Brienne asked in confusion, "Are you saying the Church?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Joseph said, tapping his forehead. "Actually, I'll need your help with this."
When Brienne heard that Archbishops Beaumont, Dufleur, and others had agreed to provide "private grain" to fill the food shortages in the southern provinces, he was overjoyed. "How did you convince them?"
In truth, he was more curious about how Joseph knew that the clergy had stockpiled a large amount of grain. When Brienne was in Toulouse, he had his clergy do sothing similar, but after becoming Pri Minister, he had no interest in such small profits.
"I proposed the establishnt of the Church Cultural Developnt Company and the sale of new 'indulgences,'" Joseph explained briefly, then instructed, "First, draft the order to summon the officers back. We'll discuss the details later."
"Understood, Your Highness."
Although Brienne still believed that using the military to maintain order was necessary, he nodded and prepared to carry out Joseph's instructions, trusting in the Prince.
However, after taking a few steps, he turned back with a slight frown. "Your Highness, about the second part of this order... Maybe it would be better for the High Court to judge whether to charge them with treason."
Joseph was a bit surprised. Wasn't this still an era where the rule of law was less established? Why was Brienne so concerned with procedural justice?
Noticing Joseph's reaction, Brienne quickly explained, "Your Highness, if we directly accuse these officers of treason in the King's na, it could cause fear among the nobles, even pushing many neutral nobles to sympathize with the ambitious ones."
Joseph imdiately understood. He had indeed acted too hastily. These officers were, after all, stationed in their posts as part of their duties, and they could find plenty of reasons to refuse to co to Paris. Accusing them of treason for this could make other nobles feel that the royal family was acting arbitrarily, making them wonder if they too might be accused of a serious cri for any minor disagreent with the Crown.
This would touch the very nerve of the noble class.
Joseph nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. Then we'll just sternly order the officers to co to Paris, warning them that the consequences will be severe if they disobey."
He then muttered to himself, "Looks like we need to find a way to make them really commit treason..."
After Brienne left, Joseph took out the list he had previously selected and began writing personal letters to the senior officers on it. He then had the Queen sign them and sent them out.
Next, he summoned Mirabeau, Bailly, and other leaders of the capitalist nobility, handing them a docunt he had prepared earlier, with careful instructions.
By the ti all these tasks were done, the sky was completely dark. Despite his exhaustion, Joseph took his dinner with him and boarded a carriage bound for the Paris Army camp.
As the carriage sped through the night, Joseph looked out at the stars and sighed while chewing on so salted beef. I'm really wearing myself out for the sake of France...
Montpellier.
In the hunting grounds of the Count of Serurier's estate, the Marquis of Saint-Véran gently tugged at his reins, gazing at the long rows of tents of the Montcalm Army in the distance. He turned to the Duke of Orléans beside him and asked, "Do you think the royal family will agree to those terms?"
The Duke, also guiding his horse leisurely, responded calmly, "With riots on such a large scale, the royal family is under imnse financial and public pressure. It will severely damage their prestige. That Austrian woman has no other choice; she'll have to agree, at least partially."
"And which terms can we allow her to exclude?"
"Any of them," the Duke replied with a shrug of indifference. "As long as she makes so concessions, you and the other generals can move to quell the riots."
The outrageous conditions he had presented to the Queen were rely a smokescreen. He never expected the royal family to accept them.
His real goal was to give the military an appropriate excuse to mobilize!
The rioters posed virtually no threat, especially since they had been incited by his own people. Quelling them would be easy.
Once the troops were on the move, it wouldn't be so simple to get them back to their posts.
The military, bearing the prestige of having suppressed the riots, could then claim there were still uprisings occurring, moving troops northward to form a semi-circle around Paris. If the northwestern provinces had been prepared, they would have almost completely surrounded the city.
With the royal family's limited military resources, they would be left in panic. The High Assembly could then lead the nobility in pressing the royal family even harder.
At that point, the demands they could make would go far beyond what they had asked for previously.
According to the Duke's plan, he should at least beco the Regent. To achieve this, he had already arranged a marriage between his son Philippe and the daughter of the influential military figure, the Marquis de Luckner.
Once in power, the Duke would restore the royal authority to what it was before Louis XIV—noble lords with a high degree of autonomy.
And after that, as the powerful Regent, he could do whatever he wanted with the royal family!
As the Duke of Orléans contemplated how he would tornt the entire family of Louis XVI, he casually remarked to the Marquis, "From Brittany to Provence, everything is in place. The armies have a total of 80,000 troops. In the north, General Ourtoulle and his forces will join us."
The Marquis of Saint-Véran looked at him and asked, "Your Grace, with such a large-scale military operation, what about logistics?"
The Duke responded nonchalantly, "I will provide funding for the troops. Besides, the Duke of Duras and the Marquis of Mouchy will also mobilize resources to supply the army."
The financial support was another reason the Duke had beco the core of the military's plan. Before this sche, he had already distributed over ten million livres among more than twenty high-ranking military officers.
To topple the royal family, he was prepared to spend his entire fortune of over fifty million livres. He was confident that he could outspend the royal family in military expenses alone.
And that was just his cash and bonds. His fixed assets amounted to astronomical figures. Every year, the royal family paid him an annual pension of three million livres. The Duke of Orléans' lineage also controlled vast estates, so it wasn't an exaggeration to say he was as wealthy as a nation.
"That's wonderful," the Marquis said with a pleased expression. "So, when do you think the Queen's envoy will arrive?"
"Should be soon..." the Duke was saying when they saw a servant of the Count of Serurier riding towards them at full speed. The servant greeted them and said, "Your Grace, Marquis, soone from Versailles has arrived."
The Duke and the Marquis exchanged a smile. "Let's go see."
When they returned to the Count of Serurier's villa, they didn't notice the strange look on the Count's face.
The Duke of Orléans settled comfortably into a chair and said to the royal envoy, "So, tell us, which of our terms has the Queen agreed to?"
Before the envoy could reply, the Count handed the Duke a docunt bearing the royal seal.
The Duke glanced at the docunt and suddenly leaped to his feet in shock.
The Marquis of Saint-Véran leaned over to see what had startled him. The docunt contained only a few simple lines, mainly ordering all officers of the rank of major and above to report to Versailles imdiately.
He looked at the envoy and, still thinking in his previous mindset, asked, "The Queen didn't order the troops to suppress the riots?"
The envoy nodded and pointed to the docunt. "This is all there is, Marquis."
The Marquis, now sowhat agitated, asked, "Which of our terms did the Queen reject? We can discuss this..."
The envoy remained impassive. "There are no other instructions, Marquis. Please just sign here to confirm receipt of the orders."
The Marquis, the Duke, and the Count exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of what to do next.
They had anticipated many possible responses from the Queen, but they hadn't expected her to simply ignore the riots.
It was as if they had gathered all their strength for a final blow, only to find that their opponent had vanished into thin air, leaving them with nothing to strike.
"But what about the riots?" the Marquis asked, grabbing the envoy. "My troops are ready, just waiting for..."
"You can ask the Queen in person at Versailles," the envoy replied politely, bowing. "I have no further instructions."
The Duke of Orléans suddenly stepped forward and asked, "What about the other provinces? Are they ignoring the riots too?"
"As far as I know, it seems that way, Your Grace. Except for Bordeaux and Lyon, the other southern provinces should have received the sa orders."
Bordeaux, being the largest potato-growing region in France, hadn't faced significant food shortages, so there were no riots.
In Lyon, as soon as signs of food shortages appeared, the textile guild quickly organized the city's factories, gathering their overseers and security staff to form temporary patrols, which soon dispersed the rioters.
This was mainly because, after the Paris Fashion Week, Lyon's textile factories had been doing quite well, and the industry guild had set aside a large sum of money to pay bonuses to the patrols, ensuring that the factories remained operational during the unrest.
After the envoy left, the Marquis of Saint-Véran looked at the Duke of Orléans with so embarrassnt. "Your Grace, what should we do? Should we go to Paris...?"
"No! Absolutely not!" the Duke replied, his face darkening. "I refuse to believe that Austrian woman will ignore the riots. Stay here; she'll have to give in!"
The Marquis hesitated. "But what if she doesn't?"
The Duke clenched his teeth. "Then we'll march..."
The Marquis imdiately shook his head firmly. "No, no, moving troops without orders would be outright rebellion!"
He was bold enough to seize the chaos to pressure the throne, but he wasn't willing to outright rebel. That would only lead to the royal family fleeing abroad, inviting foreign intervention, and eventually the royal family's return—at which point, the rebels would be heading to the guillotine.
He knew the Duke of Orléans wanted to seize the throne, but he had no desire to be the stepping stone for soone else's ambitions.
But he also knew that after threatening the royal family like this, his political career would be over if he went to Paris.
After much deliberation, he finally made up his mind. "I think it's safest to wait and see."
The Duke of Orléans, his face grim, returned to his room and wrote letters to the twenty-so military leaders, urging them to hold their ground and wait for the royal family to give in.
Two days later.
The starving masses of Montpellier sward through the city like locusts, taking every bit of food they could find.
The Baron of Laurent's villa was in shambles.
In the maid's quarters, a filthy old man found a small piece of bread in a cupboard and excitedly waved it at a little boy nearby. "Alessi, look what I found..."
Before he could finish speaking, a woman suddenly appeared, snatched the bread, and stuffed it into her mouth.
The old man, angry and shocked, pointed at the woman. "You...you thief! That was for the child..."
Before he could finish, a little girl, about five or six years old, entered the room carrying a baby. She weakly said to the woman, "Mommy, sister..."
The woman imdiately grabbed the baby and began chewing the bread before feeding it to the infant, her voice trembling with urgency. "Swallow it, Eliane, quickly!"
She had been so hungry that she had no milk left to feed her baby. This was the only way she could try to nourish her dying child.
The baby's cheeks puffed out as if she had swallowed the food.
The woman's eyes lit up with hope. She was about to chew more bread for the baby when suddenly, the bread was snatched from her hands. She turned to see the old man had taken it back.
"Please, give it back!" she begged hoarsely, her voice cracking with desperation. "Eliane won't make it..."
But the old man was unmoved, giving the bread to his grandson. "I'm sorry, but Alessi is starving too."
The woman handed the baby to her older daughter and, using the last of her strength, tried to grab the food from the boy. The old man, equally determined, held her back.
"Alessi, eat quickly!"
"Please, just leave a little for Eliane!"
As the two weakly struggled, a shout ca from outside:
"Head to the church! They're handing out food!"
"They're also giving out food at the Adigé parish!"
The pair stopped, looking at each other before letting go. The woman, seeing that the bread was gone, quickly grabbed her daughter's hand and hurried toward the church.
The old man, taking the baby from the older child, followed them. "Let help carry her. We'll get there faster."
They joined the desperate crowd surging toward the southern part of the city, where they saw that the priests were indeed handing out black bread. The crowd was so large that they nearly toppled the church's fences.
After standing in line for half an hour, both the woman and the old man received a pound and a half of bread each, which they quickly devoured with their children.
Afterward, as the woman watched her youngest daughter, finally sated and making little chewing motions with her mouth, she silently bowed to the priest.
The priest, crossing himself, said to the surrounding people who were also bowing, "You should thank the rciful Lord, not ."
Another priest beside him added, "And the respected King, Queen, and Prince! The food was distributed by the royal family and the Church together."
The crowd imdiately began to cross themselves, and then they started shouting, "Long live the King!"
No longer hungry and reassured by the priests' promise that more food would be distributed tomorrow, the people tiredly returned ho.
anwhile, the dozens of gang mbers who had been paid to incite riots continued shouting from a distance:
"Who's coming with to the Baron of Enroll's house? There's sure to be food there!"
The people simply looked at them with indifference, but few responded.
(End of Chapter)
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