I'm the Dauphin in France

Chapter 1236 The Power of the Church

A child's voice called from afar: "Out of bounds!"

It was also broken French.

Then, seven or eight Native American boys ran over and soon realized they had gotten into trouble.

An eight- or nine-year-old child hurriedly apologized to Napoleon: "I'm so sorry, sir..."

He seemed to have forgotten how to pronounce that word.

Napoleon gestured to his attendant to return the ball to the child and asked, "Are you playing football?"

The child stared wide-eyed, bewildered. He didn't understand.

Carroll chimed in, “Yes, Major. They play football for a while after class. It’s their favorite thing to do.”

"get out of class dismissed?" Napoleon asked casually. "What are they learning?"

"Of course, it's French. Whether it's doing business or communicating with government officials, I can't do without French."

Napoleon nodded, thinking to himself that these Native Americans were learning quite quickly; he himself had been learning French when he was eight years old and knew how difficult it was.

Of course, if he saw Rahman's simplified version of French, he probably wouldn't think that way.

Some of the brighter Cherokee can even hold simple conversations after a year of study, like Carole. However, for native French speakers, their French is limited to being able to understand, and they must struggle to resist the urge to correct any mistakes.

As the children left with their soccer balls, Carroll exclaimed, "This is simply the best game in the world!"

"Everyone loves it. After the children learn to play football, they can train for hunting and fighting much faster than before."

Napoleon was somewhat surprised, but he quickly recovered.

Playing football requires at least understanding teamwork, the importance of formations, and even the ability to command and follow orders. These are all basic qualities of a qualified soldier.

It seems that football training should be implemented in the military camps from now on. He thought to himself, no wonder His Highness the Crown Prince wanted to create this sport.

Someone must have informed the Cherokee chieftain, Hassai, who, along with several elders and members of the tribe, came out to greet Napoleon with a smile and a bow: "Welcome, Your Excellency Major Bonaparte."

Although his French also had a strong accent, his grammar and tenses were very standard, clearly indicating that he had learned it long ago.

Napoleon followed him into the house, a wooden house with seven rooms that served as both the chieftain's home and the tribe's "administrative building."

Napoleon took the pipe from Hassai, tried to take a puff, and immediately felt as if a branding iron had been stuffed into his throat. He quickly used his amazing willpower to hold it in and not cough it out.

After a moment, he took out the governor's mobilization order and handed it to Hassai: "I am here by order of His Highness the Crown Prince to serve as the commander of the Louisiana militia."

"You know, the Americans have always wanted to control the west bank of the Mississippi River. I even encountered eight infiltrators this morning."

"Therefore, we must build an army to deal with them."

"I hope that the warriors of the Cherokee tribe will join us."

Hassai's gaze swept over the transfer order, noticing the clauses such as "voluntary participation," and he smiled and nodded, saying, "We do need to be wary of those damn Americans."

"Longfang, go and find 40 of the strongest men of your tribe."

Napoleon frowned slightly. The Cherokee tribe had a population of eight or nine thousand, and he had originally planned to recruit at least 300 soldiers, but the chieftain had only offered him 40.

He tried to remain calm and said, “Your Excellency, all the soldiers’ weapons and uniforms are provided by the militia. They also receive a monthly salary of 9 francs.”

“That sounds great,” Hassai said with a smile. “But you see, the town is being expanded, spring planting is coming soon, oh, and there’s trade too. All of this requires a lot of manpower.”

"Alright, we can send you 50 soldiers, that's really the most we can send."

Napoleon sensed that this wasn't quite what he had expected—that he would be able to command an unanimous following. "We need at least 5 soldiers to effectively protect Louisiana. The colonial government forces only have 1800. Therefore, the Cherokee would be best able to provide 200..."

Hasai said solicitously, “You should go and see the Creek tribe. They have more than two thousand warriors!”

Napoleon was already silently grinding his teeth.

He had heard the governor mention the Indian warriors, estimating that out of two thousand men, only 800 would be considered qualified.

Around 4 p.m., Napoleon left the town with a list of 70 Cherokee soldiers in his pocket and rode to the Miami tribal settlement 80 kilometers away.

A few days later, he was dismissed by the Miami chieftain with 60 soldiers.

After passing through four tribes, Napoleon finally lost his temper. He managed to recruit fewer than 300 soldiers—these Native Americans wanted to preserve their own strength and make the other tribes suffer more casualties.

“That’s enough for now.” He waved to his servant. “We’re going back to New Orleans. We need to get the Governor to issue a mandatory conscription order.”

However, when he passed through Arkansas, he unexpectedly met a French priest on the road—Lorière, an assistant to Father Vigée.

During the boring journey, the two "French compatriots" quickly struck up a conversation.

“You mean the Americans might attack Louisiana?” Lorière asked, frowning.

"That's what the intelligence services say. And I need enough soldiers. You know, training them takes a considerable amount of time."

How many people do you need?

“At least another 3 people need to be recruited, but these are Native American tribes…”

“Please leave it to me,” Lorier said confidently. “To be precise, leave it to the church.”

"Do you really have a solution?"

"of course."

half a month later.

The Cherokee tribe erupted in commotion. Almost all the young men in the tribe blocked the door of the Hasai chieftain like madmen, and even strong women joined in.

People waved their hands and shouted wildly, "Holy War! Holy War!"

"I want to join the Holy Knights!"

"Follow Commander Bonaparte to fight the heretics!"

Yes, just this morning, the Louisiana Church issued a call to its members to participate in the holy war against heresy in the United States.

In the chieftain's house, Hasai was arguing with several elders: "If we send 700 people, this year's spring planting will be affected."

"Let the women do their work; we must answer God's call!"

"Commander Bonaparte said there would be a maximum of 300 men..."

“Tell him that our soldiers can do without pay.”

Meanwhile, more than 1100 Creek warriors were already on their way to Baton Rouge.

They encountered hundreds of Shawnee people on the road. A race immediately ensued, as they feared that if they arrived too late, all the slots for the holy war would be filled.

In early September, a roster of 7700 able-bodied men from various tribes was handed to Napoleon.

　Thank you to Traveling Meteor and Book Friend 20191009202955978 for their generous donations to this book! The author is extremely grateful, thank you!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)