"What do you want to discuss?" Vézinier turned his head, looking at Dibourne with suspicion. "There's no need for debate on this bill. The conclusion can only be that it won't be registered!"
Dibourne gestured toward the thick crowd of protesters outside the window. "President, listen to their voices. Maybe it's ti for us to reconsider this matter."
The judge across from him, with dark circles under his eyes that covered half his face, rubbed his bloodshot eyes and yawned, nodding. "I think we need to resolve this sohow... maybe adjusting the bill a bit isn't out of the question."
He had barely slept the previous night because people kept throwing stones at his villa, breaking several windows. The won and children in his house cried throughout the night.
On his way to the High Court that morning, the rooftops were filled with citizens hurling insults and tiles at his carriage, injuring the driver's hands. He was already fed up with the whole situation and just wanted the protesters to disperse so he could have so peace at ho. So when Dibourne spoke up, he was quick to consider agreeing.
Another short-statured judge also nodded slightly.
The judge with the hooked nose, seated beside Vézinier, frowned. "You want us to listen to those commoners out there and make things difficult for all respectable people?"
"If this bill is beneficial, then the respectable people shouldn't have any difficulties with it," said the judge with the perpetually surprised expression, giving Dibourne a look.
Dibourne closed the bill in front of him and looked around at everyone. "If we don't want to discuss the bill's contents, then let's go straight to a vote."
Vézinier's gaze swept across their faces, and he coldly said, "Do you realize what you're suggesting? Rejection of this bill is the consensus of all the nobles. There's no need for a vote!"
"It's not a consensus," Dibourne shook his head. "I insist that we let the key mbers of this council vote."
The "key mbers" referred to the core judges of the High Court's internal governing body, currently six in number. They had significant authority and could decide most of the court's matters through their etings.
Dibourne raised his hand first. "I believe the tax bill should be registered."
The perpetually surprised judge followed suit. "I agree."
The judge with the dark circles hesitated, thinking about how the High Court had beco a symbol of corruption and depravity. Just two days ago, even the courtesans had refused to serve him. He slowly raised his hand.
Three key mbers had defected, instantly shifting the mood in the eting room.
The short-statured judge, feeling worn down by the protesters, glanced around and was about to raise his hand when Vézinier suddenly stood up, shouting, "I will not allow this bill to be registered!"
He pointed at the judge with the dark circles. "Count Wadie, who supported your appointnt as a judge? Are you going to betray them?"
Then he turned to the shortest judge. "Viscount Orlar, I should remind you of Duke Aiguillon's stance on the bill!"
As the president of the High Court, Vézinier carried significant authority, and his words sent a shiver down Judge Orlar's spine, causing him to quickly lower his hand. Count Wadie, on the other hand, wavered, his hand going up and down several tis, unsure of what to do.
Dibourne also stood up, protesting, "I object! Count Vézinier, you are threatening the freedom to vote!"
Ignoring Dibourne, Vézinier waited until Count Wadie finally placed his hand back on the table, then waved dismissively. "That's enough for today. The eting is adjourned."
...
At the Palais-Royal, Duke of Orléans frowned as he looked at the sample booklet in his hand. "Viscount Laclos, this is too short. I need at least 3,000 words per story to boost sales."
Standing before him, Viscount Laclos looked troubled. "Your Grace, I'm really at my limit. This is all I could write after staying up all night."
He glanced at the Italian-looking man beside him. "Mr. Brissot hasn't even submitted anything..."
The Duke of Orléans grabbed a thick booklet nearby and, with a hint of anger in his voice, said, "But their stories are over 7,000 words long! At this rate, who's going to buy ours?"
Laclos and Brissot were both deeply frustrated. They were among the most prominent novelists of their ti. Laclos, in particular, had once beco famous throughout Paris with his novel Dangerous Liaisons, inspiring countless French writers to title their books with "Dangerous" or "Liaisons" to ride on his coattails.
This ti, he had prepared a brilliant novel for the Duke's booklet. But he soon found that he couldn't keep up with the pace. Under normal circumstances, writing 3,000 words of plot in a week was his limit. Now the Duke wanted him to produce that in just three days, which was impossible!
He couldn't understand how those writers under the pseudonyms "Silkworm and Potato" and "Octopus in Water" could effortlessly churn out over 7,000 words every three days! Did they not need to plan their stories?
For the first ti, Laclos began to doubt his own writing talent.
As for Brissot, he had already given up and was considering a career change.
The Duke of Orléans knew that he had lost control of the narrative. The increasing number of protesters outside the High Court was proof of that, and he felt powerless to fight back.
Just as he was feeling overwheld, the butler knocked on the door and announced, "Sir, Mr. Alexis is here with an urgent matter."
The Duke of Orléans was surprised. Alexis was one of Vézinier's trusted aides. What could be happening at the High Court?
When he heard Alexis's report in his study, the Duke was shocked—soone had voted to approve the tax bill's registration! This was madness!
What had been seen as the most impregnable fortress against royal authority was now showing cracks!
He quickly ordered the butler to gather the mbers of the Assembly of Notables for a eting at the Palais-Royal.
...
At Versailles, Joseph carefully read through an unsigned letter.
The letter was brief, summarizing the voting process in the High Court regarding the tax bill. Although it had almost been approved, Vézinier ultimately used his authority as the president to block it.
The letter concluded by saying that they would continue to work on a solution.
Joseph frowned. Despite his gaining the upper hand, the noble faction was now shalessly relying on the president's position to stall the bill. But the next presidential election was two years away, and he didn't have that much ti.
He tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking quickly. Given the current situation, Vézinier needed to be removed as the stumbling block in their path.
(End of Chapter)
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