Chapter 141

More than ten minutes later, the horse bell rang.

A luxurious carriage, protected by dozens of cavalry, wandered lazily towards New Orleans.

This is the only road suitable for carriages to and from the barracks. The rest of the road is either steep, rugged or too narrow. The branches are easy to scratch the gold and silver decoration on the carriage and affect the appearance of the count's motorcade.

This is one of the reasons why count galvis hates New Orleans from the bottom of his heart.

The road condition is terrible!

Whether it's stone road or dirt road in the suburbs, his team can't run at all. So the short distance from the military camp to the boarding villa would waste his precious two hours every day.

If these two hours were spent on conscription, he could devote at least 200 more soldiers to the front line.

If these two hours were spent on the battlefield, the damn Englishman might have been driven out of Louisiana by him =

However, assumptions are assumptions.

As a noble and ambitious French aristocrat, he must not allow himself to spend the night in a humble military camp.

There is no delicious wine, no strong coffee, no gentle ladies and intimate servants by the bed, and the moisture in the tent will make his curly hair fluffy and difficult to take care of.

He cares more about winning gracefully than winning the war quickly.

Anyway, victory is always in his pocket. Count galvis is destined to be a hero in France!

Hero

The count raised his mouth.

In recent days, he coaxed away the messengers of the Duke of Richelieu and the count of Flanders. These two distinguished figures never thought that although he made a sincere promise, all this was just a delaying measure.

The defense of New Orleans is in the interests of the royal family.

Therefore, the count always has the support of his majesty Louis XVI and Queen Mary.

The queen even sent messengers to tell him that as long as they could ensure the victory of the New Orleans campaign and safeguard the important interests of the royal family in New France, the galvis family could ascend to the "French aristocracy", get rid of the sad circle of "ordinary aristocracy" and be on an equal footing with the big people who dictated to him.

At that time, can the messengers who pretend to be powerful still show off in front of him?

Even if dignitaries such as the Duke of Richelieu and the count of Flanders came in person, could they be ashamed to hold him accountable for his authority?

What he did was for the ultimate interests of France.

The count almost smelled the rich fragrance called prosperity!

He has paid too much for this fragrance. If it still ends in failure, will the galvis family in France be torn to pieces by those hungry wolves?

Once he stumbles and falls on the tip of the sword, he, the count of galvis, governor of Louisiana, will eventually be listed with countless charges and firmly nailed to the pillar of shame?

Life and death!

The count took a deep breath and suddenly began to miss Mrs. Kent's delicate body.

He pushed open the window, leaned out his head and was ready to urge the team to speed up. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a shaky green on the lower edge of the carriage.

More than a dozen fresh acorns were secretly tied to a silver ornament on the car wall. They blinked in the moonlight as the car gathered and scattered.

His anger flared up: "Al!"

The black slave who drove the car nervously turned back, blinked his big black and white eyes and asked innocently, "master, why are you angry?"

"I remember asking you to clean the carriage carefully before every trip. Have you really followed my orders?"

"That's inevitable, master!" Al hurriedly explained. "Before every trip, I will clean the carriage up and down, and even every decoration is wiped clean with cotton cloth. I dare swear to God that there will be no omission!"

The count repressed his anger, stretched out his hand and pointed to the acorn: "then where did it come from? Did you do the same before you came out of the barracks?"

"This bunch of acorns..."

"Do you want to tell me that this string of dirty things was hung up by a prankster farmer after we drove out of the military camp? Can the farmer approach my carriage in full view of dozens of guards and hang evil accessories called malice for me?"

Al's face was so black that his hand holding the reins began to tremble.

"Master... Master, believe me. I can assure you that this acorn is not there before we leave the barracks... As for why it appears there..."

At the thought that he might have become a laughing stock in New Orleans, the count's anger could no longer be tolerated and directly interrupted al.

"It seems that it has been seven days since I last whipped you? It seems that I am so tolerant of you that you dare to lie to me and let my carriage hang such a string of dirty things and be laughed at..."

"Master! Al has followed you for three years and has always been your most loyal servant. Even in the face of a sharp sword, I never flinch..."

Boom!

Without warning, a sudden gunshot exploded in the forest. The lead bullet crossed the branches, hit the shaking horse bell accurately from hundreds of meters away, and pierced a long scorch mark on the horse's neck.

The horse that ate the pain gave a long hiss and spread its legs to run on the bumpy road. The knights in front of the car hurried out of the way, while the faithful al screamed, subconsciously jumped out of the carriage, leaving the count and the unruly crazy horse running away happily on the road.

Everyone was stunned.

The head of the guard who was behind the car rushed up with his own guard and shouted, "who knows what happened! Tell me what happened!"

"It seems... We just suffered an unsuccessful assassination?"

"Assassinated?" the chief guard stared in horror. "Where's the count? Where's the count!"

Some of the Knights stretched out their hands numbly and pointed obliquely in the direction of the procession: "Sir, the count's carriage was frightened and just ran there."

"Then why are you doing this?" the captain of the guard raised his whip and suddenly saw Al grinning on the ground. "Al, why are you here? That is to say... The count doesn't have a coachman at all now?"

Al struggled to get up from the ground and quickly chose a big tree to hide: "Mr. Brano, although this is not the time to say this, but... Don't forget, there is a gunman hiding in the forest."

"Gunman!"

The captain of the guard was shocked, rolled off his horse and leaned his back against the tree.

"All hide! Hide behind the tree! There are hunters here!" he shouted at the flustered team. "I need several brave volunteers to protect the count! We are guards! It is our bounden duty to protect the count!"

"Tell the brave! Get on the horse!"