Chapter 104: Shine or Go Mad (8)
Chapter 104: Shine or Go Mad (8)
August 30, 1790.
Kingdom of France, outskirts of Paris, 12th district.
Saint-Maur-des-Fossés.
“Gentlemen! Paris is in sight! Are you ready to each receive a flower garland around your neck?!”
“Yes, Lieutenant Murat!”
“Good! That’s my company! Every last one of you, make sure you seduce at least one high-nosed Parisian lady by tonight! If anyone fails and comes trudging back to camp like a useless bastard, I’ll strip him naked myself, tie him behind my horse, and personally give him a sightseeing tour of Paris!”
“Yes, Lieutenant Murat!”
The soldiers who had spent last night and this dawn in camp polishing their uniforms to a shine, pressing sharp creases, and shining their boots, grinned at their company commander’s words and shouted back.
“Hoho, the troops look to be in very high spirits, Commander.”
“They do. Seeing them smile puts me in a good mood too, General Kellermann.”
“Then shall we lift the restriction on the soldiers’ leave for today?”
“Yes, I’d appreciate that. They’re men who went in and came back out with their lives on the line.”
“Hoho, understood, Commander.”
“Still… the welcoming crowd is even more enormous than I expected.”
Lafayette took off his hat and raised it high, waving it in the air.
“La! La! Lafayette! Gi! Gi! Guillaume de Toulon!”
“Long live the citizens’ shield, the National Guard!”
“Long live the Revolution!!”
“To the guillotine with the rebels and Orléans!”
Countless citizens poured out, waving tricolor flags and hanging flower garlands around the necks of every soldier they could reach.
“Kyaaa! I love you!”
“Mmph-mmph—women of Paris! Lieutenant Joachim Murat’s lips still have plenty to spare! Wahahahaha!!”
“Put one more flower around your neck!”
“No, I already have three.”
“Oh my, then you can wear one more!”
“C-corporal, I can’t see in front of me because of these flowers…”
Flowers piled up like mountains around the National Guardsmen’s necks, and here and there, under unexpected enemy attacks, countless Guardsmen had their lips forcibly stolen as well.
August 30. On a bright, hot summer day, all of Paris filled with laughter.
Commander Lafayette grinned and spoke to me.
“The welcome celebration is grand in every way, Minister.”
“Haha, I put in some work. Why, don’t you like it?”
“As if. What soldier in the world wouldn’t be glad to accept honor? Thank you, Minister.”
“Hearing the recipient say they’re happy… that makes it feel worth giving.”
Yeah, do you have any idea how much I worked for this welcome event? I placed event advertisements in Forbes and Maxim at the same time, and I ran around a lot to raise funds too.
Of course, the ones who really ran were Mr. Florian and Mr. Peshiong. Still, since I was the one who suggested it, it felt like I could claim some credit.
“But, Minister.”
“Yes, Commander Lafayette.”
“Why is Dumouriez doing that over there?”
“Ah. That guy?”
I looked where Commander Lafayette pointed and shook my head.
“Everyone! What is ‘beloved’?! ‘Beloved’ is precisely the paradise of freedom and equality led by us revolutionaries, everyoooone!”
“……But General Dumouriez, weren’t you a royalist?”
“A royalist?! What are you saying! I, Dumouriez, have long admired liberalism, everyone!”
“Then why did you become that bastard Orléans’ Royal Guard commander?”
When several citizens nodded and stared at Dumouriez with suspicion, Dumouriez shed tears in big drops and said,
“Why?! Because I, Dumouriez, was lost in the deepest of thoughts, everyone! And what were those thoughts?! What could I possibly do for the citizens of France! I wandered in search of what I, Dumouriez, could devote myself to!”
“Hmmm…”
“And so Dumouriez decided! Enter enemy territory and carve out the enemy’s heart with my own hands! While protecting citizens’ safety, the only way to root out Orléans and those counterrevolutionaries was this! Ah—how long a time of endurance did I spend at the side of that cunning, wicked Orléans!”
France’s innocent class flailed both arms, blasting a sun-energy-beam cannon in every direction from the top of his head.
So that was why he insisted on attending the victory event? If there were some kind of scouter or sensor that detected political power, I wanted to see what score it would spit out.
“General Dumouriez really is a capable man, right, Commander?”
“……I’m pretty sure he wasn’t like that when I met him back when he was deputy director of the logistics department.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Over ten years, Minister.”
What happened over ten years that turned a capable soldier into a mouth-fighter like that?
Yeah, politics was terrifying. Good guy Guillaume didn’t do that, so thank goodness!
At the same time.
Palace of Versailles, National Assembly.
“……Hah. Out of a total of 721 members, 341 in favor, 323 opposed, 57 abstentions. Neither side has exceeded a majority, so we will proceed with a re-vote.”
The chair closed the ballot box and spoke with a sigh.
Groans spread throughout the chamber.
“Ah, fuck… Just stop already!! How many times is this now?!”
“By the time you count today, everyone knows we’ve been doing this here for almost three days straight, right?”
“…Damn it, if we cut Orléans’ throat, it’s war! War! Are you all doing this because you want to die?!”
“Die or not because of war—do you not realize you and I would both already be dead by now if it weren’t for Minister Guillaume and Commander Lafayette?!”
In one noisy corner of the Assembly, Sieyès silently took out a pipe and lit it.
“Suuup… whew. Deputy Mirabeau, what number vote is this now? I stopped counting after the tenth.”
“The fifteenth, Deputy Sieyès.”
Short, stocky Mirabeau dropped down beside Sieyès with a thump and spoke.
“Fifteen… This is rough.”
“Everyone has reason to be exhausted.”
“Deputy Mirabeau.”
“What is it, Deputy Sieyès.”
“What do you think?”
“What—about cutting Orléans’ throat? Or something else?”
“Obviously Orléans.”
“…Well. I still don’t know. And you don’t know either, which is why you’re asking me, isn’t it?”
“Haha. You caught me.”
“Deputy Sieyès, did you happen to cast an abstention?”
“You caught me. Did you also cast an abstention, Deputy Mirabeau?”
Mirabeau nodded without speaking.
“…Politics is difficult. Really difficult.”
“Still, we have to endure it. There’s no help for it.”
“Can’t we try to bring the Orléans matter down for a soft landing?”
“Then you’ll have to speak with Deputy Robespierre to untangle the situation somehow.”
A conversation with the radical Robespierre.
Wait. Wasn’t there exactly one person who could talk to Robespierre and whose mind also worked very coldly and sharply?
“Should we call Guillaume and talk it through, Deputy Mirabeau?”
“Minister Guillaume… Didn’t he leave for Paris because he didn’t want to get tangled in politics anymore? And even if he meets Deputy Robespierre, there’s no guarantee things will go smoothly.”
Just then, from far away, the chair’s voice carried: “Then now… we will conduct the sixteenth vote.”
“Still, it seems better than voting sixteen times.”
“Hm. Fine. That sounds reasonable. I’ll speak to Deputy Robespierre.”
“Then I’ll go to Paris and speak with Guillaume.”
“Good, good. Work hard.”
Sieyès tucked his pipe back inside his clothes and left the Assembly.
Kkagagak! Kkagak!
In a dark heap of stone where only a single candle cast a delicate glow, the unpleasant sound of someone scraping a wall with a stone echoed.
This was Paris’s 3rd district, the Temple Tower of the Temple Monastery.
Kkagagak!
Once more, the ear-grating sound of stone scraping stone rang inside the tower.
The prisoner, incarcerated for the “crime of attempting to harm the safety of French citizens,” scratched the wall again, added one more circle, then murmured lowly.
“…Already. Has it been half a month since I came in here.”
Former king, current prisoner Louis-Philippe d’Orléans II sat weakly on the cold stone floor and kept scraping the wall.
“Huh… huhuhuh…”
After fifteen days alone in solitary confinement, the prisoner Orléans was gradually losing his mind.
“Dumouriez, tell me. Why did you betray me? What did I fail to give you? I gave you power!! I gave you that precious rank!! Didn’t I give you honor too?!”
Facing a crude circle gouged into the stone wall—something you might call a human face if you were being generous—Orléans shouted.
“Hey!! For a prisoner, you’re too damn loud! Shut up!”
“You wretch! How dare you spew such insolence before the august King of France!”
“…Ha. Crazy bastard. Solitary’s scrambled you completely. Eat. It’s mealtime.”
The non-commissioned officer guarding the tower door clicked his tongue, shoved the meal into the room, and stepped away again.
At the sight of the meal—fresh-baked bread, a cutlet fried with breadcrumbs, and even wine, prepared in consideration of his former status—Orléans swallowed hard.
A few seconds later, once he heard the door open and realized the non-commissioned officer had left and no one was watching, Orléans moved to the meal and began shoving down bread and water greedily.
“…To humiliate me like this. I will survive and leave this place, and I will judge you all. Guillaume de Toulon, Lafayette Gilbert du Motier! And Mirabeau! I will flay every last one of you alive.”
Even as he ate, Orléans muttered, seething with rage.
“When Artois… arrives leading the armies of Prussia and Austria, all of you will kneel again beneath my feet. Yes. If I cede Alsace-Lorraine and recognize Prussia’s rights to Flanders on the Dutch side! I can rise again.”
The Count of Artois.
Yes. Even if Orléans’ strongest card had been neutralized at Nancy, the ten thousand troops led by the Count of Artois still remained in Orléans’ hands.
When a person was pushed to the extreme, everyone clung to hollow hope and lived only for it. Orléans, too, began clutching hollow hope to his chest.
“Artois… Provence… will come to save me. Come to save me…”
Lying on the cold stone floor, Orléans tried to sleep again.