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The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 15
🕑 Added 2025-02-14 02:22:45 +0000 UTCChapter 15: Political Capital
Joseph felt a lingering fear. At this moment, no matter whether it was the bureaucratic factions, the nobility, the church, capitalists, or foreign powers, every step of his reforming France risked touching their interests. A single misstep could trigger a frenzied backlash.
In other words, incidents like Guizot’s underhanded tactics were bound to happen again and again, leaving Joseph defenseless against them.
How could he avoid being caught off guard?
He gazed out the window, his fingers tapping the armrest of his seat as he sank into deep thought.
To avoid being sabotaged, it would be best to detect potential threats in advance and uncover any schemes targeting him.
It would also be ideal to have a professional team to help eliminate such threats in their infancy. To achieve that, he would need numerous eyes and ears to gather intelligence on his behalf.
Additionally, he would require a command center to analyze and summarize information and devise countermeasures, which could then be executed according to his instructions.
At this thought, several names flashed through Joseph’s mind—CIA, KGB, MI6.
If he had such a professional intelligence agency under his control, he wouldn’t have to feel like a blind and deaf man in the face of the machinations of various factions. This would ensure that his plans to reform France could proceed uninterrupted.
In fact, France already had a ready-made intelligence agency—the secret police.
However, Joseph knew they were entirely unreliable. They excelled only at petty tasks such as intercepting letters, eavesdropping on conversations, and conducting aimless surveillance.
Even those tasks were poorly executed, often leading to exposure and giving the secret police a dreadful reputation.
Therefore, building an intelligence team from scratch seemed far more reliable.
Not only could he use modern concepts to guide and train them, but their loyalty would also be much higher.
The only problem was that even a single secret police organization had already provoked public outrage throughout France. Creating another one would likely make him the target of universal condemnation.
Joseph frowned. How could he do this discreetly?
And where would he find the manpower?
Ultimately, it boiled down to his weakness and lack of political capital. It was truly difficult...
Prolonged contemplation began to give him a headache, accompanied by a bout of coughing.
Shaking his head with a bitter smile, Joseph acknowledged his frail body, which had long been plagued by chronic pneumonia. Recently, the poor living conditions in the Saint-Antoine District had caused a relapse, reminding him that improving his physical health also needed to be prioritized.
The carriage suddenly began to slow. Joseph looked at Eymond. “Have we arrived?”
“Not yet, Your Highness,” the attendant replied, leaning out of the window to shout a query. “What’s going on up front?”
A guard quickly approached from the leading carriage, bowing as he reported, “Your Highness, the Minister of the Interior, Count Morneau, happened to pass by and wishes to greet you in person.”
Happened to pass by? Joseph glanced at Eymond with a questioning look.
The latter leaned in and said quietly, “Your Highness, this might have something to do with Guizot.”
Hearing about their connection, Joseph’s thoughts stirred. Lacking influence in the cabinet had been a major concern, but perhaps this was political capital presenting itself.
He nodded to the guard and said, “Invite Count Morneau into my carriage.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
A moment later, a man in his fifties appeared at the carriage door. He had narrow brown eyes, wavy shoulder-length hair, and a powdered face. Handing his cane to a servant, he offered a deep bow. “What a fortunate coincidence to meet the Crown Prince here.”
Joseph returned the courtesy politely, inviting him inside and pushing a plate of pastries toward him. “These were sent by Her Majesty the Queen. Please, have a taste.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Morneau picked up a piece, feigning surprise and delight as he praised it extravagantly. Then, as if remembering something, he gestured for a servant to bring over a wooden box. Smiling, he said, “I recently acquired a fine dagger that complements Your Highness’s heroic spirit perfectly. Allow me to present it to you.”
“Oh? I must thank you, Count Morneau.”
After accepting the box, Joseph noticed Morneau shifting to small talk. “Your Highness, many things have happened recently in Paris.”
“Indeed,” Joseph replied.
“Some officials’ conduct has been truly regrettable,” Morneau remarked humbly, his tone laced with deference. He sighed. “Guizot, for instance—he was once a very upright man. Who would have thought he...”
Joseph opened the wooden box, cutting him off with a smile. “If there’s something you wish to say, feel free to speak directly.”
“Well, well,” Morneau responded earnestly. “In the past, I recommended Guizot purely because of his competence. I had no knowledge of his actions; otherwise, I would have done everything in my power to stop him.
“Fortunately, Your Highness, with your exceptional wisdom, saw through his malicious schemes and averted this disaster.”
Guizot had once been Morneau’s protégé and had been promoted to the position of Police Superintendent under his sponsorship. The current scandal made it impossible for Morneau to completely distance himself from the fallout.
Despite his high position, Morneau had little knowledge of the situation as Guizot remained in the custody of the royal police. Unable to approach the Queen directly, Morneau had waited along the Crown Prince’s route back to Versailles to probe him.
“Your Highness, what charges are being brought against Guizot?” he asked.
Joseph appeared engrossed in examining the gem-encrusted scimitar, casually replying, “Inciting a riot, I believe.”
Morneau’s body stiffened. Inciting a riot was a grave crime, tantamount to treason. If proven, there was no way he could escape unscathed.
Awkwardly laughing, he muttered, “He wouldn’t dare...”
“Would he?” Joseph placed the scimitar down and handed him a statement. “The royal police delivered this earlier today. It details how Guizot orchestrated a large group of thugs to attack the police station in the Saint-Antoine District. Oh, I happened to be at the station at the time.”
Sweeping through the document, cold sweat drenched Morneau. Though he doubted Guizot had the motive for rebellion, the evidence presented made the charge plausible.
Flustered, he cursed Guizot under his breath before turning to Joseph with a pitiful expression. “Your Highness, is there any room for negotiation in this matter?”
Joseph blinked, then replied, “Some say Guizot incited a riot. I’m not so sure. After all, I was the only one who witnessed the events firsthand.”
“Exactly!” Morneau nodded eagerly. “Please, Your Highness, do explain the truth to Her Majesty the Queen.”
“We’ll discuss this matter in due course.” Joseph picked up the scimitar again, testing its balance. “Recently, I’ve been preparing to prove to my mother that I am capable of serving as Assistant to the Minister of Finance.”
The sudden change in topic left Morneau momentarily stunned. Then he recalled that the Crown Prince had indeed proposed this role during a cabinet meeting. Hastily, he declared, “No one is more qualified for the position than Your Highness! The cabinet meeting is the day after tomorrow; I will personally propose that you be appointed Assistant to the Minister of Finance!
“Oh, and I can persuade Bishop Brienne to support you as well!”
Bishop Brienne, the current Minister of Finance and the Prime Minister, held the highest authority under the Crown.
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