Army Purge and the Duel's Shadow
Terray had gone out to issue MEPO bills in preparation for the duel, but I couldn't just sit on my hands. They'd catch on after one or two rounds anyway, and unless I dismantled this Ancien Régime structure entirely, the sparks of revolution would never die out.
The easiest path would be to lead the charge myself, nobles be damned, and flip France upside down... but the country was too fragile for that. Unless the neighboring powers were complete idiots—which they weren't—they'd swarm in the moment civil war broke out. Hell, I wasn't even a world geography major; I had no clue exactly where the Habsburgs held sway or how vast the Holy Roman Empire really was. I knew Prussia was a military powerhouse, but not how strong. In the end, for this era's military might, I had to put my faith in Napoleon. The guy had won damn near every battle.
Hmm.
"Hmmm..."
When was the best time to invest in Napoleon? Born August 15, 1769, he was just a four-year-old brat right now. Noble-born as he was, he'd end up at the military academy sooner or later. I didn't know the man personally, so investing too late might get me stabbed in the back. What if he was some frothing republican who flipped out at the mere mention of the monarchy, yelling "Scourge of the Revolution!" or something? Sure, he'd crowned himself emperor later in life, craving power... but youth had its hot blood. Screw it. I'd snag him the moment he entered the academy. Mold him into a patriotic conservative. Patriotic Conservative Napoleon. Sounds good, right?
August 2, 1774. Paris, Île de la Cité, Parlement.
Napoleon was Napoleon, but what to do about these reactionary nobles who'd been cursing the king nonstop for days over a little tax hike? If I could declare martial law, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but France's constitutional order was a total no-no-no at this point—no martial law possible. The Holy Roman Empire was the same mess; maybe it was just the era.
"Silence! A lit de justice may rankle, but is it not all for France's sake? If a popular revolution erupts from this, will you take responsibility?"
"Your Highness, a popular revolution is overblown worry. Voltaire and Rousseau are all talk, nothing more."
Robespierre wasn't just talk, though.
"Enough. I'm not here for idle nagging at the Parlement. I've come to discuss disarmament."
The reason I'd bothered meeting these judicial nobles I couldn't stand was precisely disarmament. Of course, cutting the army now was risky.
"Your Highness, the army is the heart of national defense. Behold mighty Prussia and the Habsburgs eyeing us hungrily. Without our forces, this land would be Habsburg or Prussian, not France."
The European situation was so volatile even these royal-power-hating magistrates pushed back. They needed a country to carve up their own slices, after all.
Time to play the fool a bit.
"Habsburgs? Isn't France allied to Austria by marriage?"
At my words, the Parlement froze. Some robed nobles even shot me pitying glances.
Yes, that look. Exactly what I wanted.
I ignored the backbiting right in front of me and pressed on. "I know your fears well enough. But Austria isn't barbaric enough to attack its son-in-law's realm."
"What's the problem, exactly? Why can't you trust Austria?"
"Y-Your Highness... Do you know why the Seven Years' War happened?"
"Prussia's ambition, no?"
Sighs rippled through the chamber.
"Your Highness... Yes. If that is your will, the Parlement consents to your disarmament plan."
It couldn't be that they'd sniffed out my loyalty purge, right?
Paris, Tuileries Palace.
After the army purge, the nobles' gazes had shifted oddly. Before, they'd treated me like an enemy behind my back; now, it was pity. Still whispering, sure, but better than outright hostility radiating off them. Even I felt the weight of that enmity.
"Your Highness, the Comptroller-General requests an audience. Shall I admit him?"
"Yes, send him in."
I received Terray seated at my desk like a powerless king.
"Well, Terray? Mission success?"
"Your Highness, disaster."
Damn, knew it. This Hard Mode.
"The MEPO bills... the MEPO bills..."
"Found out?"
Should've picked a tower for confinement ahead of time.
"They're selling too well."
"What?"
"Exactly as it sounds. Send an agent with the notes, and nobles snap up everything—wheat, iron, even pepper—to flaunt their wealth."
"Hah..."
Startled me for nothing.
"They're selling so well, I'm terrified it'll blow our cover."
"Skip luxuries like pepper. Focus on livelihoods, not extravagance."
Whatever the nobles hoarded, flooding the market would do the trick.
"No worries. A duel? Bring it."
Not that it'd happen, but practice couldn't hurt. Those magistrates' eyes at the Parlement looked downright sinister.
"Your Highness, you've never dueled, have you...?"
"Eh?"
Come to think of it, no.
"T-Terray, care to teach me the basics?"
"I'm a financier, not a duelist. Among bureaucrats, I'm bottom-ranked."
"Just show me. Can't say I'm practicing duels in case the king gets caught scamming."
"Kings don't duel. A subject drawing steel on the sacred monarch is treason. But if you insist..."
Huh? Something off. If threatening the king was treason, why expect a duel?
"To the inner courtyard. No one's watching now."
Practice time, anyway. Hope I never need it.
Tuileries Palace, Inner Courtyard.
I arrived first; minutes later, Terray descended with two courtswords. I drew mine from the scabbard—the blade gleamed like silver.
Shiny.
"Terray, this real steel?"
"Yes. No training blunts or dulled sparring blades. These are for duels. We could buy some, but it'd spread rumors across France."
Holding the courtsword one-handed, it felt heavier than expected—not crushing, but wrist-straining. Terray eyed my awkward grip and explained.
"Decorative design. Prioritizes looks over balance or durability. And gripping like that? Fingers get sliced in a strength contest."
He adjusted my hand meticulously.
"Thumb presses index and middle; ring supports them; pinky pushes ring up. Grip tight or you'll drop it. Youth gives you strength, but sloppy hold means any low attack collapses your center, and bye-bye sword."
Proper grip felt solid. Dueling. Screw it.
"Terray, just duel in my place?"
"Leave it to the prosecutors."
"Prosecutors duel for me?"
"Hah, kidding. Sort of."
I wasn't laughing.
"Your Highness, prosecutors exist to prevent duels. Third Estate rabble-rousers and radical Enlightenment types write novels about it, but no prosecutor has ever dueled in French history. Duels are illegal from the start."
"Duels are illegal? Then why do the elite duel all the time?"
"They live above the law."
Ah. I sheathed the blade and paced the courtyard.
"Terray, forget duels. I need to go full dictator."
"Better that way. Their 'decentralization' and 'liberty' only apply to their privileges."
No, not half-measures.
"Terray, this morning I purged the army. Axed 95% of noble officers. Only my loyalists left."
Time for an 18th-century dictatorship unprecedented.
"Then convene the Estates-General to push headcount voting."
I'd studied this.
"Sometimes you cut the few for the many. That's now."
And they weren't close enough to balk at my authoritarianism.
"Your Highness, impossible. The Third Estate is a minority too."
"I know. Girondins would block it."
"Girondins? Anyway, not just that. Why do I say 'privileged classes' not First and Second Estates? Anyone with one privilege counts. The Estates have many; purge them all—even 20%—and it never ends. One purge breeds the next."
True enough. Third Estate wasn't monolithic. Nearly pulled a Robespierre while cursing him.
"Need to rethink. I thought fixing First and Second would solve everything."
"Even reformed, you won't surpass the late king."
Hah, Terray too. Thinks I'm competing with 17th-century monarchs?
"No, the France I build isn't past glory—it's the future. Make future generations look back and call this the Belle Époque, like we do the late king's era."
I'll carve my own path.
"Can you pull it off?"
"Who knows? But one thing's certain: I'll change history. The Bourbon dynasty ends with no one in my reign."
That was my vow, my goal this life.