Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Chapter 9: Results (Requesting Monthly Tickets)

Before he knew it, it was already the tenth day since Joseph had taken over the police force.

The open ground in front of the Saint Antoine District police station was dusty, and over two hundred new police officers clad in neat blue uniforms, with wide-brimmed hats in blue and white, were sweating profusely as they wielded oddly-shaped weapons in practice.

These uniforms had been procured from military units stationed in the suburbs of Paris, costing Joseph several thousand “livres.” At present, police across France and even in Europe dressed at their discretion, with no standard uniforms. In terms of attire alone, the police of the Saint Antoine District were decades ahead of their peers.

When it came to the weapons and equipment for the police officers, Joseph did not choose muskets, as they were no different from fire sticks without half a year of rigorous training.

He did not even provide the force with a large number of swords, but instead had carpenters make over two hundred two-meter-long Y-shaped wooden forks. They also had shields shared between every two people; these items might look simple, but they were extremely practical. The security at airports and stations in later times used this set, which combined with specific formations, worked excellently for riot control.

These officers, coming from the lowest stratum of Parisian society, cherished their police identity enormously and trained for 10 hours every day without a single one complaining of fatigue.

Joseph watched the training ground with satisfaction. According to plan, from this noon on, this brand-new police force would start assuming responsibility for the security of the Saint Antoine District.

Of course, criminal cases were still to be handled by the original 60 veteran police officers of the force. As for those who paid for their positions, Joseph had basically assigned them to the logistics team, meaning they were in charge of chores like cleaning and transport, naturally earning the lowest pay.

Now there were 50 detectives, 236 patrol officers, and 125 individuals for miscellaneous tasks in the Saint Antoine District police station; it was quite a formidable force within the whole of Paris.

One should know that these over 280 main force officers were each brimming with energy and high morale, completely unlike the hoodlum air of other district police officers.

Moreover, these officers were truly capable of maintaining public order, a stark contrast to the old police force primarily engaged in extortion.

Especially in terms of responsibility, they were eight times as reliable as the former policemen.

It could be said that this was truly the police force in the modern sense!

Under the brilliant sun, and after having lunch, nearly three hundred officers left the police station in formation, shouting resounding slogans at Joseph’s command, officially taking over the duty of maintaining order in the Saint Antoine District.

In fact, they had already been patrolling in the district, knew exactly where trouble was likely to appear, and were rich in experience. Now with formal status and advanced management models, their ability to control crime had increased exponentially.

The citizens had long been informed, but aside from giving the police’s impressive uniforms a few more glances, they didn’t pay it much mind—what expectations could one have of the police in France?

On the east side of the Saint Antoine District, Oray Street.

Vulgar curses and roars echoed through a back alley.

Four or five burly men in black vests and felt hats cornered a middle-aged man against the wall, brandishing clubs and iron axes, “You dare to owe the Viper Gang money? Are you looking to die?”

The middle-aged man shrank in terror, “Gentlemen, I… I’ll pay next week! For the love of God…”

“You have already missed paying the protection fee three times this year,” a red-haired man sneered and signaled to his subordinates, “According to the rules, we need to teach you a lesson.”

“No! Please, no!”

Before the middle-aged man could finish speaking, one of the burly men in felt hats swung down a club fiercely onto his arm, instantly followed by the sound of breaking bones, accompanied by an inhuman scream of agony.

The red-haired man ground his foot into the twisted, pain-wracked figure on the ground, “Remember, next week. If you dare to delay again, it will be the other hand!”

He was speaking when suddenly four people in blue military uniforms and wide-brimmed hats appeared at the entrance of the alley, looking down at the groaning wounded on the ground.

The redhead recognized two of them and said casually, “Baptiste and Quirian? I heard you became police officers. Hmm, those uniforms fit you well.”

These two were former members of the civilian patrol, and they were quite familiar with the Viper Gang.

The redhead swung the knife in his hand: “I’m here collecting my dues, everyone get out of the way.”

The police officer named Quirian suddenly took out a whistle and blew it hard, then pointed at the group and shouted, “You’re committing an assault in broad daylight, I’m going to arrest you!”

He used to be a tanner who, in order to provide security for his family, had voluntarily joined the patrol and would patrol the vicinity from 6 PM to 11 PM. When encountering thugs like the Viper Gang, he would usually avoid them if possible.

But now he was a bona fide police officer, with a high salary of 35 livres a month. His wife and two children had white bread to eat every day, and every few days they could even have some meat, which was something he had only dreamed of before.

Now, there was only one thing he wanted to do: to do his utmost to maintain the security of his district and ensure a happy life for his family, and at the same time to repay the Crown Prince. Moreover, arresting more criminals would lead to better performance ratings, and the higher the performance, the higher the bonus!

He and the other three police officers shouted in unison, “In the name of the Crown Prince! Charge!”

The redhead snorted disdainfully and waved his hand at his underlings, “Teach these idiots a lesson!”

He was very confident; not to mention the patrol, even the police officers, in his view, were all bluster and no substance, timid and afraid of trouble, ready to flee like women at the sight of blood.

However, this time he was wrong.

Three of the police officers took off the two-meter-long Y-shaped wooden forks from behind them and stepped forward neatly. They used the forks to block two of the attacking Viper Gang underlings at the waist.

The head of the wooden fork was as wide as an arm, and one could hit the target even with closed eyes. It was the security device of the future—the riot waist fork.

Another police officer with a spear took advantage of the opportunity and stabbed a gang member in the foot.

A cry of pain went up as the man rolled on the ground clutching his foot. Nearby, another Viper Gang underling bared his teeth and glared, wildly swinging a short sword, but was blocked by the wooden fork and couldn’t reach the police.

The redhead was furious and took the lead in charging forward. Although there were four people on his side, they were blocked by the riot waist forks and couldn’t get close to the policemen even after a long time; instead, two more of his men were sneak attacked by long spears, hitting them in the lower legs.

The redhead felt extremely frustrated. The fighting skills he had honed through over a decade of blood and battle were of no use against the police officers’ strange formation.

This was the “Security Combat Method” taught to the police by Joseph, commonly used in stations and airports in the future. The technique prioritized holding the enemy at bay rather than killing, and it was conducive to self-defense.

More importantly, this combat method was simple and easy to learn; anyone could master it after just a week of practice.

The redhead was gritting his teeth so hard they could shatter, unable to fathom why the police officers were so tough today. Soon, he decided to give up—he himself had almost been stabbed—and decisively waved his hand and shouted, “Retreat!”

However, at a security booth half a street away, on-duty police officers had heard the whistle and immediately dispatched four people to provide backup.

When they arrived at the narrow alley, they ran head-on into the Viper Gang who were planning to escape. The leading police officer shouted “In the name of the Crown Prince,” and three riot waist forks were instantly positioned in front of them.

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