Achievement Unlocked! National Intelligence Agency
Achievement unlocked! As soon as National Intelligence Agency agent Termidor stepped into the office, he bowed his head and apologized to me.
"I'm sorry. We failed to monitor the subversive elements in advance."
"Raise your head. It's not your fault."
"Thank you."
"It's my fault."
At my words, he wore a troubled expression. Anyone hearing it would think it was sarcasm, but it really was my fault.
"I'm not trying to reprimand you. It was truly my intention, so don't worry."
I hadn't expected him to speak up at the cabinet meeting against my expectations, but the intent had worked. I just hadn't anticipated their guts spilling out quite that far.
"How's I-Myeonghun these days?"
"He hasn't been coming to work much lately. He's been visiting markets frequently under the pretext of checking on the people's livelihood. Our National Intelligence Agency investigation confirms he's met with Bastille escapees."
"Bastille escapees?"
Already in contact with those guys? Fast.
"Only five are executed each week, but tens of thousands of remnants from the old conservative forces have been sent to the Bastille. The temporary detention camps on the outskirts of Paris are overflowing. Since they're not official prisons, escapees keep appearing every night."
"I think I saw that in last year's documents. I heard the National Intelligence Agency had them in custody?"
"Paris's population is simply too large, so those who blended into the crowds are hard to catch. We've nabbed the ones who couldn't shed their noble airs... but around eighty are still on the run."
"Perfect."
Including those tangled up with the old first and second estates, roughly a thousand maybe. Just the right number.
"Keep them under surveillance, and lock up any that surface. And what the hell is former Marquis François doing?"
"Marquis François is under investigation for funding subversive elements. This incident has secured the circumstantial evidence."
"If possible, recruit him as a double agent. If he refuses, assassinate him with laxatives and vinegar."
"I shall obey."
An assassination order... no need to feel fresh guilt. I'll have to kill at least half a million Frenchmen going forward. The French nobles and clergy dead so far already number over ten thousand.
"I hope he becomes our spy."
That way, at least one less dies.
"Let's begin the afternoon cabinet meeting. Right after today's meeting ends, propose the 'large-scale nitre mining venture in the Atacama Desert' to the Spanish ambassador. If Spain shows interest, proceed to detailed negotiations. Accommodate Spain's wishes as much as possible, but we retain the initiative. The Ministry of Public Works will dispatch an exploration team the moment permits are granted to pinpoint the nitre deposits and draft mining plans. The Navy Ministry will designate Santo Domingo as the logistics hub from the Spanish and French mainlands via to Nueva Granada. Any questions?"
There wouldn't be. Even if there were, they'd stay silent.
"Then, on to the next item. Prosecutor General. Speak."
April 2, 1780 – Madrid Royal Palace, Cabinet Room
"France has made quite a bold proposal, I hear."
Carlos III broached the subject.
"Yes. They claim there's a massive nitre field in the Atacama Desert in the Viceroyalty of Chile and proposed a mining venture."
"What's the Foreign Ministry's judgment?"
At Carlos III's words, Minister José Moñino pulled out several documents.
"First, the Foreign Ministry's assessment. They analyzed there's no reason to reject it. Britain is limping along its economy with francs from Mediterranean piracy, but it's not enough to threaten us. Austria and Prussia would just pray for France's failure. They figure France is the only power in Europe that can actively pursue something like this now."
"The Foreign Ministry has its reasons. What about the Council of the Indies?"
"Given the situation, the Council approved it provisionally. Internal analysis notes it might not pencil out, relying on labor-intensive sota-parada methods."
"I see. We'll need to factor in transport costs from the Viceroyalty of Chile to Nueva Granada, then to the mainland. No issue there—we need training grounds for new recruits anyway. Finally, what do you ministers think?"
"We defer to Your Majesty's decision. But since the Viceroyalty of Chile is our territory, securing shares proportional to our land is crucial."
"Hmm. I understand your views."
Carlos III's deliberation was brief.
"France handles the exploration, so have them locate the deposits first. If they actually find nitre, then we proceed."
"Yes. I'll relay to the ambassador in Madrid."
April 26, 1780 – Versailles Palace, Cabinet Room
Spain's reply had arrived. Plenty of flowery rhetoric, but the conclusion was clear:
"As expected. Atlantic Admiral. Dispatch the exploration team."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
A reply in two months would do. In northern Chile—Antofagasta and Tarapacá—nitre practically bubbles up when you dig. Adults used to say as a kid, "Dig the ground, what do you get? Ten won?" No ten won, but nitre? Yes.
"How's the food situation?"
"Production is surging beyond capacity. Wheat sown late last autumn—not even full four-field rotation—saw yields up thirty percent from last year. Intercropped beans yielded half the wheat harvest. Per the Treasury's royal-standard sacks, this spring's haul is four hundred million sacks of wheat, one hundred eighty million of beans. Adjusted for local circulation, about sixty million sacks will hit markets."
Royal sacks are tax-sized, small at twenty kilos—low error, volume-based, possibly underestimated. Market grain uses 130-kilo sacks; big ones hit 189. Why 189? God knows. Probably some arbitrary "one month's food for a family of four."
"Your Majesty, this is nothing short of a disaster. Southern harvests kick in, bread prices are plummeting with no bottom in sight. Treasury predicts wheat bottoms out mid-June. Flour's already undercut last year's low before hitting bottom. Spring beans alone cover a year's food for every Frenchman—then summer potatoes, autumn buckwheat and turnips hit, and prices will crash. One good year farms enough to feed us four."
"Isn't surging production a good thing? And didn't we discuss this in the March cabinet? I said we'd hit twelve hundred percent self-sufficiency."
"Your Majesty, flooding the market with this volume will ruin the self-farming class just starting to build wealth. To cut labor costs, they'll fire workers; worst case, sell land and flood the cities. They'll become the one percent of investors and ninety-nine percent urban poor. We're already force-absorbing urban poor into public works like roads—if this continues, by the 1785 currency issuance cuts, half of Paris turns slum."
"I know it all. I know exactly what worries you. But no need for concern. That happens if everyone has a bumper crop. Europe isn't just France, is it?"
An obvious fact, freshly stated. There's Britain, Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, Italy's petty states.
"Set a grain price floor. Local offices buy first. Excess, sell abroad."
"Your Majesty, other countries lack the currency to buy our grain."
"Then take barter. Load the grain wagons with iron and porcelain on the way back."
The bureaucrats looked like they had plenty to say but held their tongues. Fair enough—eighteenth-century Europe had sky-high grain tariffs under mercantilism. But that was original history. Today's Europe couldn't refuse grain. They were short.
France overcame its crisis overnight, sucking in Europe's wealth and manpower. Everyone else aped us: Spain with reforestation and sawmills, Prussia mines, Austria dairy, Britain steel. Shoving folks into labor-intensive industries fitting their lands. But they weren't France. No right to print francs meant no cash for daily wages.
Russia's diplomacy in ruins, nobles counterfeiting francs on the sly—but not openly, so supply lagged. Advanced Sweden avoided fakes outright; getting caught would shatter their franc-dependent economy just clawing back.
Counterfeiting francs shakes trust, sure. But the backlash craters domestic economies. France coughs, Sweden gets pneumonia.
Franks weren't backed one-to-one anyway. Near-paper backed by France's massive state. Counterfeiting? Like stabbing your own throat to sever France's arm.
Gold and silver era? Done. Too pricey for Europe now.
If every nation assumed mutual collapse for twenty years, ditched francs for local coin, maybe revive bullion. But none could. No guarantee others would follow.
They waited for ant-kidney drips of incoming francs. Too little for public works pay.
Europe regressed to barter. Tax collectors took kind over coin; royals rationed food for urban labor. Quasi-rationing system.
Running that needs high self-sufficiency—at least enough harvested tax-grain to feed everyone.
Like my old commie roast at the Three Ministries Council: needing 912.5 million loaves. Make-work scheme.
Fundamentally broken.
But they couldn't scrap it. People already funneled into public works.
High unemployment, even higher absorbed poor. Rural barter self-sustains village-scale; cities? Famine without public jobs.
Could current Europe hold out sans imports?
Cobweb effect: bad policies bleed cash to start, more to kill.
France was ready to feast on that cash.
Twelve hundred percent self-sufficiency? Not for some achievement gimmick.