The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 90

Chapter 90: The Stumbling Block

“What is it you wish to discuss?” Vezinier turned around, looking at Dubois with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “As for this bill, not even a word of advice is needed. The only conclusion can be its rejection!”

Dubois gestured toward the dense crowd of protesters outside the window. “Sir, please listen to their voices. Perhaps it’s time we reconsidered our position on this matter.”

The judge seated across from him, whose dark circles nearly overtook half of his face, rubbed his tired eyes and yawned. Nodding, he said, “I suppose this matter needs to be resolved... A few adjustments to the bill’s clauses are not beyond discussion.”

He had barely slept the night before, as stones were thrown at his villa every few moments. Several windows had been shattered, and his wife and children had spent the night in a terrified frenzy.

On his way to the court this morning, he had passed rooftops lined with citizens, cursing at him and throwing shards of tile at his carriage, injuring the coachman’s hands.

Now, he was no longer concerned with bills or legislation; he just hoped the rioters would disperse soon so that peace could return to his household.

So, after Dubois initiated the conversation, he immediately leaned toward supporting him.

Another short judge subconsciously nodded in agreement.

The judge with an eagle-like nose beside Vezinier frowned and said, “You want us to listen to those commoners outside and make it difficult for all the decent people?”

“If this bill is beneficial, then decent people should not be troubled,” said the ever-surprised-looking judge, casting Dubois a glance.

Dubois closed the bill in front of him and scanned the room. “If no one wants to discuss the bill’s clauses, let’s move directly to the vote.”

Vezinier’s eyes swept across the two faces before him, and he said coldly, “Do you know what you’re saying? Rejecting this bill is the consensus of all the nobles; there’s no need for a vote!”

“It’s not a consensus,” Dubois shook his head, “I suggest the key members of the assembly vote on it.”

The so-called “key members” were the core judges in the court’s internal decision-making body, a group of six with significant authority. They could convene meetings and decide the majority of the court’s affairs.

As Dubois spoke, he raised his hand. “I believe the tax bill should be registered.”

The surprised-looking judge raised his hand as well. “I agree.”

The judge with dark circles hesitated for a moment. He recalled how the High Court had almost become a symbol of crime and decay, and how even the female attendants had refused to serve him two days ago. Slowly, he too raised his hand.

Three of the key members flipped their stance, and the direction of the meeting shifted immediately.

The short judge, also weary from the protests, glanced around furtively, ready to raise his hand when Vezinier suddenly stood up and shouted, “I will not allow this bill to be registered!”

He pointed a finger at the “dark-circle” judge. “Count Vadié, who supported you to become Chief Justice? Are you going to betray them?”

Then, he turned to the shortest judge. “Viscount Aural, I must remind you of the Duke of Aigle’s stance on the bill!”

Vezinier, as the Chief Justice, carried considerable weight, and his words startled Viscount Aural, causing him to instinctively retract his hand.

Count Vadié, however, was in a dilemma. His right hand wavered back and forth, unsure of what to do.

Dubois also stood, displeased. “I protest! Count Vezinier, you are threatening the freedom of the vote!”

Vezinier waited for Vadié’s hand to be placed back down on the table, and without acknowledging Dubois, he darkened his face and waved his hand. “This session is adjourned. We’ll call it a day.”

...

Royal Palace of Orléans.

The Duke of Orléans frowned as he looked at the sample pamphlet in his hand. “Viscount Lacroix, this is too little. You need to give me at least 3,000 words to boost sales.”

Lacroix stood before him, his face full of frustration. “Your Grace, I really have no power here. This is all I managed to write after staying up all night.”

He glanced at the man beside him, who somewhat resembled an Italian. “Mr. Brissot hasn’t even submitted his work...”

The Duke of Orléans grabbed another thick pamphlet from the side, his voice tinged with anger. “But their novels here have over 7,000 words! At this rate, who’s going to buy ours?”

Lacroix and Brissot both felt thoroughly dejected. Both were accomplished novelists of their time.

Especially Lacroix, who had once risen to fame with Dangerous Liaisons, making waves across Paris and causing numerous French writers to incorporate “danger” or “relations” in their book titles to ride on his coattails.

For this pamphlet, he had prepared a brilliant novel. But his writing speed couldn’t keep up. Normally, he could manage 3,000 words a week, but now the Duke was demanding that he finish that in just three days. It was simply impossible!

He just couldn’t understand why those writers with pseudonyms like “Silkworm and Potato” or “Octopus in the Water” could easily write over 7,000 words every three days! Did they never need to plan their stories?

For the first time, Lacroix doubted his own writing talent.

As for Brissot, he had completely given up and was already considering a career change...

The Duke of Orléans knew he had lost control of public opinion. The growing protests outside the High Court were clear proof of that.

And yet, he was powerless to counteract it.

While in the midst of his frustration, his steward knocked and entered. “My Lord, Mr. Alexi has arrived. He says he has something important to discuss.”

The Duke of Orléans was somewhat surprised. Alexi was Vezinier’s right-hand man—what could be going on at the High Court?

After hearing what Alexi had to say in his study, the Duke’s heart sank—someone had voted in favor of registering the tax bill! This was madness!

The High Court, once considered the most steadfast bulwark against royal power, was now showing cracks!

Panicked, he ordered the steward to summon the members of the Court of Nobles to the Royal Palace.

...

Versailles Palace.

Joseph opened the unaddressed letter carefully and began to read.

The content was brief, summarizing today’s vote at the High Court regarding the tax bill. While the bill nearly passed, it was ultimately suppressed by Vezinier’s power as Chief Justice.

The letter ended by stating that they would continue to seek a solution.

Joseph furrowed his brow. He hadn’t expected that, despite having the upper hand, the noble faction would discard all pretense and rely on the position of one Chief Justice to hold up the bill.

The election for the Chief Justice was still two years away, but he didn’t have that much time.

He lightly tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking quickly. The current situation made it clear: the only way forward was to remove Vezinier as this stumbling block.

Table of content - Next Chapter >>>