Life of Being a Crown Prince in France - Chapter 1252 - 1157: The Tsar’s New Policies

Chapter 1252: Chapter 1157: The Tsar’s New Policies

After Paul I ascended the throne, the quality of life for the Russian nobles began to decline, with officers being the hardest hit. On one hand, they had to pay more taxes, while on the other, their income sharply decreased.

Take this expedition to India as an example. Since the officers could not embezzle military pay, they could only reduce the procurement of logistical supplies, the bulk of which was oats for the cavalry horses.

After all, a horse doesn’t have a gun; no matter how hungry it gets, it won’t mutiny.

This supply shortage led to the already weakened horses starting to die in large numbers.

The Bakhov Corps, currently only 40 kilometers from the Afghan border, had already lost nearly 9,000 of the more than 15,000 horses it had.

The following morning, finally some good news accompanied the cold desert wind blowing into General Bakhov’s tent.

A major officer, with his head and face covered in sand, reported to him: “Commander, we have brought water and hard biscuits.”

Bakhov stormed to the tent entrance, kicked him to the ground, and angrily said, “Imbecile, these supplies were supposed to arrive four days ago! I will have the gendarmes investigate how much vodka you drank in Bukhara!”

The officer struggled to get up, spit out the sand in his mouth, and loudly defended himself: “You are mistaken, we came from Guryev!”

He pulled out his officer’s badge and shook it vigorously: “Guryev Infantry Battalion! We met your communications officer and learned that supplies were cut off here, so we detoured to Mashhad to procure these provisions.”

Guryev is the southernmost city in Russia, and by order of the Tsar, 1,000 infantrymen were dispatched to join the Bakhov Corps.

“Major Mitichkov?” Bakhov looked at the name on the badge, nodded to him awkwardly, “Uh, you’ve worked hard. I mistook you for someone from the Bukhara logistics group…”

Mitichkov shook the sand off his body and said casually, “We encountered a camel team yesterday; they mentioned that a bandit gang has been raiding in the Kara-Kum Desert recently. Could the logistics group have been delayed by them?”

“Bandits?” Bakhov sneered disdainfully, “How dare those little mice rob the army?”

Just as he finished speaking, he saw a Cossack cavalryman galloping over in panic, hoarsely shouting, “General, the supply convoy from Bukhara was attacked! We found a lot of wagon wreckage near Sheryakh…”

Bakhov was stunned.

His logistics group had at least 400 Russian soldiers and over 1,500 Bukhara laborers; what kind of bandit gang could plunder them completely?

He naturally couldn’t guess that the ones attacking the logistics convoy were troops dispatched by the Persian Shah, who had recently allied with Russia.

Because Persia was well aware of the movements of the Russian army, these soldiers, disguised as bandits, were able to hide near the Afghan border and emerge at the toughest moment of the Bakhov Corps’ desert crossing, dealing a fatal blow.

If not for Mitichkov bringing some supplies along, half of Bakhov’s men and horses would have died of thirst in the southern Kara-Kum Desert.

Indeed, Fatah Ali Shah had reached a secret agreement with the British Government as early as five months ago.

The British provided Persia with two thousand flintlock guns and tens of thousands of British Pounds in aid, while the latter promised to reignite the war for Georgia — the conquest of Transcaucasia had always been the dream of countless Persian rulers, and British support simply sped up the process.

As for the attack on the Bakhov Corps, it was just an added bonus from Ali Sha.

Weakening Russia a little would reduce the pressure they faced in Georgia in the future.

Under the shadow of a sand dune, Lieutenant Colonel Malaveyev carefully swallowed fresh water as if savoring fine wine. His attendant nearby handed him a hard biscuit wrapped around cured meat.

The lieutenant colonel raised the biscuit towards Mitichkov, “Thank Jesus you came. This bag of water is more than I’ve drunk in the past two days. After we win the war, you must come to Pokrovsk; I’ll treat you to the best vodka.”

“I will definitely go,” Mitichkov replied, taking a bite of the biscuit. Suddenly, he thought of something, “Is your home in Pokrovsk?”

“Ah, yes. I have an estate in Sanezic, filled with wheat and sunflowers…”

Mitichkov hesitated for a moment before leaning in slightly, “Um, I heard before leaving that there was a serf uprising in Pokrovsk. I hope your family hasn’t been affected.”

Malaveyev froze for a few seconds, then furiously whipped the sand dune with his whip, “Damn it! Those wretched creatures. When I get back, I’ll whip them all to death!”

“Ahem,” Mitichkov coughed softly, reminding him, “It’s no longer allowed to kill serfs.”

Malaveyev became even more enraged, randomly flailing his whip in the air, “Damn it, damn it!”

According to Paul I’s latest decree, nobles were prohibited from arbitrarily abusing serfs and certainly could not kill them; violators would have their lands confiscated.

Once the lieutenant colonel had exhausted his anger, he looked back at Mitichkov, “So, why are those ’non-humans’ causing trouble? Has the military been sent to suppress them?”

“Non-humans” was a habitual nickname nobles gave to serfs.

Major Mitichkov replied, “It seems to be related to the Emperor’s ’Three-Day Labor Proclamation.’”

“You know, nowadays we must pay administrative taxes; there’s no extra money to hire people. Do you expect us to draw water and collect dung ourselves?”

“As for the crops, they were never tended well, but now time must be set aside for serfs to care for their own land first!”

“Then some foolish liberals started ’supervising the implementation of the decree’ in the villages, and those low-born creatures thought they had backing, so they began causing trouble. I’ve heard two or three hundred people have already died…”

He finished this sentence and noticed the lieutenant colonel’s expression was off, so he quickly added, “But the Governor has already deployed troops and even borrowed the Shebriakov Corps from Uralsk. The rebellion is likely already quelled.”

The so-called “Three-Day Labor Proclamation” was one of the typical “spur-of-the-moment” decrees by Paul I.

It stipulated that Russian landlords could only have serfs work for them four days a week, and not on Sundays; the remaining three days were to be arranged by the serfs themselves.

This was an idea he conceived while he was Crown Prince — it could ease the burden on serfs without redistributing noble lands like France did; it seemed perfect!

He simply hadn’t considered that before Russia’s “cake” grew, taking a slice off the noble’s plate without a strong department to enforce it…

The nobles were bound to refuse the decree. When the serfs saw hope but couldn’t achieve it, any incitement would lead to an outbreak.

In fact, after Paul I’s “Three-Day Declaration” was issued, Russian serf uprisings skyrocketed from a dozen occurrences annually to over sixty.