Chapter 6

So, Astuni laughed, lifting the hand holding his pipe and propping his elbow with the other, nodding, "God has bestowed France with vast and fertile lands, the wealth produced by the land can sustain twenty-five million French people, making each town self-sufficient, yet also isolated and backward. Not only in Saint-Dieu, but throughout France, the land is divided, part belonging to the Church, part to the landed nobility. These lands are exempt from taxes but are left unattended, as you have seen, we can only recruit tenant farmers and sharecroppers to cultivate them, but how can they be motivated to work? As for the remaining land, it belongs to the peasants..." Astuni turned and pointed in the direction from which Felix and his siblings had come, "Peasants, yes, peasants, they have an immense and devout love for the land. Their houses, though dilapidated and dirty like animal nests, they tend their fields as beautifully as gardens. There is no other reason, because the land belongs to them."

"But the peasants are in extreme poverty, with no signs of improvement."

"Yes, you are right. The nobility is exempt from taxes, and the Church's taxes were 'bought out' years ago, so they also do not pay taxes now. However, to maintain their status, the nobility and the Church spend most of their income from large tracts of land on hunting, balls, and bribes, showing no interest in investing in agricultural improvements. As for the peasants, since the land is their means of survival, how could they neglect it? But there are too many of them, leading to a small share of land for each. Moreover, the taxes that the nobility and the Church are exempt from are all borne by them. Those who own large tracts of land lack enthusiasm for managing them, while those who are truly passionate have no land and must bear heavy taxes." Astuni analyzed incisively, then sighed, "This is the plight of France. A large amount of money is extracted from the land but never flows back into it. As a result, the country's foundation becomes increasingly barren, and the emptiness of the treasury brings increasing despair. Smoke will soon rise from the wasteland." This statement seemed like a prophecy from Astuni. He put down his pipe, and his gaze, like Felix's, fell on the "wasteland," the only undeveloped virgin land in Saint-Dieu, a forest of 870 arpents.

Felix was silent but understood:

In this situation of internal competition, this unowned forest land would inevitably become the focus of intense contention among various forces.

"Brother, you and the priest had a pleasant conversation." At this moment, Aile smiled and walked over.

Felix then bid farewell to the priest.

"Let's shake hands, like people in the big cities!" Astuni was very straightforward, not at all like a priest (who also served as a town teacher and sacristan).

It was said that he was not from this area; his cousin worked in the maritime forest court in Rouen. As an outstanding graduate of the seminary, he volunteered to come to Saint-Dieu to replace the old priest who had recently passed away, quickly becoming a respected figure in the area.

Felix extended his hand and shook Astuni's, who had a firm grip.

"Felix, the nobility are proud and narrow-minded, whether from the court, the sword, the robe, or the countryside. The fat bishops are all gathered in Paris, thinking only of bribing to advance their positions. The king and queen, how to put it? They are neither foolish nor clever, mediocre, surrounded by a large number of pensioned nobles and literati, flattery and smooth talk drowning out their own decisions. As for the merchants, they are even less significant, caring only about how their money can grow, preferring to lend to the bottomless pit of the treasury rather than invest in real industries. The peasants, as you see, are poor, desperate, ignorant, cunning, and their greatest wish in life is to cultivate more land, only to continue being exploited by various people, without their lives improving. But they have no choice, with a natural attachment to the land. The future of France can only rely on young people from small towns like you, Felix."

Hearing this, even Felix was taken aback. How could a mere second-generation local tycoon become the hope of France?

"Young people from small towns like you, well-educated, with a broader perspective than peasants and townspeople. But you are from a small town, not tainted by the vices of Paris, the modern Babylon. This country cannot rely on the nobility, the Church, or the peasants; the old system is on its last legs. Perhaps in the future, we can see what true equality looks like." Astuni's gaze was resolute, "I have long wanted to meet you. When I learned that you were unharmed in the drowning accident, I was even more relieved..."

Before he could finish, Astuni's expression suddenly changed.

Felix was also surprised.

"It seems the war will come sooner than I expected." Astuni muttered to himself.

Following his straight gaze, Felix turned to look.

On the shady side of the mountain, in front of the "tower-fort" style house, a middle-aged man wearing a feathered felt hat, with both sides of the hat turned up, stood at the edge of the wasteland forest, near a collapsed fence. Several servants, who had grabbed an old woman and a little girl, both dressed in tattered clothes, stood beside him. The old woman and the little girl were carrying large bundles of firewood, clearly collected from the forest.

When the two were dragged before the middle-aged man, he pulled out a fine oak from the middle of the bundle and shouted sternly, "Who allowed you to cut fine wood from the public forest without the permission of the nobility?"

"No, it fell on its own." The old woman denied it outright.

This man, clearly the landed noble Coquand Blondon, sneered. The servants quickly found an ax on the little girl and threw it to the ground with a clatter.

"Such oak cannot be broken by the storms from the sea, how could it fall on its own? Madam Durand, you and your granddaughter, under the pretense of collecting firewood, secretly cut fine wood, oak, peach, and cherry, hiding it in the bundles and bringing it out to sell to merchants in town. You steal at least fifty livres a year, and many other peasant households are thieves and criminals like you, plundering tens of thousands of livres from this forest every year."

With that, Coquand suddenly became violent, swinging the hard oak and striking down hard.

Madam Durand was immediately hit on the shoulder, groaning and falling to the ground, the firewood scattering everywhere. Her granddaughter let out a terrified and anguished cry, trying to rush to her grandmother's aid but was held back by Coquand's servants.

"I must stop this atrocity!" Priest Astuni, seeing this, pushed Felix aside and, wearing his cassock, rushed out of the cemetery, running down the hill.