I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 133: The Prince: "Don't Even Think About Making a Dime Off Me!"

The War Minister squinted after hearing Berthier's words. If the Queen was behind this, then the reports about the French Guards' officers must have been dug up by the royal spies—the secret police. Even the artillery incident with the farmhouse was something they had investigated. It all made sense now. A mother protecting her son was truly like an enraged lioness.

He looked at Berthier and asked, "How do you know all this?"

Berthier instinctively shrank back a bit, responding vaguely, "General, I have my own sources."

"The important thing is, I can assure you this information is reliable, and I have a way to solve your problem."

The Marquis of Saint-Priest eyed him up and down before slowly nodding. "Alright, let's hear it. What's your plan?"

Berthier quickly reviewed the lines he had prepared, feeling like he was about to take an important exam. In truth, he didn't like being pushed into the spotlight, but the Prince had said he was the best man for the job. Wanting to repay the Prince's favor, he had mustered the courage to come here.

"First, you need to calm the public outcry as soon as possible."

Saint-Priest nodded. "And how do you suggest we do that?"

"Publicly announce that the military will severely punish those responsible for the Prince's attack. Then, pick a few minor figures and give them heavy sentences to make it look like justice is being served," Berthier said, nervously fidgeting with his hands. "For those involved in the farmhouse artillery incident, especially the ringleader, Théodore, it would be best to conduct a public trial to demonstrate the fairness of the gendarmerie."

The War Minister waved his hand impatiently, cutting him off. "What you're saying is useful, but if people keep reporting on the officers, this will never end."

Berthier nodded. "Yes, General, and that's where I can help."

"You? How exactly?"

Berthier explained that the root of the problem lay in the Prince's injury. If the Prince were to express forgiveness towards the French Guards who were "not directly involved," and with Bessonval and a few other officers being severely punished, the Queen might be appeased and stop pursuing the matter further.

Saint-Priest frowned. "But the Prince is still injured and likely bears a grudge against the French Guards. How could he possibly speak on their behalf?"

"Actually, I'm close to someone very important in the Prince's circle," Berthier lied, barely able to look the War Minister in the eye. "This person shielded the Prince during the attack and earned his praise. If they help, I'm confident they can persuade the Prince."

Saint-Priest sat up straight, suddenly very interested. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, General."

Saint-Priest studied him for a moment, then nodded. "So, what is it that you want in return?"

Finally, they were getting to the point!

Berthier took a deep breath. "You know, coming from a humble background, I've mostly been stuck in research roles or commanding engineering units. But what I've always wanted was to be a real officer, the kind who leads troops into battle."

"So, I'd like to command a regiment."

Saint-Priest smiled, relieved. "That's not difficult, Major Berthier. I remember signing the order to bring you to Paris, so I'll sign your promotion to Colonel as well. Oh, I suppose I should start calling you Colonel Berthier now."

Berthier quickly added, "General, please let me finish."

"Oh? Do you have another request?"

"Well, I'd like it to be a regiment of elite troops."

"Fine." Compared to the massive problem at hand, granting command of an elite regiment was no big deal to Saint-Priest.

"I was thinking of a unit like the French Guards," Berthier said, rubbing his hands nervously. "And I'd prefer to be able to select my own men."

Saint-Priest frowned slightly. This junior officer was certainly ambitious. But then he considered that the French Guards' reputation was already in tatters, and their garrison had been moved to Moret-sur-Loing, likely turning them into a second-rate unit soon.

He nodded again. "I can agree to that."

Once all the details were ironed out, Berthier stood to leave. The Marquis of Saint-Priest escorted him to the door, then suddenly asked, "Colonel, can you tell me who's really behind you?"

Judging from Berthier's demeanor and the influence he seemed to wield, Saint-Priest suspected that Berthier was merely a front for someone much more powerful.

"General, please just wait for the good news," Berthier replied with a bow before quickly getting into his carriage.

Watching the carriage disappear into the distance, the War Minister muttered to himself, "Could it be General Custine? No, he doesn't have that much influence in Paris."

"Perhaps Baron Breteuil? Berthier was recommended by him."

"Or maybe… the Queen herself…"

He chuckled and shook his head. If the Queen were capable of such scheming, France wouldn't be in its current state.

...

Joseph leaned back in his bed, listening to Berthier's report, and suddenly frowned. "He agreed that quickly?"

"Yes, Your Highness. He barely hesitated."

Joseph slapped his thigh, looking regretful. "That means the price was too low! I'm afraid you'll have to go back tomorrow and raise it…"

After instructing Berthier to "increase the price," Joseph added, "I'll have Major Dubois bring some people from the police academy to help you select your men.

"Reject any officers from noble families or those who bought their commissions. Anyone with a history of misconduct or crime is also out.

"Make sure to take all the horses and weapons you can, along with as much clothing, tents, and other supplies as possible. Don't be shy about it."

Berthier stared at the Prince, realizing he had a real knack for being a bandit...

That night, Joseph gazed at the stars outside his window, mentally reviewing all the people he needed to deal with.

He needed to find a new "target" for Marat; otherwise, Marat would keep tearing into the French Guards' officers until they were completely ruined.

Joseph wasn't ready to fully break with the military nobility just yet. His goal had always been to gain control of the elite forces within the French Guards and to bring down Bessonval and other supporters of the Orléans faction.

Now that those goals were almost achieved, it was time to ease off. With the royalist Flanders Regiment now stationed in Paris and Bessonval exiled to Seychelles, the chance of the military standing idly by during future riots, as they had in history, was greatly reduced.

"The Duke of Orléans?"

Joseph shook his head. The Duke's power base was too strong, and even if he had dirt on him, it wouldn't be easy to bring him down.

"The nobles in the Assembly who still want to dilute the king's power?"

There were too many of them, and they were too scattered. Given that Marat's people were currently understaffed, the effort wouldn't be very effective.

(End of Chapter)

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