Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Chapter 1590: Chapter 1496: All Is Well

The crowd stopped thirty to forty meters away, the air tense as if it might snap.

"Don’t be afraid, let’s rush in!"

"Get out of the way, tyrant’s minions!"

"Hand them over!"

Someone in the crowd began picking up stones and throwing them at the high wall, and the Empire soldiers immediately raised their guns in perfect unison towards them.

"Don’t be reckless!" A hoarse voice sounded in the crowd, "These guys will really shoot."

Adorno turned his head and saw a man in his forties, wearing a worn-out military uniform, limping and squeezing through.

He remembered the scene at the cafe that day and clenched his fist, "Are we not going to care about Mr. Stephens?"

The old soldier pointed to the cannons on the Hofburg, "We also need those things; otherwise, charging in will just be sending people to death."

A nobleman nearby scoffed, "I look forward to you mobilizing the Guard Artillery Battalion."

The old soldier ignored him and lowered his voice, "In the Royal Armory, there are countless cannons. I moved shells there, very familiar with the inside."

A young noble interrupted him, "Don’t be stupid, there are guards there too."

"Yes, there are indeed," the old soldier smiled, "but only a hundred or so."

The young noble was somewhat surprised, "How do you know?"

The old soldier turned to look at him, "At the end of last month, a large convoy left Vienna, perhaps you noticed. It was delivering ammunition to Switzerland."

"According to the norm, the armory must send people to escort it to Klagenfurt, only returning after handoff. Now, there is only one company there, and some officers."

The crowd began to stir, then follow the old soldier, surging eastward.

On the terrace of Hofburg, Count Rinek smugly told the officer beside him, "See, just a little scare, these lowly people will immediately flee."

If Major Latour at the Royal Armory two streets away heard his words, he’d likely curse him as a "fool" in his mind.

The protesting crowd did not realize that a hundred guns were still guns.

When they saw the dark gun barrels, they involuntarily halted.

The old soldier waved his hand glaringly, "Everyone rush up together, they can only shoot twice, won’t hit many people!"

The crowd moved a few steps forward, then stopped.

Adorno’s ears were filled with cries of "For freedom and equality," or "We want Congress," but at the moment, his mind was only occupied with Karen’s cold arm, and her most cherished small copper jug.

"I’ve had enough!" he suddenly roared, desperately charging towards the pitch-black doors.

Gunfire immediately erupted, lead bullets creating a spiral of dust beside him, yet none surprisingly hit him—the soldiers handling logistics usually had minimal training, their marksmanship very poor.

Adorno just kept his head down, frantically moving his legs, and kept silently chanting in his heart: Don’t be afraid! Don’t be as cowardly as in the cafe!

Those who saw him unharmed were inspired, and rushed up one after another.

And they incited even more people.

Outside the Royal Armory emerged a roar like ocean waves, nearly ten thousand people shouting as they rushed towards the armory, ceaselessly hurling stones at the guards.

Just as the old soldier said, the armory’s soldiers fired only two shots, then fearfully threw down their guns and fled backwards.

The armory’s walls weren’t very high—it’s merely a warehouse, not a fort—Adorno often climbed tree trunks over ten meters high in the lumber workshop; now, using both hands and feet, he swiftly scaled the wall, then turned to pull up a young man.

An hour later, the Royal Armory was already crowded with protesters, the air filled with the sounds of rejoicing.

Under the old soldier’s signal, Adorno and others pried open several warehouse doors together, revealing neatly stacked wood boxes, and a vast number of gleaming cannons.

In Hofburg, Count Rinek, while considering what to have for dinner, heard the noise outside starting up again, irritably walked towards the window, "God, what’s happening now?"

In the next moment, his eyes widened, "Damn..."

He saw three Eight-Pound Cannons, surrounded by a group of rabble continuously tinkering with them.

Well, Adorno and his group couldn’t find suitable horses, they could only haul the Eight-Pound Cannons.

"Marek!"

Count Rinek hurriedly turned and shouted for his captain, but the response was a deafening boom.

The shell hit somewhere, causing him to stumble, closely followed by the second, the third...

The soldiers guarding Hofburg did not counterattack with cannons.

As Lucas said earlier, the protesting crowd might have their parents or brothers among them.

Moreover, many of them have embraced Liberal ideas—

The more the government cracks down on Liberals and bans such books and publications, the more curiously people react, to the extent that now freedom and equality have become an underground fashion.

Finally, under the operation of several veteran soldiers, a shell hit Hofburg’s door. Half of the metal door broke off like a piece of paper and rolled several meters away from the door frame.

Count Rinek never expected the rebels to act so quickly; by the time he gathered his guards to escape, it was too late.

Just as he reached the stairway, he ran headlong into dozens of armed civilians.

These people had clearly gone berserk, and seeing Rinek and his fellows in military uniform, they haphazardly fired at them.

After Count Rinek was shot in the neck by lead bullets, someone shouted, "Where is Mr. Stephens being held?"

By now, Count Rinek couldn’t hear anymore.

Unable to find Stephens, the crowd turned back to Hofburg’s main hall, lifting Count Rinek’s corpse as their biggest trophy, cheering loudly, "The tyrant’s minions are dead!"

"This guy deserved it!"

"Carry him out, let more people see!"

A few people tried to move the body, but found Rinek’s head was barely attached to the shoulders, so a butcher just sliced it off directly.

Another large man took the head, casually pulled off the Habsburg flag on the stairway, and mounted it on the flagpole.

Someone recognized Adorno, pointing and shouting, "This is our hero; he was the first to rush into the armory!"

The man holding Rinek’s head came over, thrusting the flagpole into Adorno’s hand, "This is the honor you deserve!"

Twilight.

In Schonbrunn Palace, Franz II sat at his desk, satisfied, glancing at the quiet outside the window—most of the protestors had gone to Hofburg, only about 3,000 were here now.

He recalled Marshal Ussum’s report this afternoon that the Moravian Legion would enter the city by the latest tomorrow morning, feeling relieved.

He picked up the quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote in the diary: 21st. Friday. Everything is fine.