and even the cicadas at the end of summer seemed to be faint under this cry, as if all the grievances of the past ten years had been shouted out.

The face of the old man Custard was as pale as lime, and the rest of the landlords, including the city magistrates, had almost the same expression, after all, their manor was almost full of serfs like Little George.

Even the merchants who had stayed out of the way looked at Lawrence's army in horror, wondering what the Doge was going to do.

"Lord Governor, I think there must be some misunderstanding here."

The clever magistrate knew that he could not let the damned serf continue to cry, so he took the initiative to regain the conversation and said in a loud voice:

"Monsieur Custard was a well-respected lord of our town, and in his youth he served in the army with the Governor of Pauli, shedding his blood for the liberation of Corsica. There must have been some misunderstanding between him and this young man, and I swear I'll send someone to find out, Lord Governor, and let us go into the city, where there is a great banquet to welcome you."

Seeing that the city magistrate hurriedly stepped forward to play the round, Lawrence only sneered.

As a politician who could talk and laugh in Paris with the Duke of Choiseul and Lord Mopp, how could Lawrence not hear the meaning of the municipal magistrate.

He seems to be humbly playing the round, but in fact he is threatening himself in a gentle way, this one

The real thoughts of the municipal councillor should be:

"This lord is a representative of the landlord class here, and a revolutionary hero who has followed the governor of Pauly, if Lord Bonaparte wants to cut him, I am afraid that he will have to consider whether such an act will make a large number of people cold."

Everyone present is also a well-informed person, they may not have fully guessed the threat hidden in the words of the city magistrate, but they also know that the fate of Master Custard is a microcosm of their own fate, so they must stand with Master Custard at the moment.

Although there was no communication, the landlords soon reached a tacit agreement, and asked Lawrence to skip this trivial matter:

"Your Excellency the Governor! Mr. Custard is a good man, and we can all testify to that."

"That kid must have some misunderstanding about Mr. Custard, I'm sure Mr. City Officer will be able to find out."

"Monsieur Bonaparte, Monsieur Custard was once a member of the Wehrmacht, don't you believe in the virtues of a Corsican soldier?"

"Let's hurry into the city for a feast, Lord Governor, and there's no need to waste time for a small peasant."

……

Everyone was talking about it, and their voices changed from a small pleading at the beginning to a loud shout at the back, and it was obvious that these landlords who had gathered together gradually had the confidence and confidence to fight against Lawrence.

Although they are rural people, they also understand that Corsica today is polarized.

These landlords naturally thought that the governor of Bonaparte would treat him well, and that he would be treated favorably in exchange for the support of the hesitant landlords in the south.

Seeing the support of his colleagues, Master Custard couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, although he was still patting his chest with some fear, but his tone was no longer as fearful and humble as Fang Cai:

"Lord Bonaparte, I'm sorry that my men have troubled you, but as Mr. Mayor's said, he will investigate the matter. Now leave the kid alone, we've got the best ale for you..."

With that, Master Custard even put on a flattering smile as he walked over to Little George's horse, ready to cross Lawrence and fetch the damned serf.

Listening to these noisy requests, Lawrence, who was already suppressing his anger, felt a rage again, and pulled out the saber at his waist and danced a knife flower in the air with one hand.

The blade decorated with gold dust pointed directly at the approaching Custard after cutting a graceful arc, scaring the white-haired old man directly in place.

"Enough, gentlemen, stop playing your clumsy tricks."

Lawrence pointed a knife at Master Custard and the nobles behind him, and his voice was cold:

"Someone! Take down Custard for me first."

Captain Mattia, the captain of the cavalry, immediately stepped forward, turned over and dismounted beside Master Custard, and tied the hands of the old man, who was still trembling, behind his back.

Little George on horseback stared wide-eyed as he watched the usually majestic old man now being caught in front of him like a weak sick cat.

"Wait!" Seeing this, a landlord hurriedly stepped forward and asked anxiously:

"Dare to ask Mr. Custard what he is charged? Your Excellency the Governor!"

Lawrence glanced at the man coldly, and slowly put the knife into its sheath:

"I have enough reason to suspect that Mr. Custard is suspected of property fraud, intentional injury, and slavery, are these charges enough?"

The landlord was speechless for a moment, endured the cold sweat on his back, lowered his head and obediently returned to the team.

In Corsica, the word of the governor is law.

The landlords watched palely as Master Custard was escorted to Lawrence by Captain Mattia in silence like a walking corpse, which was definitely not what they had expected.

They imagined that Governor Bonaparte would accept the warm welcome with a smile, and after getting drunk at the banquet, he would wave a large sum of money to win the hearts of the people.

And now what is in front of them is not a mountain as imagined

of the silver coin of Liver, but Lawrence's knife with dozens of vicious cuirassiers.

"Your Excellency the Governor—" The city magistrate turned his head to look at the terrified landlords, and stepped forward:

"Now that you've decided that you want to interrogate Mr. Custard first, we won't bother you..."

As he spoke, the city magistrate turned half of his body and prepared to lead everyone out of this land of right and wrong.

And just as everyone was wiping cold sweat and lifting their trembling thighs to leave, Lawrence's trembling voice sounded in their ears again:

"Wait, I said can you go?"

As soon as the words fell, dozens of cuirassiers galloped towards the landlords in smoke and dust, forming a circle to surround them.

Hearing a plop, a timid landlord fell directly to the ground, he had never seen such a scene since he was a pampered child, and even the crotch of his silk trousers showed a water stain.

Little George watched in amazement as the figures who had been invincible in the area sat on their knees in despair surrounded by cavalry, which he had thought would only happen in a dream.

Somehow, little George felt the corners of his eyes suddenly moisten, and two lines of tears quickly ran down his grime-covered cheeks.

"Gentlemen, I suspect that you are on the same charges as Mr. Custard, so please cooperate."

Lawrence calmly pronounced the fate of all present, then turned to Major Trefali and whispered:

"Call Mr. Coggiero, his Treasury is going to be busy."