Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

The over two thousand soldiers and officers on the Mars Field were all a bit dizzy.

A few days ago, they thought they were the most unlucky people in the world, inexplicably wrapped up in the assassination attempt on the Crown Prince, then subjected to scrutiny, and even believed they might be exiled.

But now, they felt like the luckiest people in the world, having mysteriously joined a new legion and been inspected by the Crown Prince himself. The Crown Prince had also announced a host of new regulations, giving them a future filled with hope.

If they weren't standing in formation right now, they would really want someone next to them to kick them, to verify that this was not just a dream.

After a good while, Joseph signaled for the soldiers to be quiet, and then continued to announce several rules concerning military achievements, consolation payments, retirement pensions, and even preferential treatment for the families of soldiers.

With the experience from before, the soldiers and officers were extremely excited, but they forcibly suppressed their emotions and maintained discipline at the scene.

Having finished talking about the military reform projects that directly affected the interests of the soldiers, Joseph took two small booklets from Bertier standing beside him, held them up, and waved them: "Other military discipline codes or systems will be distributed to each of you by your unit commanders later, so I will not repeat them here."

He put away the booklets, looked around at all the soldiers in the field, and said loudly, "No matter what your background was or what the number of your current unit is, within the legion, you can all call yourselves the Crown Prince's Guard Corps from now on!"

"Of course, you must also prove with your actions that you are worthy of this title.

"The training you'll undergo from now on will be even stricter, and the demands on you will be higher, but all this will bring you more honor. Anyone who feels they can't accept this can apply to leave later and go back to the—oh, what's it called now?"

Bertier hurriedly said softly on the side, "It's the Merit Corps, Your Highness."

Joseph nodded, "You can return to the Merit Corps at any time."

All the officers and soldiers present automatically disregarded this option.

Are you kidding, to give up a clear path to promotion, a salary that wouldn't be embezzled by officers, and a high consolation payment, to go back to the already rotten Merit Corps?

"Crown Prince's Guard Corps"—just the name sounded imposing; perhaps they would be directly promoted to the Royal Guard.

If anyone couldn't make that choice, they must be fooling themselves.

Is it just more training, stricter demands? That's nothing! Who hasn't suffered before becoming a soldier, whether as a farmer or a craftsman, and weren't those times more strenuous than now?

Little did they know, the Crown Prince loudly said, "The first challenge you will face is to prove that you are at least better than the police, better at fighting. Oh, no, not the police, but the as-yet-ungraduated students of the Paris Police Academy."

The officers and soldiers on the field all laughed inside. They were, after all, once the elite forces of France, daring to compete with the King's Guard.

And the police? What were they but ruffians and hooligans hired by the government, who had maybe undergone one police reform—could they even reach the heavens? If they couldn't even beat those guys, wouldn't that be a joke?

However, they would soon find out just how ridiculously wrong they were.

Finally, Joseph signaled to two officers nearby: "These are your paymasters. From now on, every month, they will bring people to deliver your salaries directly to you. If you have any problems with your salary, you can even write directly to me with complaints.

"Now, the paymasters will conduct your first pay distribution."

And so, amid the pleasant process of disbursing pay, the first inspection of the Crown Prince's Guard Corps came to an end.

The soldiers, counting the silver coins in their hands, all had faces blooming with joy.

The lowest tier of troop payroll had been raised from 13 livres to 15 livres, and sergeants had been bumped up from 17 livres to 20 livres.

Although the salary may not seem high, the soldiers were provided with food, lodging, and uniforms, meaning all of this money could be sent home and was more than enough to support a family of four or five.

After leaving the Mars Field, Joseph immediately headed to the Paris Police Academy.

Not even half a league out, he saw a military camp under construction, which would be the new grounds for his Guard Corps.

From the beginning, he had no intention of sending the corps back to Moretrowan Town. Half a month earlier, he had purchased a plot of land here and began constructing the campsite.

As for the issue of being away from the garrison, he had Colonel Bertier apply to the Minister of War for "extended training leave," and, after coordinating with the current Paris Legion stationed in Paris, no one else interfered.

On the training ground of the Paris Police Academy, Joseph, the academy's principal, mobilized the cadets for the "joint exercise" scheduled a few days later.

After the mobilization speech, he visited the office of the Provost Marshal to inquire about recent recruitment.

"There are currently more than 1,300 cadets in the academy?" Joseph asked Frient with a hint of surprise.

The latter nodded respectfully, "Your Highness, due to the Police Headquarters' assistance to Axel and his spouse, the number of people signing up for the academy has surged recently. If not for the lack of school buildings, we would possibly already exceed 1,500."

Joseph fell silent, as he had originally intended to instruct the academy to increase recruitment. It seemed that this was no longer necessary.

He then instructed Frient, "From now on, cadets may choose to become 'combat police' after graduation, or join the army. As for the army's systems and benefits, Colonel Bertier will have someone deliver the details to you.

"As for those who qualify in the Elite Class examination, they can take up direct commissions as officers."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Frient had already heard from the Crown Prince about the establishment of a combat police force.

It was essentially a team dressed in police uniforms, equipped with infantry weapons, and even provided with some cavalry. Their declared purpose was to combat vicious gangs, such as the Blood Blade Gang—those who dared to attack the Royal Family.

Two days later, the Crown Prince's Guard Corps welcomed over five hundred cadets from the Paris Police Academy to the Mars Field.

The two forces were to conduct a joint exercise, which was essentially a contest of military skills.

As soon as the cadets entered the field, they startled the guardsmen of the Guard Corps—their uniforms were crisp, their formations neat, and their presence impressive. Were these really a group of not-yet-graduated police cadets?!

What the guardsmen found most difficult to accept was that the cadets were armed with the latest model of Charleville 1776 flintlock guns!

It should be noted that even France's King's Guard had only started to replace their weapons with this model three years ago, and to this day, a third of its soldiers were still using the old model from the Seven Years' War—the 1763 flintlock gun.

And at the very back of the cadets' ranks, there were actually over 30 cavalrymen... oh, they should be more accurately called mounted policemen. Your next chapter is on m v|l-e'm,p| y- r