From Corsica to the Fourth Rome.

At the same time, on the streets of Turin, several gentlemen and ladies walking with umbrellas suddenly noticed something strange in the city.

Since when, a layer of water nearly half a foot deep had accumulated on the street, completely soaking their boots and trouser legs. This had never happened in Turin in previous years.

The dim yellow stagnant water gave off an unbearable pungent odor, with countless rat carcasses and rotten impurities floating on it. It was obvious that the stagnant water had backflowed from the sewer.

The torrential rain washed over the city streets, bringing all the dirt and filth into the water. The turbid and murky water looked even more disgusting than the cesspool in a country farmhouse.

A graceful lady screamed and lifted up her skirt. She simply could not accept such filthy water staining her precious dress:

"Oh my god, what on earth is happening!"

"There must be something wrong with the city's sewer system." Someone immediately agreed.

"It's really damn it. We spend so much tax money on repairs every year, and yet something like this goes wrong. I think the person in charge of the project should be shot!"

"Alas, there is so much money to be made here."

"Let's wait until the rain stops before we go. The water will naturally go down after the rain stops."

Several pedestrians crowded into a small pavilion by the roadside, chatting and waiting for the annoying heavy rain to fade away.

However, an hour later, these citizens were horrified to find that not only did the torrential rain show no sign of stopping, but even the accumulated water on the ground was rising rapidly at a speed visible to the naked eye.

In just one hour, the water level, which was only half a foot deep just now, has now completely submerged the calves, making it almost impossible to move.

Everyone stared in amazement at the city streets before them that looked like a vast ocean, and were speechless for a long time.

Shop owners on both sides of the street hurriedly hung up signs saying "out of business" and sealed their doors with wooden boards; the horse hitching posts on the road were almost completely submerged in the water, with only the round tips barely visible.

The city was in chaos and people crying and shouting could be heard everywhere.

Countless residential buildings had been filled with this dirty and turbid sewage. The middle-class citizens were frantically trying to rescue the items stored in their basements, while the homeless poor collapsed and screamed, watching their only shacks being washed away by the strong wind and floods.

Crimes taking advantage of the chaos occurred in every corner of the city, and the greedy eyes of robbers and thieves were fixed on every poor person with bulging pockets and no home.

In the city's lower-lying west side, the situation is even worse.

The deepest part of the water has risen to the waist, and even children who were separated from their parents have drowned in this vast ocean.

Everywhere one could see displaced citizens, with their families and all their belongings, walking in the streets at a loss, not knowing where to go. Their homes had either been flooded or were crumbling under the heavy rain and flooding.

The bureaucrats and police in the city were extremely worried but could do nothing. They had never seen such severe rain and flooding in their lives.

The bureaucrats wanted to open the sewers to release the flood, only to find that the boundless flood was actually pouring out of the sewers, and countless water columns were also pouring into the city from the damaged parts of the city wall.

What should be done next? Will the water level continue to rise? Should the troops stationed in the bastion take action? No one can give a definite answer.

It's a mess. Everything is a mess.

At this moment, nearly 200,000 people in Turin have only one question in their minds:
What on earth is going on?! Is this really just a problem with the city sewer?!
And in the Royal Palace of Turin, there is only peace and tranquility.

The game in the garden lasted for more than three hours. The score between the general and the king was tied at 3-3. The two sides were fighting fiercely in the final game. Even the royal band in the garden changed the music to a passionate march.

It is not known whether it was because His Majesty the King was inherently more skilled or because this trusted general was showing weakness, but Carlo Emanuele III already had a slight advantage in the deciding game.

The trusted general grabbed a handful of macarons and threw them into his mouth like chewing peanuts. Every time the king made a move, he would say a compliment without repeating himself:
"This is a brilliant castling move, Your Majesty. I don't think even those so-called masters can make this move."

"Hmm."

Carlo Emanuele III focused all his energy on the chessboard in front of him. As a competitive king, he was determined to win even a friendly match with his subordinates.

While the two sides were fighting in the chess game, a courtier walked into the garden cautiously, waited patiently until His Majesty the King finished his move, and then whispered:
"Your Majesty, General, the army's quartermaster general wants to see you. He said he has something important to report."

Carlo Emanuele III was a little unhappy when his thoughts were interrupted:
"The Quartermaster General? The Colonel? What does he want?"

The trusted general standing by was even more unhappy, and was very annoyed that this subordinate had ruined the good things between him and the king at this time:
"I think he's going to complain again. He's been telling me all day that the citizens can't collect enough food, and that the rationing system has caused the citizens to complain. What a coward.

In order to maximize Turin's resistance time, Carlo Emanuele III only gave the main guidelines for implementing the rationing system, but the specific implementation was naturally the responsibility of the general.

The trusted general's method was extremely simple and crude. He directly ordered the Quartermaster General to send out armed grain collectors to search and collect grain from every household.

Of course, no one can say for sure whether these tax collectors would collect other things in the name of defending the country and enrich themselves.

As for whether these grain collectors would go to the homes of powerful nobles, it was even more uncertain.

Moreover, it is easy to collect food but difficult to distribute it. It is very common for a middle-class citizen to hand over all 300 pounds of food in his basement to the army, but his family of five could only get four loaves of bread and a small can of black beans every day.

"Yeah."

Carlo Emmanuel III frowned slightly. Having ruled the country and commanded the army for more than forty years, he certainly knew how important the morale and public opinion of the people in the besieged city were:

"I think we can relax the rationing requirements a little and allow citizens to keep a small amount of food for themselves. After all, the Corsicans will not force us to the point of running out of ammunition and food."

The general waved his hands quickly, seeming to be very confident in his work and also wanted to show off his ability in front of the king:

"That's not necessary. Your policy is undoubtedly good. At most, some people below have failed to implement it properly. There is no need to make any changes to the rationing system, Your Majesty."

His Majesty was naturally very pleased to hear this, and was about to praise him when a courtier beside him suddenly interrupted and said:

"Your Majesty, the Quartermaster General does not seem to be here for the rationing system, but because of the sudden floods in and around the city."

"flood?"

The general and the king asked in unison, and Carlo Emmanuele III's face turned grim:

"What flood? Explain it clearly!"

The courtier hastened to repeat what he had just seen and heard outside the palace. According to his description, the city of Turin was already in a state of panic and chaos. Such chaos had not appeared in Turin in the previous fifty years.

"impossible!"

The general stood up with his eyes wide open, not even caring about the chessboard that was knocked over by his bloated belly, and shouted in accusation:
"Absolutely impossible. Such heavy rains have happened before. How could the entire city be flooded today? If you dare to confuse His Majesty again, I will do it." "Enough!"

Carlo Emmanuele III shouted angrily in a deep voice, and with just one sentence, the general shut up instantly.

He held his forehead in thought, his face pale, and his mind kept flashing back to an insignificant report he had received two weeks ago - the Corsican army was building large fortifications south of Turin, presumably to rebuild the bridge in preparation for crossing the river.

South of Turin, large fortifications, unusually low water levels in the Po River in recent days, the Corsican army today imposed a complete blockade on Turin.
These clues were strung together and instantly exploded in Carlo Emanuele III's mind.

He understood, he understood everything, and only then did Carlo Emmanuele III suddenly realize that he and the entire kingdom would have to pay the price for underestimating the enemy.

That Lawrence Bonaparte was by no means a man in vain.

When the king spoke again, his voice was no longer as majestic as before:

"Let the Quartermaster General come in. I want to see him now!"

The trusted general swallowed nervously, thinking that his recklessness had angered His Majesty the King, and quickly bent down to pick up the scattered chess pieces:

"Your Majesty, don't worry. These are just scaremongering. Let's continue the game we were playing."

Carlo Emanuele III was so angry that he almost fainted. He grabbed a handful of chess pieces and smashed them directly into the general's face:

"You fool! Don't you understand? It was the Corsicans who did this. They are going to flood Turin! How cruel and heartless! Why don't you get back to your post?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Your Majesty, I will go right away, I will go right away!"

The general covered his eyes which were in great pain but did not dare to scream out. He quickly bent his body and retreated from the back garden.

The Quartermaster General who came in just happened to pass by the general. Seeing his superior in such an embarrassed state, the already pale-faced Quartermaster General looked even uglier.

As soon as he arrived before the king, he knelt down, not even daring to raise his head, his lips trembling constantly:

"Your Majesty"

"What exactly happened in Turin?!" Carlo Emanuele III asked harshly.

"The Corsicans surrounded and blockaded Turin in the early morning, and then the water level of the Slavte River began to rise wildly. It was not because of the heavy rain. No heavy rain could cause the water level to rise to that level. As you know, the Slavte River is directly connected to the moat of Turin, so the water level of the moat directly overflowed the embankment. Now not only the city, but also the suburbs outside the city have become a flooded area. If this continues, Turin and its surroundings will become a vast ocean!"

Carlo Emanuele III listened coldly, veins bulging on his forehead, and he could hardly control his anger. How could he not know how much damage this flood would bring to the city of Turin.

The results of a wise king's ten years of hard work may not be enough to offset the losses caused by this flood.

After hearing the whole story, Carlo Emanuele III suddenly asked:

"You seem to have something important to say?"

The Quartermaster General was so eager to see him, of course, not just to tip him off, that was not his responsibility.

The quartermaster general was kneeling on the ground, trembling all over and unable to speak. He wanted to speak several times but was interrupted by himself. The expression on his face was like that of a mourner.

It was not until Carlo Emanuele III became impatient that he whispered:

"The six warehouses where our army stores food have all been affected by the floods. A large amount of food has become damp and will probably rot and mold soon."

"What did you say?!"

"Your Majesty, I have sent people to rescue. But the heavy rain outside has not stopped, and the road is still flooded. In the end, only a small part of the food was properly transferred to the southwest bastion for storage."

As soon as the Quartermaster General finished speaking, Carlo Emanuele III collapsed into the recliner.

Yes, he should have thought of it earlier. Since the Corsicans thought of a water attack, then their goal was to completely destroy the logistical supplies of the defenders in the city.

It is now impossible to urgently order Vittorio's troops in the south to return to defend Turin, as the Corsicans have completely blockaded Turin.

The old king closed his eyes tiredly. He could never have expected that his glorious reputation in this life would be ruined by his own hands in his old age.

The quartermaster general was kneeling on the ground, trembling with fear, waiting for punishment. The grain stored in the six granaries was all collected from the citizens after layers of exploitation. Once the grain got damp and rotted, a famine was bound to happen in Turin unless His Majesty the King decided to open the city and surrender to the Corsicans.

As the person primarily responsible, this head isn't even enough to take all the blame.

"How long can the stored food support the implementation of the rationing system?" Carlo Emanuele III asked in a low voice. He no longer had the energy to get angry.

"About a week."

Carlo Emanuele III sighed and gave the order with difficulty:
"Reduce the daily quota for each person to one third of the original amount. Take your people to collect food from the citizens again, paying special attention to the middle class. Sigh, let the people suffer a little more."

"But..." The Quartermaster General's eyes widened as he wanted to say something. Cutting the quota to one-third would undoubtedly arouse the anger of the citizens, especially if he had to conduct another comprehensive collection. How could those citizens who were already displaced and had children to support have any surplus food? !
In his opinion, the only feasible way is to take action against the wealthy aristocratic families. The food wasted in their mansions and villas every day is enough to feed countless people.

But he knew how ridiculous the proposal was, even without even saying it. At a time when it was unknown when the siege would end, who would complain that their bread basket was too heavy? And how could His Majesty the King order action against those princes?

"Do it immediately!"

Carlo Emanuele III did not give the Quartermaster General any room to refute. He waved his hand for him to leave and then stayed alone in the back garden, unable to say anything for a long time.

Even during the War of the Austrian Succession more than 20 years ago, when facing the invasion of 40,000 Franco-Spanish coalition forces led by Prince Conti, Carlo Emmanuele III was not so anxious and worried.

But this time, the old king's heart was swallowed by an ocean of fear like never before:
Is Turin really going to fall? !
In the afternoon, there was a strong wind, heavy rain and rumbling thunder.

Lawrence and a group of officers, wearing oilskin raincoats, stationed their horses on a hilly high ground outside Turin, watching coldly as Turin was gradually submerged in a flood in the rain.

The moat, once regarded by the citizens of Turin as a guardian of the city, has now become an indelible nightmare haunting the city.

The Corsican troops surrounding the city were not just watching from the sidelines. Under the coordinated command of Berthier, they continued to pile up the remaining wood and sandbags from embankment construction on the flat terrain around them, forming a series of small dams, thus completely locking the water of the Po River in the city of Turin.

The surging waters of the Po River roared and flowed into Turin through the Slavonian River. In just half a day, the entire city was surrounded by a lake, and the boundaries of the lake continued to expand with time.

If a traveler from afar happens to come here by mistake, he might think he has come to Venice by accident.

In Lawrence's eyes, the impregnable Turin was just a lonely boat swaying in the wind and rain. (End of this chapter)