In the evening, in the town of central Ajaccio, in the villages around Propriano.

"Hey... Whew"

Little George struggled to carry two loads of olives along the forest path, preparing to transport the oil from the plantation to his backyard to dry.

Despite the ruggedness of the forest path and the hundred-pound weight on his shoulders, the sweaty boy had a bright smile on his lips and even hummed a cheerful country ballad intermittently.

After all, nearly a year has passed since Corsica officially introduced the land reform and agricultural tax reform, and little George, who has become a freeman, is no longer toiling for the landlords, and every drop of sweat he sheds now will become the fruit of his labor.

The boy looked much better than he had been a year ago, his cheeks were whiter and fatter, and he was no longer as pale as Lawrence had seen before, and his body, though still a little weak, was no longer as skinny as it had been.

It was not a panacea that brought about these changes, but simply because these serfs, who had survived under the oppression of the landlords, broke free from the shackles and took back the wealth that should have belonged to them and created by their own hands.

For the liberated freedmen, a short year has passed, and although their lives have not yet reached the point of abundance, at least they no longer regard survival as an urgent need every day, as in the past.

White bread and jam are no longer delicacies that can only be given by the landlords during the New Year's holidays, and many ordinary people can also bring a little oil and meat on the table.

As the first and most complete town to complete the two major reforms, little George living here can clearly feel this previously unimaginable change:

Last September, when officials from the Ministry of Finance arrived with Prime Minister Bonaparte's army to carry out land reform, George Jr. was assigned two acres of land and more than one acre of olive groves after registering his household registration.

However, at that time, little George was very melancholy about the land he was allocated, after all, although he had obtained the status of a free man, he was still a family with few bricks, and the cost of buying farm tools, seeds, and fertilizers was not a small amount.

In fact, this was the concern of many newly liberated freedmen at that time.

Fortunately, the Corsican Ministry of Finance was quick to take note of the problem, and Minister Cogiro quickly borrowed some of the funds from the Corsican National Silver Company, and the Ministry of Finance directly led the granting of low-interest or even interest-free loans to farmers in need.

By the end of September last year, George Jr. had successfully obtained an interest-free loan of nearly 500 livres.

At that time, he had never seen such a huge sum of money in his life, and he never imagined that the lord's government would distribute such a large amount of money to them, who were once as humble as ants.

After several days of excitement, the sensible boy calmed down and used the loan to buy the equipment and livestock needed for spring ploughing the following year, and to build a small oil mill in the courtyard of his farmhouse.

In the late spring of this year, when the olives in the forest farm first ripened, George Jr. used his own oil mill to produce several large barrels of good olive oil in addition to farming.

At first, George Jr., like many farmers, was worried about the sale of the olive oil, but when they sent their goods to the town's bazaar to sell, they were surprised to find that in less than half a day, a group of generous French merchants had bought more than half of the goods in the bazaar without bargaining.

Little George did not understand the Frenchmen at first, but only later heard from a knowledgeable scholar in the town:

There is a prosperous port city called Marseille in France, and the mayor of France recently issued a decree that the merchants of Marseille who import goods from Corsica will not only be exempted from import duties normally, but will also receive additional financial subsidies and other tax incentives from the town hall, so as to encourage the Marseille Chamber of Commerce to import products from Corsica; It is said that it was decreed by the municipal magistrate in order to curry favor with Bonaparte

Such a decree.

Little George did not know what customs duties were, nor did he know why the municipal magistrate wanted to curry favor with Bonaparte, except that the peasants and artisans now seemed to be completely unmarketable, including his own batch of olive oil, which was eventually sold to a French merchant dressed in gold and silver for far more than expected.

After getting his first income entirely owned by himself and at his disposal, little George still can't forget his excitement and excitement at that time.

He used the money to repay part of the loan, to have his farmhouse renovated, to buy two air-dried meats that he had dreamed of, and even to buy a warm set of cotton clothes for this winter.

It was only after all this that little George really felt in that moment that he was a free and dignified Corsican citizen.

As for the Bonaparte who brought about all these changes and had a relationship with him, little George sincerely believed that he could use his life to follow Bonaparte at any time, after all, it was the Lord who gave himself a new life.

Looking at the whole territory of Corsica, little George's experience in the past year is actually a microcosm of the thousands of emancipated serfs.

...

Still, despite living the life of his dreams, little George recently had a deep fear in his heart that he had heard that Corsica was at war with the neighboring kingdom of Sardinia.

The boy was convinced that Bonaparte would be able to lead Corsica to victory once again, as General Paul did, but there were many old men in the town who had seen the world and said that the kingdom of Sardinia was several times more powerful than Corsica, and that the war would be more than fortunate.

Especially yesterday, when George Jorge was working in the fields, he encountered a group of panicked Corsicans fleeing south, and he came to inquire only to learn that these were the citizens of Ajaccio who had fled to the south, and that the Kingdom of Sardinia had launched an attack on the capital Ajaccio.

As soon as he thought of this, Little George's expression suddenly became a lot heavier, and the cheerful ballad that lingered on his lips suddenly stopped.

Like millions of other Corsicans, he was anxious to know what was going on in the Ajaccio, especially for the freedmen who had only been freed for a year, and who would rather die than be enslaved by the Sardinians and return to their former life as slaves.

"If the Sardinians take Ajaccio, then I'll go to join the army! I'm not going to let everyone go back to the way they were!"

Walking down the dim and rugged forest lanes, little George was still absent-mindedly thinking about the war, and when he saw the Corsican army that had come to liberate him last year, the boy had already made up his mind that he would not hesitate to answer the call when Corsica needed him.

At this moment, he suddenly noticed that there seemed to be something strange on the road to the north—a large flock of birds were flapping their wings and rowing southward, and many animals were fleeing south as if frightened, and little George had seen a herd of deer flying through the forest and soon disappearing into the dense forest in the south.

Confused, the boy untied his shoulder and cautiously came to the edge of the hill and cliff, looking at the road that connected Ajaccio with Propriano:

I saw a procession of thousands of people marching slowly like a long dragon on the winding main road, and the torches in their hands stood out in the dim sky, so that little George could clearly see the whole picture of this procession.

Their formation was very loose, the distance between the leader and the back of the group was at least two miles, and the pace of movement was unusually slow, and many of them seemed to be exhausted, and every few steps they took had to sit in place and take a long breath.

"It's...!"

Little George was taken aback for a moment, and although he couldn't see the characteristics of the other party's clothing, he could instantly recognize that the team marching towards Propriano must be an army, and there was no chamber of commerce in the vicinity that could have such a large number of personnel.

It's just that this loose army is really poor compared to the orderly and well-organized Corsican army that George Jr. saw with his own eyes last year

It's too far.

"Is this the army of the Sardinians? How did they end up here ... Anyway, I'm going to have to inform the town of this right away!"

Little George swallowed hard, not daring to think much about it for a moment.

He threw the load of valuable olives on the side of the road, ran back to his house with all his might, and before he even had time to pack up his belongings, he immediately took out the mule used for pulling and grinding at home, put on the saddle neatly, and rode at full speed towards the town center without looking back.

...

Less than an hour later, inside the Propriano City Hall.

"You mean an army is heading here?!"

Constantine, the mayor with the nickname "Skinny Monkey", listened in shock as the panting boy in front of him recounted what he had seen with his own eyes on the northern roads.

"I see, go get some rest, kid, you look tired."

After knowing all the necessary information, the thin monkey Konstantin couldn't help but fall into a deep thought:

"The main force of the Wehrmacht is still in the south, and judging from the child's description, it is probably the army of the Sardinians attacking Ajaccio, so Ajaccio should be defending!"

Although it is assumed that the capital of Ajaccio has not been lost, the mayor's face is not much better at this time, after all, even a routed Sardinian army is definitely not something that the small town of Propriiano can resist.

Once the brutal Sardinians settled in the town, Constantine the skinny monkey could have predicted what hell the town, which had only enjoyed a year of prosperity, would become under the plundering of the Sardinians.

Thinking of this, the thin monkey Konstantin couldn't help but bite his lip tightly, and he didn't even notice that wisps of blood were oozing from between his lips.

A year earlier, when Bonaparte's army marched south to suppress the landlord rebellion, Constantine the Thin Monkey became famous for leading the serf soldiers in the ancient fortress to revolt and voluntarily leading the defenders of the fortress to surrender to the Governor of Bonaparte.

He was personally received by the Governor of Bonaparte and awarded a Blue Heart, to which only Corsican officers were entitled, and a large prize.

After the end of the war, the emaciated monkey Constantine moved to live in Propriano.

And with the promulgation of the "Kingdom of Corsica***" this year, the official positions of the local town halls are finally no longer hereditary as in the past, but are elected by the local voters themselves.

Constantine, the thin monkey, who became famous during the war and was regarded as a symbol of the serf's resistance to oppression, was enthusiastically supported by Propriano's fathers and villagers in the election, and was elected as the new city councillor.

From a former serf to a city magistrate, even Konstantin himself has not recovered from this huge class leap for a long time, after all, such a thing would have never happened before.

If the landlords heard that a serf wanted to become a city magistrate, they would laugh half to death and then put the fool in a pigsty for a few days.

Because of this, even though he had only been a city magistrate for a few months, Constantine the skinny monkey did not want to live up to the trust of the people here, and if he could exchange his life for Propriano from this catastrophe, he would not hesitate to agree to the deal.

"Damn, how is this going to be..."

Of course, there is no such convenient and fast transaction in reality, and the thin monkey Konstantin has to rack his brains to think, and now there is not much time left for him:

"Do you surrender to the Sardinians... Impossible, wouldn't that be an initiative to put yourself on the chopping block; But if there was direct resistance, it would be impossible to hold back that army with a militia of a few hundred men in the town; Or should we immediately inform the people of this news and lead the people to flee south?"

Although his reason told him that the least costly option at the moment should be to immediately lead the people to retreat south to seek refuge in the main force of the Wehrmacht, even this was the best solution

It will inevitably bring incalculable losses to the people in the vicinity, and their homes will most likely be ravaged and looted by enemy forces and turned into ruins.

The magistrate pondered and pondered whether there was any other way, and as early as his time as a serf, he was known in the village for his quick thinking and insight, which is why he was one of the first serfs to realize the defeat of the landlord group, and was the first to rebel.

"Judging from the child's description, the Sardinian troops look disorganized and demoralized, which means that they must have suffered a defeat at Ajaccio and chose to retreat south..."

The skinny monkey Konstantin propped his forehead hard, and his mind quickly recalled all the information about the war so far:

"The citizens who fled from Ajaccio also said that the Sardinians attacked from the sea around noon yesterday, and that it took almost half a day to get from Ajaccio to Propriano, which means that the army did not have time to rest after the defeat of Ajaccio, and rushed here without stopping...

And they were attacking from the sea, so this force certainly did not carry enough supplies either; The intensity of the fighting, the long march, and the lack of supplies, explained why the morale of this force was so low at the moment, and they must have come to Propriano to collect supplies..."

After sorting out the current situation, a desperate plan almost indistinguishable from suicide suddenly came to his mind—to teach this group of invaders a bloody lesson in this town!

Konstantin's body trembled slightly, he knew that his decision at the moment would determine the life and death of tens of thousands of people in this town, but after a very brief hesitation, the city magistrate still clenched his fists and chose to wait for the arrival of the Sardinians in this town.

Although he did not know what the overall direction of the war was, Konstantin was already vaguely aware that he could not allow the fleeing Sardinian army to regroup in this land without worry.

Once the Sardinian army regrouped in Propriano, the enemy force, no less large than the main force of the Wehrmacht, would inevitably become a major problem for Corsica.

After making up his mind, the thin monkey Konstantin no longer dared to delay even a second, and he immediately summoned the officials of the city hall and conveyed his order.

......

After almost an hour and a half, the sky was completely dark, and the night once again covered Corsica.

The Sardinian landing force, led by Colonel Butland, finally reached Propriano, the largest town in central Corsica, after an almost full day of intense marching.

"Whew... Whew..."

Colonel Butland was sweating profusely and panting, and even his military uniform was completely soaked with sweat, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the brightly lit town before him.

Since the landing attack was launched from the fleet, and Colonel Butland did not expect that they would be defeated at Ajaccio, this force did not carry any mounts at all, and even Colonel Butland, as the commander, did not have a single animal to walk on, so he had to march on foot like ordinary soldiers for a whole day.

To add insult to injury, the landing force relied on sea supply lines for logistical supplies, and they simply did not carry sufficient food and water themselves.

Moreover, when they fled Ajaccio in a hurry this morning, the unit was forced to use its limited carrying capacity to carry weapons and ammunition on the orders of Colonel Butland, and to abandon those precious dry rations in the port of Ajaccio.

This directly led to the low morale of this army at the moment - almost all of the more than 6,000 soldiers were hungry and exhausted, and half of them had not eaten a loaf of bread since noon yesterday.

And they had to endure such never-ending hunger all day today on the rugged paths of Corsica, many soldiers were left behind the large army due to physical exhaustion, and even some of the wounded could not withstand such a long march at all,

Directly halfway through, he closed his eyes forever and fell to this foreign land.

The soldiers who were able to follow Colonel Butland after a day and a night of bloody fighting and a full day of high-intensity marching were basically at their physiological limits at this moment.

Even the colonel himself was embarrassed and unkempt at the moment, with a noticeable dark circle around his eye sockets, and even his eye sockets were deeply sunken, like a haggard patient with terminal cancer.

The reason why he fled south in such a hurry, not daring to take a moment of rest and recuperation, was also because he was afraid of the sudden appearance of the French Mediterranean fleet, and no one could say whether the French fleet was full of French soldiers who had gone to Corsica to fight.

The march and retreat until evening, when it was confirmed that there was no enemy pursuit in the direction of Ajaccio, Colonel Butland breathed a sigh of relief, and ordered his soldiers to hold on a little longer, and they would soon be able to settle into a bustling town to rest.

Standing at the edge of the town, Colonel Butland was about to order his men to enter, when he saw a group of scouts who had gone ahead turn back and report:

"Sir, there is a group of people waiting on the road ahead with a dozen fully loaded wagons, claiming to be local city officials, welcoming us under the leadership of the city officer."

"Welcome? It's kind of interesting, let them come over."

Colonel Butland grinned, it seemed that the Corsican hillbillies had also heard of the prestige of the Kingdom of Sardinia, but he did not let his guard down, so he did not rush there, but ordered the soldiers to bring them to him after examination.

Although the Colonel did not believe that a town guarded by a few hundred militiamen at most would dare to rebel against his army, Colonel Butland did not want to make a fuss if the other side did have some intrigues.

Soon, led by Constantine the thin monkey, a group of city officials arrived in front of Colonel Butland in a carriage full of goods.

Before the colonel could speak, the soldiers around him immediately looked straight at the carriages, which were full of sacks and clay pots, full of bread and soybeans, and the clay pots smelling of wine.

The food and drink were not a delicacy, but for the hungry Sardinian soldiers, they would have been eager to jump into the wagon and eat now.

Even Colonel Butland could not help but taste the aroma of the wine, which was nowhere near as good as the champagne and brandy he drank at the banquet in Turin, but in his physical and mental exhaustion, even these sour wines were better for him than all the good wines in the world.

"Greetings to you, honorable generals, and all the military masters."

Constantine, the thin monkey, took a few steps forward and bowed humbly and respectfully:

"I'm the mayor of this town, you can call me Konstantin."

"You're the mayor here?"

Colonel Butland swallowed, and turned his gaze from the wine cans to the dark-skinned, unattractive man in front of him, and made no secret of the contempt and superiority in his eyes:

"Corsica is really the only uncivilized place in Europe where you can be a city magistrate, and I think you look like a monkey."

In the face of this blunt humiliation, Konstantin laughed heartily, and cooperated like a circus clown in a trumpet-scratching motion:

"Hahahaha, what the general said is really right, the people here call me a skinny monkey."

Konstantin already looked like a monkey, and with this funny action, Colonel Butland was suddenly amused and couldn't help but laugh for a while.

"And, indeed, as you say, this is a wild land where birds don't, and it is not comparable to the rumored rich and elegant plains of the Po River in the Kingdom of Sardinia."

Constantine the thin monkey then complimented, and even his voice was ridiculously shrill and comical, like a boy in an opera:

"So when we heard that the mighty army of the Kingdom of Sardinia was coming to this town, it was true

Honestly afraid, I specially prepared some food and wine for the military masters to enjoy; There are also some reserves in the town warehouse, and if you feel that it is not enough, you can use it to your heart's content; If you want to spend the night here, it will be an honor for me to wait, I have already ordered people to prepare enough houses in advance, although I dare not say how comfortable it is, but it is certainly much better than sleeping in the wilderness."

As soon as they heard that there was enough food, drink, and indoor accommodation, the eyes of the emaciated soldiers around them lit up instantly, and they wanted to press the mouth of their own chief officer to make him quickly agree.

Colonel Butland, on the other hand, squinted slightly, and did not completely relax his vigilance, and Konstantin's flattering appearance always made him feel that something was wrong:

"Oh? I've never heard of such Corsican hospitality."

"Hahaha doesn't mean complete hospitality, honorable general." Konstantin didn't seem to see Colonel Butlan's concerns, and laughed loudly:

"As the mayor of this place, I do have a reluctant request... The people here are as ignorant as you have heard, but they will never dare to offend you in the slightest, and if there is any misunderstanding and conflict later, please raise your noble hand and let go of those ignorant fools."

"Ahh I see."

Colonel Butland's apprehension faded a lot, and although Konstantin said it was very subtle and flattering, Colonel Butland instantly understood what he meant—the municipal magistrate wanted to offer supplies to the Sardinian army in exchange for the army not to kill and plunder in the area.

Knowing the man's flattering motives, Colonel Bartland ceased to be so vigilant, and immediately ordered his soldiers to inspect the food and liquor in the wagons, and after making sure that they had not been poisoned, he accepted the monkey-like mayor's offer.

As the saying goes, Colonel Butland wanted to boost the low morale by allowing his subordinates to loot and loot in the town, but since the city magistrate was so knowledgeable about the times, and the soldiers themselves were tired enough, the colonel decided to let the people here go for a night.

After all, if the Sardinian army wants to use violent means to collect these materials, it is estimated that it will take a lot of effort.

Of course, Colonel Butland was not going to keep this promise forever, and when his troops had finished recuperating here, he planned to indulge his men in the slaughter of the town, in order to boost morale and prepare for the breakout from the main forces of the Corsican Wehrmacht and the return of Sardinia through the southern straits.

Within a few moments, Konstantin and a group of Sardinian soldiers entered the town.

Constantine, the thin monkey, even took the trouble to bring a tall horse for Colonel Butland, and after nodding and saddling the commander on his horse, he personally invited the spirited Colonel Butland and his cronies to the best room in the town hall.

As for the more than 6,000 soldiers of the Sardinian army, they were scattered to live in vacated houses in all corners of the town, led by the municipal officials.

At first, some of the Sardinian non-commissioned officers complained about why they didn't let their entire army live in the same area, but as the city officials presented food and wine to the thirsty soldiers, their complaining mouths were soon filled with bread and wine.

A few hours later, at midnight, the town of Propriano, which had been in turmoil because of the arrival of the Sardinian soldiers, finally returned to peace.

In a matter of hours, the soldiers devoured countless amounts of bread and hundreds of jars of wine, and many of them, after they had eaten and drunk, did not settle down, but took advantage of the wine to cause trouble in the streets of the town, and even rushed into the houses in groups to loot the women to their own quarters.

Constantine, the municipal magistrate who learned of this, was accompanying Colonel Butland to a feast.

He complimented the commander on his good manners, and then made a vague mention of the atrocities committed by the Sardinian soldiers in the town, and asked Colonel Butland to keep the agreement and ordered that the soldiers should not leave their dwellings.

Colonel Butland was already flamboyant with a flamboyant Conse

Tandin was very pleasantly complimented, and he was in the midst of a drunken pleasure, so he readily gave an order that all the soldiers should stay in the house for the night and rest, and that no one should go out and cause trouble.

After midnight, the Sardinian soldiers, who had been marching for two days and one night, finally fell asleep in a boundless sleepiness, and thunderous snoring could be heard clearly even around the area where the soldiers lived.

Colonel Butland, who lived in the town hall with his cronies, also fell asleep soon after the feast, and although he did not personally fight the Corsicans, it was also a great drain to command a legion of thousands of men at all times, not to mention that he had not closed his eyes for two days and one night.

...

"Whew... Call... Huh?"

Colonel Butland, who was asleep, suddenly woke up, and sat up from the bed, his face full of suspicion, and the hangover was most of gone.

As a front-line officer for many years, the slightest hint of wind and grass could wake him up from his slumber immediately, and he faintly heard a cacophony of footsteps, as if a large group of people had just rushed into the town hall.

He sat on his bed and listened intently, and soon confirmed his senses, that it was indeed a growing sound of footsteps in the town hall, and that the sound was rapidly increasing in his ears, as if it were about to reach the door of this room.

Colonel Butland picked up the lampstand beside his bed, and was about to get up to investigate, when he saw that the door of his room had been violently kicked open, and the thick wooden door had slammed against the wall with a loud clang:

"Hold your hands tied! You shameless invader!"

A loud cry exploded in the colonel's ears like thunder, completely wiping out the last vestiges of his sleepiness, and even making him almost miss the lampstand in his hand.

With the help of the flickering flames, Colonel Butland saw the man standing outside the door and drinking at him—it was the monkey-looking magistrate Konstantin whom he regarded as a clown for amusement.

But Konstantin at this time was completely no longer as flattering and funny as he had been a few hours ago.

He held the knife in his right hand and stared angrily at Colonel Butland, who had not yet come to his senses, and the snow-white and sharp face of the knife could even clearly reflect Colonel Butland's frightened and dazed eyes.

The dozen or so people standing behind Konstantin also stared at Colonel Batland, they were not uniformly dressed, they looked no different from ordinary townspeople, and even the weapons in their hands were varied, some with muskets, some with swords, and even some with pitchforks and rushed into the town hall with Konstantin in their hands.

It was clear that these were not serious soldiers, they were either militia members of the town, or they were simply a group of townspeople who had gathered improvisely.

Colonel Butland was more at a loss than frightened, he did not understand what such a rabble was rushing to him with weapons in hand, even if his army had just suffered a defeat at Ajaccio, it was only a matter of his words to reduce the town to ruins:

"Konstantin! What the hell are you doing?"

Konstantin walked into the room with a knife and directly forced Colonel Butland into the corner of the room with the blade in his hand:

"Shut your mouth and squat down with my head in my hands!"

Colonel Butland's pupils shook, and he couldn't accept that this clown dared to talk to him like this, and he couldn't help but grit his teeth and shout angrily:

"You monkey! Don't you know what the end of this will be?! I hope you're prepared!"

"I'll give you this question as it is."

Konstantin mercilessly pressed the tip of his knife against Colonel Butland's nose, which was even stained with a little blood red:

"Invaders, did you ever think about what would happen to you when you set foot on Corsican soil? I hope you are also mentally prepared to fall into the sea of the Corsican people's war."

Free to read.