Chapter 53: Poisoned Chalice (1)
Chapter 53: Poisoned Chalice(1)
“Citizen Louis Auguste?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. The world will change going forward. Citizens will begin to take the lead in running worldly affairs. The age of kings and lords is setting, and now the age of citizens is coming.”
“…Do you have any proof?”
“Isn’t Your Majesty already being tormented by those ‘proofs’?”
“Mm…”
“It’s a change that was already foreseen, and it is the future that is coming. If Your Majesty continues to hold the throne in your hands and tries to wield absolute royal authority, you will inevitably collide with those ‘proofs.’”
Louis stared into empty space for a moment at my words, then looked back into my eyes and asked.
“Finance Minister—who do you think will win that fight?”
“I don’t know. Your Majesty may win a few battles, but I think the citizens will win the war. If so, I don’t think Your Majesty’s end will be very good.”
“…Citizens. If I become ‘Citizen Louis Auguste,’ how does that fight unfold?”
“Your Majesty will now fight the outdated ones together with the citizens. As France’s friend—Citizen Louis Auguste.”
“…”
At my words, the king closed his mouth and sank into thought. Watching him, I spoke again.
“Whether you keep clinging to the setting sun and fall with it, or stand beside the rising sun and join in pushing that sun high into the sky—that is up to Your Majesty.”
Or just think of it as making that traitor Orleans eat shit. I added.
The king, who had been silent, stared at me with a look of disbelief at my added remark.
What. If you don’t like that either, then just prepare diligently to become a wannabe dullahan.
“…Citizen Louis. Citizen Louis Auguste…”
In the silent bedroom where there was no one but himself, Louis XVI lay in bed, endlessly replaying the one sentence left behind by a Finance Minister who wasn’t even twenty yet.
The day he first became king—the day the entire civil and military court knelt before him, removed their hats, and paid him homage.
To Louis, that day had been the happiest day since becoming king.
Because after that, he hadn’t been happy even once.
Louis Auguste wanted to become a dignified sovereign like his great-grandfather Louis XIV. He wanted to lead France across every corner of Europe, subdue enemies, rule over all under heaven with strong power, and reign.
He wanted all people to live at ease and praise his name loudly.
“…It was all nothing but vain delusions.”
Staring at the ceiling of the lavishly decorated bed, Louis XVI said in a small voice.
“Citizen… Louis Auguste…”
He again chewed over the words left behind by that upstart Finance Minister and closed his eyes.
As the whole world turned dark, the image of the Finance Minister—shorter than him by a head—moving his mouth rose vividly in Louis’s mind.
“The age of citizens… the age of citizens…”
After repeating it for a long while, Louis rose from bed and, still in his nightclothes, stood by the window.
Versailles Palace at midnight was quiet.
But that quiet felt uncomfortable to Louis XVI.
It was a quiet as if everyone in the world except Louis had vanished and only Louis remained—a quiet that seemed to tell him, “There is no one else who will decide for you.”
“…Even I think I’m the very peak of indecisiveness. Maybe it’s better this way.”
Looking at the bright moon that had risen to take the sun’s place after the daytime sun had hidden itself, Louis said.
If he couldn’t be the sun that lit up the whole world, then a softly shining moon would be better.
And while he was at it, he could make that Orleans bastard eat shit, too.
“What kind of person is the Duke of Orléans, exactly?”
After finishing my audience with the king, I returned to my quarters and asked Father Sieyès.
“…What did you just say?”
“What kind of person is the Duke of Orléans, Father?”
At my question, Father Sieyès looked at me as if it was absurd, then slowly said,
“A man who calls himself Finance Minister shouldn’t be ignorant of him.”
No, I’m not exactly running around everywhere—I’m stuck in my room every day playing with numbers or getting into brawls in the Assembly, so I can not know, too. Seriously.
“The Duke of Orléans is one of the greatest patrons of us Enlightenment men. The reason Paris could take the Bastille and move in an organized way is all thanks to the duke’s material and moral support.”
“Riiight?”
Hmph. If what I heard from Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI was true, he sounded more like… how should I put it—an absolute bastard.
“But why are you asking that all of a sudden?”
“No. I just heard the name a few times and got curious what kind of person he was.”
“…Are you plotting something strange again?”
“Whaaat? Why are you doing this too, Father? When have I ever done something strange!?”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Well—there were some hardships and trials in the middle, so I had no choice but to use… what should I call it. Right—stratagems! I only used stratagems.”
“…”
Seriously. How do people see me? Why do I have to meet those looks ten times a day.
“Anyway, if what you say is true, he must be quite an admirable man.”
“Well, you could say that.”
Father Sieyès nodded.
Hmph. Then either the royal side lied about Orléans, or that man wears a mask and acts very well—one of the two.
Is there any benefit to the royal family in feeding me lies about Orléans?
I don’t think so.
Then if Orléans is wearing a mask?
From the start, if a royal with a claim to the throne supports the revolutionary forces, nine times out of ten it’s for the purpose of seizing the throne—so the circumstantial suspicion is plenty, and as the king said, there’s also the possibility Orléans took the lead in bringing in the mercenaries.
All in all, I can’t be certain yet, but the theory that Orléans is wearing a mask is plausible.
If that’s true, then this Orléans bastard is basically the same as those North Korean bastards sitting on the 38th parallel—two-faced tactics at an absolutely impressive level.
Now I just need hard evidence.
The next morning.
Versailles Palace, the War Room.
“I hereby formally recognize Guillaume de Toulon, Finance Minister elected by the National Assembly, and I hereby approve all policies implemented by the Finance Minister thus far. You are now the duly appointed official Finance Minister of the Kingdom of France, formally appointed by me.”
“…Why are you doing this all of a sudden, Your Majesty?”
Called to the War Room the moment I woke up, I spoke, and Louis XVI brought his hand to his mouth, cleared his throat, then said,
“Well… do you not know etiquette? No—if you were the sort to care about etiquette, you wouldn’t have said such obscene things to my face, like I hid behind the throne.”
“I come from being a businessman who sold bread to laborers in the marketplace. Please understand, Your Majesty.”
“No. Rather than acting like an eel and doing filthy things behind the scenes, it seems better to speak openly like you do.”
What’s with him—yesterday he was snarling at me, and now he suddenly got all docile.
Louis XVI continued.
“If a king is stepping down, isn’t it improper for the chancellor to be only temporary? That is why.”
“…Pardon?”
Did you not hear me? I intend, as you said, to step down.
No—he’d only heard my words half a day ago.
Unlike my dumbfounded face, Louis spoke with a relieved expression.
“I am weak and indecisive. From the start, I am not a man fit to be a sovereign. Rather, Finance Minister, as you said—‘Citizen Louis Auguste’ suits me better.”
Right. Now I just go to the Assembly and say I’m renouncing the throne?
The king added with a grin.
Uh—no?
“…Why is that?”
“You still haven’t made Orléans eat shit.”
“…Did you say that in earnest?”
“A businessman goes under if he speaks two different things with one mouth, Your Majesty.”
Louis nodded with his hands clasped behind his back, as if telling me to say more.
Operation: Make Orléans Eat Shit_1.16 lib version. Beginning now.
“I really, truly can’t stand that the Church has property, Your Majesty. In the world, those bastards who can’t properly make a single coin or a single loaf of bread fill their bellies with goods while going on about tithes and whatnot.”
“…And?”
“So I plan to draft a policy in the Assembly soon that will allow us to reclaim the property of the Church and the clergy. Of course, the Church will resist immensely. If it gets bad, even the Pope in Italy might fly into a rage and go berserk.”
“Ah. You want me to support you.”
Yes, that’s right! You catch on fast!
Given what it is, having only the Queen’s backing feels a bit uneasy. But if the king backs it too? If the person who could become the rallying point of the conservative forces supports it, it’s basically the same as passing.
“That is correct. And please transfer every regiment under your military power to the National Guard, except for the Guards stationed in Versailles.”
Louis frowned, but soon recovered his composure and said,
“…It sits poorly with me, but very well.”
“And yesterday, didn’t you say Orléans egged you on to have Versailles struck with the Flanders mercenary regiment? Do you have any item that could serve as material evidence?”
“…I do. He told me to burn it, but how could I trust him.”
Good. Very, very good. The pieces are clicking into place.
“Good. Keep the evidence yourself, Your Majesty. My plan is this: right before you hand the throne to Orléans, we must pass both the reclamation of Church property and the restriction of the king’s military power at the same time, without Paris noticing.”
“So we cut off all the king’s arms and legs and hand the throne to Orléans.”
“That is correct. If he is as greedy as you say, won’t he suffer at least twice as much as you did? And if Orléans does something foolish after becoming king…”
“With the evidence, we could even cut off Orléans’s lifeline.”
Louis threw his mouth corners up to his ears and laughed loudly.
“Good, Finance Minister! Let’s make that greedy bastard eat shit once!”
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