The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 100

Chapter 100: The Night Encounter with the Thief

After a whole morning of Cabinet meetings, several ministers were already showing signs of fatigue.

Queen Marie was about to announce a temporary recess, suggesting that they continue after lunch, when she heard Bishop Brienne speak up first: "There is one final agenda item."

The Queen sighed inwardly. She had just risen slightly from her chair but sank back into it again.

Bishop Brienne turned towards Count Morneau: "Count Morneau believes that, given the dire state of the textile, steel, and glass industries, a special office should be set up to manage these industries in an effort to turn things around."

Queen Marie, exhausted and no longer wishing to think, directly asked the Prime Minister: "Archbishop Brienne, what do you think should be done?"

This matter had already been discussed earlier. Brienne immediately replied: "Your Majesty, I suggest establishing an Industrial Planning Bureau to specifically manage the industries mentioned. Count Morneau will no longer need to handle these matters and can save his energy for better overseeing the news review process."

The Queen thought this did not seem like a major issue. She nodded and asked, "Then, who do you think should be responsible for this department?"

Joseph had been waiting for this question. He stood and said, "Your Majesty, leave it to me. This should be a good opportunity for practice."

...

Royal Palace of Royaulx.

The Duke of Orléans looked at the British Ambassador to France in confusion: "Are you saying that you have already discussed trade negotiations with the Crown Prince?"

"Indeed," Ambassador Hartley nodded with a smile.

"Then, do you know what he said at the Cabinet meeting?" The Duke of Orléans sneered. "He wants Britain to reduce the tariff on wine imports from France to below 10%. Ha, he’s making a joke..."

Ambassador Hartley hesitated briefly but then spoke truthfully: "Your Grace, as far as I know, the British Parliament has agreed to this request in principle, and they have asked me to finalize the negotiation time with your country."

The Duke of Orléans was stunned: "How could you agree to such terms?"

As he was speaking, a guard’s shout came from outside: "Catch him! He’s running that way!"

"Get some men to block him in the corridor! My God, he’s like a sly squirrel!"

"Ah—!"

"Be careful! His swordsmanship is very good..."

The butler quickly entered, immediately locking the door behind him. He then placed his hand over his chest and addressed the Duke of Orléans: "My Lord, a thief has slipped inside. The guards are currently chasing him. You are safe here."

The Duke frowned but was not surprised. Many different people came and went at the Royal Palace of Royaulx every day, so it was easy for a thief to blend in. However, he was somewhat curious—there had been such a commotion earlier, yet the guards still hadn’t caught the thief.

After a short while, a guard, panting heavily, knocked on the door and reported to the butler.

The butler immediately turned to the Duke of Orléans and said, "My Lord, the thief seems to have stolen something from your document room and has just run out of the Royal Palace."

"That damn scoundrel!" The Duke’s face immediately darkened. There were several important documents in that room, and the place was heavily guarded. How could a thief have gotten away with it? He immediately ordered, "Send more men! We must catch him!"

"Yes, My Lord."

Soon, over a hundred fully armed guards streamed out of the Royal Palace, vanishing into the last rays of the evening sunlight.

Five carriages sped along the wide cobblestone streets of Saint-Honoré in Paris.

It was the Crown Prince’s "moving" convoy.

Yes, Joseph had realized that after taking charge of industrial management, there was simply too much to do. If he were to travel back and forth between Paris and the Palace of Versailles every day, it would waste an enormous amount of time.

So, he had decided to buy a house in the Louvre District, which would serve as the office for the "French Industrial Planning Bureau." He had moved both his personal belongings and office supplies there, preparing to live there permanently.

Inside the carriage, Joseph was silently contemplating how he could quickly raise a large sum for the "grain fund."

He had roughly calculated that, assuming a 30% food gap, even if grain prices did not fluctuate, at least 60 million livres of grain would need to be purchased to get through 1788.

This did not include the cost of building grain storage and other expenses.

As for 1789, it was very likely that grain would be hard to come by even abroad. After all, this was a global climate anomaly, with widespread famine from Europe to Asia.

And if the famine issue wasn’t resolved properly, the starving masses would have no choice but to resort to drastic measures...

Joseph first considered loans, but given France's current financial credibility, getting such a large amount of money in a short time would be extremely difficult. And even if he could get the loan, the interest would be astronomical.

Next, he thought of issuing public bonds... but forget it. The finance minister had long sold off any bonds that could be sold and wouldn’t leave any for himself.

Making money through new technologies? Even if it was possible, there wasn’t enough time.

So, he needed to make quick money, and big money at that...

Just as his brain was working at full speed, the sound of a musket shot suddenly rang out from a distance, followed by a clamor of voices. The speed of the carriage immediately slowed.

After a while, a guard knocked on the window and reported: "Your Highness, it seems they’re chasing a thief up ahead."

"A thief? And they’re firing so many shots?" Joseph asked, puzzled. "Is it a gang of thieves?"

"No, Your Highness," the guard replied. "It’s said to be just one person."

"One person is causing such a commotion?" Joseph asked again. "Are the police involved in the capture?"

The guard shook his head. "It’s the Royal Palace guards, Your Highness."

The Duke of Orléans’ men?

A few more gunshots echoed in the distance, and Eymond quickly ordered the coachman to reverse and steer away from the trouble.

Just as the convoy turned into a nearby alley, a shadow suddenly leapt lightly down from a rooftop on the right.

The shadow used the window ledge to slow its descent, and as the carriage passed, it raised its hand and smashed the window. Then, with lightning speed, it leapt into the carriage.

The figure used its left hand to steady itself on the small wooden table inside the carriage, quickly regaining balance. At the same time, the figure confirmed that there were only two people inside the carriage, one of whom was a seemingly harmless young man.

The figure moved swiftly. As soon as its feet hit the floor, its right hand drew a dagger from its waist and swung it at the blonde man inside the carriage.

The figure did not intend to kill; rather, it planned to use the knife to hold the man hostage and force him to lead them through the encirclement.

However, before the blade had even traveled a finger's length, the man in front of the figure flashed a gleaming short sword, already pressed against the figure's throat.

The blonde man spoke in a deep voice: "Don't move, or you’ll lose your life!"

The figure froze. The dagger in its hand was immediately disarmed.

"Guards..."

The blonde man was about to shout for help, but the young man sitting opposite him raised his hand to stop him, then turned to the intruder and asked, "The guards from the Royal Palace were chasing you just now, weren’t they?"

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