Life of Being a Crown Prince in France-Chapter 518 - 430: The Initial Settlement of North Africa (Two-in-One Chapter)_2

However, because the goods were highly valuable, there were also more escorts. According to that merchant, the Italian caravan had hired the French regular army for protection, with a force that might have been over one battalion, or nearly 2,000 men.

The officer immediately transported the plunder back to the town, and sent word back to Tripoli City.

In the white palace of Tripoli, Ben Guerir’s eyes lit up when he heard that goods worth up to 700,000 Rials would be landing at Tetouan.

700,000 Rials, which amounted to over 15 million livres! That was an amount no warlord could resist.

Especially since the British had only paid a small portion of the "benefit" they had promised, 100,000 British Pounds, and then suddenly there was no follow-up, it was nearly a death sentence for him.

His army was sent from Istanbul, and if he couldn’t provide them with enough benefits, they wouldn’t mind replacing him with one of their own as the Pasha of Tripoli—this was a tradition within the Ottoman Imperial Guard, who had even replaced the Ottoman Sultan several times.

After a brief hesitation, Ben Guerir made up his mind to personally lead 6,000 soldiers, along with 2,000 from the Town of Remada, to rob the Port of Tetouan.

He had recently received news that the main force of the French Army was more than 400 miles away at Annaba and fighting against the People of Algiers, which meant that there were only these fewer than 2,000 troops near Tetouan.

And the Port of Tetouan was only about 70 miles from Tripoli City, a journey that could be completed in a week if hurried.

With his force of 8,000, he was confident of a sure victory in this surprise attack.

Once he had seized the 700,000 Rials in goods, he planned to bribe the higher-ups in Istanbul with a portion of the loot, then retreat with the rest to Tripoli City. If things turned sour later, he would leave the defense to his subordinates and flee back to Istanbul to enjoy his spoils.

Four days later.

Ben Guerir looked back over the barren wilderness behind him, his excitement barely containable. They were already within Tunisian territory. His scouting Cavalry had reported that they had not seen any trace of army forces all the way to Medjez.

And according to the Tripolitanian navy, a large merchant fleet had indeed set sail from Genoa, heading south not long before.

Regarding the convoy of ships, Moro didn’t even bother to fabricate anything—the Mediterranean trade was flourishing, and countless merchant ships passed between Italy and North Africa every day. Ben Guerir naturally would "claim" one of the fleets as his own target.

As Ben Guerir’s troops approached a hilly area near Medjez, they suddenly heard chaotic shouting coming from ahead.

He frowned and turned to an officer nearby, "What’s happened?"

The marching column was too long; he was in the middle rear of the troops, nearly two kilometers away from the vanguard.

Before the officer could dispatch Cavalry to reconnoiter, Ben Guerir faintly heard a burst of intensive gunfire.

Having some battlefield experience, he immediately guessed that it was at least a thousand enemy soldiers firing in unison.

Where had these enemies come from? He hastily ordered the troops to form a defensive line where they stood and personally organized the Cavalry to prepare for battle.

However, before his Cavalry could gather, the ground began to tremble slightly, followed by the sound of hooves hitting the ground like a sudden downpour on a roof.

All the Ottoman soldiers stood frozen, looking towards the direction the sounds were coming from. Soon, a mass of Cavalry dressed in white uniforms emerged from the distant hills, charging forward while waving their sabers.

In front of the Ottoman army, Ney was commanding more than 2,000 soldiers in a line infantry formation, advancing methodically step by step towards the enemy.

Thanks to adequate preparation time, he had finally managed to get these fresh recruits to form a neat line.

In the era of the flintlock gun, marching columns stood no chance against well-formed line infantry, not even if Frederick the Great himself were resurrected.

After only three very disorganized volleys, the Ottoman soldiers began to scatter and flee.

At the same time, Moro and his thousand-plus Cavalry had broken through Ben Guerir’s rear and were turning their horses around to regroup.

Ben Guerir, watching his troops descend into chaos beside him, closed his eyes in despair and then drew his pistol from his waist...

Outside Tripoli City.

Moro lowered his telescope and pointed towards a large tract of farmland to the southeast of the ancient city, exclaiming gleefully to Ney,

"Look, that’s going to be my fief."

He then pointed a bit southward, "Ah, that piece should be your fief. It looks like we’re going to be neighbors for a long time."

Ney frowned and cut him off, "Cannons! Can’t you care about when those damned cannons will arrive?"

Although Ben Guerir was dead, the Ottoman forces in the City of Tripoli, which were not directly his troops, quickly appointed a new commander and continued to defend the ancient city.

Without the help of cannons, it really wasn’t easy to breach the city.

"Celestin!" Moro turned around and shouted, "Go see where the damned cannons have gotten to!"

While he turned his head, Ney quickly snatched up the telescope and looked to the southeast, his heart surging with excitement: My Lord! That truly is good land, it looks much more fertile than back home!

Over an hour later, the much-anticipated cannons finally appeared below the City of Tripoli.

As the boom of the cannons began, the soldiers of the legion rubbed their hands in anticipation, their eyes gleaming greedily—just capturing Tripoli might grant them a piece of the nearby land.

No sooner had a breach appeared in the Ottoman defensive line than several companies of soldiers, accompanied by the thunder of cannon fire, rushed forward fervently...

The Indian subcontinent.

The eastern city of Salem in Mysore.

Seated in a luxurious palanquin carried by more than twenty men, Sultan Tipu sighed once again, looking towards the distant, barely visible river and spoke wistfully,

"I truly wish you could stay here. You have helped Mysore achieve great victories."

Lafayette also sighed, Stay connected via novelbuddy

"I too regret leaving the beautiful land of Mysore, but you know, the British are inciting their minions to invade our Tunisia, and I must go back and fight them."

Of course, that was just an excuse. In fact, by this time the battles in places such as Annaba and Tripoli had already concluded, and he should be heading straight to the Palace of Versailles for a promotion ceremony.

His "temporary assistant to the Minister of War" commission had already been signed by His Majesty the King. His time in India had been decently impressive, causing great losses to the English, though he hadn’t completed the mission to "defeat the British," hence the "temporary" in his title.

But this was already a very high-ranking official position, and he could imagine the obsequious behavior of those nobles who had once scorned him.

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"Damn the British!" the Sultan Tipu slammed his hand on the armrest, then shook his head, "From now on, I must contend with these devils on my own."

Lafayette remembered the Crown Prince’s orders and hurriedly said in a low voice,

"Do not worry, there will certainly be other friends to assist you."

Sultan Tipu’s eyes lit up at once:

"You mean?"

Lafayette leaned in closer:

"All the weapons, cannon casting materials, pharmaceuticals, gunpowder, and military uniforms, etc., will continue to come from the Ottoman direction. But the prices will be slightly higher than before."

Mysore and the Ottoman Empire were traditional trade partners, with a considerable fleet of ships plying back and forth. These coastal traders, hugging the coastline, were agile and elusive; even if the British fleet filled the Indian Ocean, it would still be hard to stop them.

"That’s wonderful!" exclaimed Sultan Tipu, "The price doesn’t matter."

Mysore, with its population of eighteen million, had been trading with Europe for a long time, and its treasury was very wealthy.

Lafayette continued, "There are two more things you must remember."

"Please go ahead," Sultan Tipu immediately sat up straight.

"Firstly, you must stockpile a large amount of food in major cities like Mysore, Seringapatam, and Salem, and preferably ammunition as well."

[Note 1] In this era, the nobility generally learned skills like horseback riding, swordsmanship, and hunting from a young age. After reaching adulthood, they would train a bit in troop formation and orders, thus acquiring basic combat capabilities. Of course, there were always lazy or unconventional individuals unwilling to learn these things, but they would also face disdain from other nobles.