The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 276

Chapter 276: Disintegrating the Indigenous Tribes

The Marquis of Wellesley wore a serene smile. “Hmm, that’s quite in line with the Ottoman’s habits.”

Lord Talmos spoke anxiously, “But, my lord, your North African strategy hinges on a pincer movement against Tunis. If the Ottomans remain inactive…”

The British Foreign Secretary nodded. “It’s not just them. The Moroccans are likely to merely observe too—they’ll still receive our aid regardless.”

“How could that be allowed?!”

The Marquis of Wellesley gestured for calm. “We still have Benjiul—oh, he’s Pasha now.

“As long as you order him, he’ll gladly raid Tunis.”

Benjiul had only managed to stage his coup thanks to substantial British assistance, which included funding, weapons, and manpower.

Currently, at least 30% of Benjiul’s key officers in Tripoli were British-trained. Their influence over his decisions was profound.

Moreover, raiding Tunis aligned with Ottoman political orthodoxy—it was a rebellious province that had betrayed the Sultan and thus deserved punishment. Benjiul’s soldiers would hardly object to such an endeavor; in fact, most of them would be eager for the spoils such actions promised.

The Marquis continued, “If the French don’t intervene, then the Algerians will be emboldened to raid Tunis from the west—something they’ve often done in the past.”

Lord Talmos quickly understood. “If the French attack the Tripolitanian army, the Moroccans will be compelled by our agreement to launch a diversionary strike against Tunis. Benjiul can then withdraw to fortify Tripoli itself.”

As the heavy ship sails unfurled overhead, the Marquis of Wellesley walked to the casement, watching the sea slowly retreat. “Frankly, I’d like to see the French breach Tripoli entirely. The Whigs back home would lose all justification for obstructing our fleet’s intervention in Mediterranean affairs.”

The Maghreb diplomatic envoy added, “And that would lead to a serious conflict with the Ottomans. We could even assist by transporting more Ottoman troops to Tripoli to fight the French.”

The Marquis turned back, giving the envoy an approving glance. “Your understanding of Mediterranean affairs is profound. I trust you to handle North African matters completely.

“That will allow me to focus more energy on the Low Countries and the Danish situation.”

...

Tunis

Under the watchful escort of his guards, Joseph reluctantly climbed into the carriage.

The commotion in Tripoli could not escape the attention of Versailles. When Queen Marie somehow learned that her son had ventured to the “domestic province” across the Mediterranean amid neighboring political upheaval, she anxiously dispatched palace officials to summon the Crown Prince back to Paris.

Though Joseph wished to remain and orchestrate a response to British maneuvers, he could not disobey his mother’s orders…

As the carriage started moving, he picked up a set of documents sent from Paris, casting a final glance at the distant, ornate Kahil Palace.

The palace dome shimmered under the sunlight, as if it were a castle from a fairytale.

An idea suddenly struck Joseph. He signaled the coach to stop and called Joan and Hilada over, asking, “Would you two like to live in Kahil Palace? I mean, with complete freedom—daily banquets and balls, full court accommodations?”

“You jest, Your Highness,” Joan replied with a cooperative smile. “That is the residence of Hajji Bey, after all.”

Hilada, however, laughed and added, “But if such an opportunity truly arose, who would refuse it?”

Joseph pressed further, “Would you accept even if it meant abandoning your current pursuits?”

Hilada replied, “If it meant indulging in such luxury and comfort, what couldn’t one abandon?”

“I thought as much,” Joseph nodded, turning to Joan. “Then the issue of ungoverned tribes should be resolved.”

Joan’s expression lit up. “Your Highness, what should we do?”

“Have you been to Paris’ Eden Amusement Park?”

“Ah?” Joan hesitated before nodding. “Yes, Your Highness, I once took my wife there.”

“I’ll grant you 150,000 livres to construct a similar amusement park in Kahil Palace—half the scale would suffice.”

“I will do my utmost to fulfill your orders, Your Highness.”

“Then allocate another 100,000 to 200,000 livres for expanding Kahil Palace with entertainment and leisure facilities.”

“I’m afraid I don’t fully understand your intent, Your Highness.”

Joseph gave a knowing smile. “You seem to have forgotten how to deal with these tribes. Our Sun King gave us the answer long ago.”

“??”

“Invite the tribal leaders and key figures to reside at Kahil Palace. Bestow noble titles upon them—Her Majesty the Queen will issue the decrees.

“Host the grandest feasts and balls, shower them with luxury. The costs will be covered by Tunisian provincial treasuries.

“Then inform them that to maintain their noble status, they must remain close to Bey and reside in Kahil Palace—true nobility lives in splendor.”

Joseph glanced toward the palace. “You’ll know what to do next—just follow the Sun King’s example.”

Joan’s eyes widened. After a long pause, he murmured, “This… will this work?”

Joseph patted his shoulder. “That depends on whether you can make the tribal leaders too entranced to leave. If not, guide public opinion to make those in the palace look down on those still in the tribes.”

Joan swallowed hard. The Crown Prince’s plan seemed costly at over 300,000 livres, but it was far cheaper than deploying troops and wouldn’t antagonize the tribes.

Joan bowed deeply. “Rest assured, Your Highness, within six months—no, four months—I will have the tribal taxes collected!”

With their leaders and key figures away from their tribes, if Joan still failed to collect taxes, he’d have no right to his position.

...

Eastern Tunis, Djerba Island

Over twenty sailboats were anchored outside the port—the dock was too small to accommodate them all. Previously a Barbary pirate outpost, it had never been properly developed and could only handle three ships at a time.

Onshore, thousands of ragged individuals crowded together, craning their necks toward the ships and shouting impatiently.

These men, once the invincible Tunisian Imperial Guard, now waited anxiously for a chance to survive.

The ships would take them to distant New Zealand, where fertile land awaited. They had had enough of starving on this desolate island.

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