Chapter 66 - Chapter 66: Chapter 66 The Story of the British Ambassador

Chapter 66: Chapter 66 The Story of the British Ambassador

A black carriage made its way to the front of the Royal Palace.

The guard immediately approached to stop it, “This is the Royal Palace. Please state your name.”

The coachman took out a small copper tag and flashed it. The guard promptly opened the gate and bowed his head, saying no more.

The carriage went directly to the east side of the Royal Palace and stopped. A person dressed in a black robe, with the brim of the hat pulled down very low, quickly walked up the steps and entered through the door with great familiarity.

The Duke of Orleans was seated at a desk, pondering a matter in his head, just about to put pen to paper to write a letter, when he heard the voice of the butler from outside the door, “My lord, Mr. Hartley, the British Ambassador, has arrived.”

“Let him in.”

After a moment, the door was pushed open, and Hartley, dressed in black, gestured with a hand over his chest toward the Duke of Orleans, saying with a smile all over his face, “Oh, Philippe, my old friend! It has been some time since we last met.”

The Duke of Orleans nodded with a smile, “Dear David! What brings you to me today?”

After exchanging pleasantries, Hartley got to the point, “Philippe, as you know, London is always giving me trouble. And here in Paris, I can only rely on you, old friend.”

“Speak openly if you need something.”

“Well, I’d like to publish something in the newspapers.”

“Then you’ve come to the right person,” said the Duke of Orleans with a laugh, “Tell me, is it an advertisement, or some kind of notice?”

“Uh, to be precise,” Hartley spread his hands, “it’s about publishing some stories.”

“Stories?”

“Some tales about the Prussians,” said Hartley. “For example, a story of Duke Schwarz of Prussia competing with Earl Filson for Queen Mary.”

“Duke Schwarz? I didn’t know there was a…”

Mid-sentence, the Duke of Orleans suddenly broke into an understanding smile, “Oh, I see, never mind if there’s a Duke Schwarz or not, the crux is the story with the Austrian lady.”

Hartley nodded, “You are indeed a clever man. There’s also a story about Baron Ramos of Silesia having a secret rendezvous with Princess Therese.”

Silesia had by then been incorporated into Prussia. Princess Therese was the eldest daughter of Louis XVI, Joseph’s sister. And, of course, everything Hartley said was sheer fabrication.

The Duke of Orleans casually added, “Baron Ramos’s female slave was taken fancy to by the Crown Prince during his secret meeting, and it’s said she is now with child.”

Hartley’s eyes brightened, “If you were a screenwriter, you would be famous all over Europe. Let’s do it this way, please get these published as soon as possible.”

All these matters touched upon the honor of the Royal Family, and without the Duke of Orleans’ connections, they simply would not appear in the newspapers.

The Duke of Orleans smiled slightly, “This won’t be an easy thing to do.”

“That’s why I came to trouble you, aren’t all the newspapers in Paris under your control?”

The Duke of Orleans noncommittally said, “The money I invested last time in the British automated loom industry, a sizable part of it is still under review.”

Hartley nodded, “I can help hurry that along for you. You know how inefficient those government officials can be.”

The Duke of Orleans finally showed a look of satisfaction, “Then I’m counting on you. As for those stories of yours, they should soon become common knowledge.”

Not long after, Hartley left.

The Duke of Orleans immediately wrote letters to several major newspapers under his control, mainly to arrange how to deal with the tax legislation issue, and in the end, he mentioned the story of the British Ambassador as well.

…

At three o’clock in the afternoon, Joseph’s carriage left the Paris Police Academy and hurried back to the Palace of Versailles.

He now had to study at the Police Academy two to three times a week, mainly taking classes on tactical command, military cartography, and logistics.

He was well aware that with the deepening of the Industrial Revolution, the European continent would begin to destabilize, with the redistribution of interests between old and new powers, leading to endless wars.

Only by mastering sufficient military knowledge could he ensure the security and stability of France.

At this time, France did not yet possess the attribute of capitulating at the speed of light, it was even quite martial; a king who could lead France to victory would be adored by all French people, wielding supreme authority.

Even if he did not personally go into battle to fight, at the very least he needed to know which battles could be fought and which could not.

Therefore, he had to study the basic military courses, and at the same time, he could give feedback to the military instructors at the Police Academy.

Topics like infantry-artillery cooperation, cavalry-artillery cover, concentrated use of artillery, and even military theories such as grand envelopment that had not yet emerged. Although he could not teach them thoroughly, they were like opening the doors to a new world for the instructors.

With a concept and general direction in place, they could continue to refine and perfect it, and then incorporate it into the military training curriculum.

A few days ago, Dibowa had already arrived at the Police Academy to take charge of the “Strategic and Tactical Research Office”. He was very surprised why a school that trained police would study strategy and tactics, but he gladly accepted the position nonetheless.

After he saw Joseph’s advanced military theories, he completely understood the necessity of this research office—the level of military theory at this Police Academy was absolutely much higher than that of the Paris Military Academy! He felt fortunate in his heart to be valued by the Crown Prince and to be stationed at this military school, oh no, it should be Police Academy.

A “Police Academy” equipped with a large number of military horses, as well as three four-pound cannons and one eight-pound cannon…

Joseph sat in the jolting carriage, silently repeating to himself about the spring suspension he had not had the time to deal with yet, and casually picked up the newspaper on the small table in front of him to browse through.

Recently, the propaganda about the tax reform bill had been very effective. In just a few days, he had heard people discussing the new tax clauses on the streets of Paris.

If this trend continued, it wouldn’t be long before the grand nobles of the Assembly of Notables found it difficult to stir up public opinion to oppose the Royal Family.

However, when he saw the front page of the Voice of the City newspaper, he couldn’t help but frown—the top story for that day was about the murder of a noblewoman.

He then snatched up the Paris News, and to his surprise, the front-page headline was, “New Tax Legislation, Brian’s Attempt to Arbitrarily Impose Taxes?”

Joseph’s face darkened as he read on; the article was full of sophistry, twisting concepts, portraying the tax legislation as arbitrary impositions by the Royal Family due to excessive extravagance, likely to have a very negative impact.

He slammed the newspaper on the table angrily, How could such a thing pass the news review?! What were those reviewers doing…

He then realized that the news review was a subordinate department of the High Court, and since the High Court was opposing the tax reform bill, they naturally turned a blind eye to such messy articles.

Joseph looked at the France Messenger newspaper, and not unexpectedly, its front page headline was, “The High Court Refuses Registration! This May Be the Victory of Freedom!”