Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

The Minister of War narrowed his eyes upon hearing this. If it was the queen operating from behind the scenes, then the data on the reporting of the French Guards officers must have been procured by the royal claws—the Secret Police.

That includes the case of the shelling of the farmhouse; it was also uncovered by them.

This would indeed explain everything. A woman who wants to protect her son truly has no difference from an enraged lioness.

He looked at Bertier, "How did you come to know all this?"

The other could not help but shrink back a bit, vaguely stating, "General, I naturally have unique sources of information."

"What is important is that I can guarantee these messages are reliable, and moreover, I have a way to solve your troubles."

Marquis Saint Priest gave him another top to bottom look and then nodded slowly, "All right, let's hear it then, what is your solution?"

Bertier quickly recalled his prepared statement, feeling as if he were facing an exam. To be honest, he did not enjoy being pushed to the forefront, but the Crown Prince had said, this time only he was the most suitable candidate. For the sake of repaying His Highness, he had summoned the courage to come here.

"First, you must quell public opinion as quickly as possible."

Saint Priest nodded, "How precisely do we do that?"

"Announce publicly that the military will severely punish those responsible for the attack on the Crown Prince.

Then round up a few small fries, mete out heavy sentences, and make a show of it," Bertier interlocked his fingers nervously as he continued, "As for those involved in the shelling of the farmhouse, especially the leader Theodore, it would be best to conduct a public trial to establish the image of fairness of the Gendarmerie."

The Minister of War waved his hand in irritation, interrupting him, "What you're suggesting is useful, but if people continue to report officers, the situation will never come to an end."

Bertier nodded, "Indeed, General, and this is where I can be of use."

"You? What can you do?"

The root of all the problems was the attack on the Crown Prince and his subsequent injury. However, if His Highness could express forgiveness in front of the queen for those members of the French Guards "not involved" in the incident, and with Besanval and a few officers already severely punished, Her Majesty the Queen is likely to no longer pursue the matter.

Saint Priest frowned and said, "The Crown Prince's injuries have not yet healed, and he surely harbors resentment towards the French Guards. How could he possibly speak in their favor?"

"Actually, I'm close friends with an important individual in the Crown Prince's entourage," Bertier could not even keep eye contact with the Minister of War as he lied, "and he risked his life during the attack to protect His Highness, earning the Crown Prince's praise. If he assists, there is a high likelihood of convincing the Crown Prince."

Saint Priest sat up sharply upon hearing this, "Is this true?"

"Yes, General."

Saint Priest stared at him for a moment, then nodded, "Then, may I ask, what do you want in return?"

Finally, the crux of the matter!

Bertier took a secret breath and said, "As you know, I come from humble beginnings, so I could only engage in research or at most command a sapper battalion.

"But what I've always wanted to be is a true officer, the kind that can lead troops into battle on the field.

"So, I want a regiment."

Saint Priest immediately showed a relaxed smile, "That's not difficult, Major Bertier. I remember it was I who signed off on your transfer to Paris, so now let me sign your promotion to regimental commander. Oh, from now on I should call you Colonel Bertier."

Bertier promptly continued, "General, please wait for me to finish."

"Oh? Do you have more requests?"

"Well, I want an elite regiment."

"Granted." Compared to the major trouble at hand, a regimental commander of an elite regiment was of no concern to Saint Priest.

"An elite corps like the French Guards," Bertier said, rubbing his hands, "and, preferably, let me choose my own troops."

Saint Priest slightly frowned; this young military officer was indeed unapologetic.

However, he immediately thought that the reputation of the French Guard had been completely ruined, and even their station had been kicked to Moretrowan Town; it was expected to soon become a second-rate unit.

Let him pick as he pleases, then.

So he nodded again, "I can agree to your terms."

After all the details were finalized, Major Bertier stood up to take his leave.

Marquis Saint Priest accompanied him to the door and suddenly asked, "Lieutenant Colonel, could you tell me who is actually behind you?"

From Major Bertier's manner just now, as well as the authority he ought to possess, it was very likely that he was but a spokesperson for some significant figure.

"General, please await my good news," Major Bertier bowed respectfully, then immediately climbed into his carriage.

The Minister of War watched the departing carriage and muttered to himself, "General Custine? No, he shouldn't wield such influence in Paris.

"Baron Breti? It was he who recommended Bertier.

"Or could it be the Queen herself..."

He laughed and shook his head. If the Queen could plan to such an extent, France would not be in its current state.

...

Joseph leaned on the hospital bed, listening to Major Bertier finish his report, then suddenly furrowed his brow, "He agreed that quickly?"

"Yes, Your Highness, he agreed to everything almost without hesitation."

Joseph slapped his thigh, an expression of regret on his face, "This means we've priced it too low! You'll have to make another trip tomorrow..."

After instructing the matter of "hiking up the price," he also reminded Major Bertier, "I will have Major Dibowa from the Gendarmerie bring men to help you choose the soldiers.

"Do not take anyone of high noble birth or those who bought their commissions with money.

"Nor take anyone with a history of military indiscipline or criminal records.

"Remember to take all the military horses and weapons along. And for supplies like clothing and tents, take as much as you can carry; do not be polite."

Major Bertier's eyes widened as he looked at the Crown Prince, thinking he had quite the talent for being a bandit...

At nightfall, Joseph gazed at the stars outside the window, carefully reviewing in his mind all the people he needed to deal with.

He needed to find a new "prey" for Mala, or the latter would surely keep a vice-like focus on the officers of the French Guard, until they were completely torn apart.

Joseph had no need to completely break with the Military Nobility just yet. His goal had always been to obtain the elites of the French Guard and, in addition, to take down the likes of the Orleans faction such as Besanval.

Now that he had largely achieved his goals, it was time to pull back. With the Flander Regiment, loyal to the Royal Family, stationed in Paris, and with the turncoat like Besanval exiled to the Seychelles, at least the historical situation of the defending troops turning a blind eye to the Paris riots would not happen again.

"Duke of Orleans?"

Joseph shook his head; that man had too strong a foundation, and even if he caught him red-handed, it would be difficult to proceed.

"The nobles in the Assembly of Notables who still wish for power sharing?"

There were too many targets, and they were too dispersed, and with Mala and the others currently short-staffed, it would not be very effective. Enjoy exclusive chapters from m-v l'e|m,p| y- r