“It’s this late? Oh, then let’s do it in the morning.”
…
Two days later.
An emergency Cabinet meeting was convened once again.
Marquis Saint Priest presented a thick stack of plans for reinforcing Tunisia to Queen Mary with great pride.
Seeing the Queen absentmindedly flipping through the military plan, he coughed lightly and started to explain the main content:
“Your Majesty, our plan is to send General Kellermann with 25,000 soldiers to Tunisia, and together with the existing 3,000 soldiers there, deploy our forces to control here, here, and here…”
As he spoke, he pointed to the map of Tunisia on the table, “After that, a mobile force will systematically clear all the major towns…”
Having briefly introduced the battle deployment, Marquis Saint Priest added:
“According to estimates, the initial cost of the entire military operation will be about 10 million livres. Additional funds will be allocated based on how the battle progresses.”
“Furthermore, for the convenience of unified command, it’s necessary to incorporate Bertier’s Corps into General Kellermann’s command.”
“That much money?!” Queen Mary looked at him in shock.
Duke of Orleans interjected at the right moment:
“If the conflict cannot be resolved swiftly, it’s not surprising to end up spending tens of millions of livres. I still believe that abandoning Tunisia is the correct decision.”
“What are you talking about?” the Minister of War was visibly dissatisfied, “We will have victory within a few months!”
“That’s uncertain…”
Joseph suddenly stood up, interrupting them:
“I also disagree with abandoning Tunisia!”
Marquis Saint Priest immediately cast an approving look at him:
“Praise your courage and wisdom, Crown Prince!”
Joseph simply glanced at him indifferently and thought to himself, praise my foot! How dare you covet my Guard Corps? I’ll settle the score with you later!
He continued loudly, “However, I think we don’t need to rush to reinforce. We could first try to persuade the troublesome Tunisians.”
“Persuade?”
Apart from Joan and Mirabeau, who were already informed, everyone else in the hall gave him a strange look.
“Correct.” Joseph nodded seriously, “There are always reasonable people in Tunisia.”
“Moreover, persuading them would only require a few hundred thousand livres.”
Joan and Mirabeau immediately voiced their agreement as Joseph had instructed beforehand.
Brian, who was frightened by the military expenses of 10 million, also immediately expressed support for the method of “persuasion.”
Duke of Orleans, contrary to his usual stance, sided with the Crown Prince—what persuasion? Ridiculous! It was nothing but the fantasy of a politically inexperienced child. But as long as there was no military dispatch, he could account for it to the British Ambassador.
Queen Mary did not expect her son’s proposal to receive so much support, so she nodded:
“Perhaps you could first try persuading them. If that fails, then execute Marquis Saint Priest’s plan.”
Joseph bowed slightly with a smile:
“I certainly won’t disappoint you.”
…
That afternoon, in his study, Joseph explained the deployment in North Africa to Joan: “The Tunisian Guard is the only breakthrough.”
“They have always intermarried within their own ranks, refusing to integrate with the local Tunisians, and have oppressed the locals greatly. This has made them without any ‘friends’ in the area.”
He abruptly changed the topic, “Do you know what politics is?”
“Ah? Politics?”
Joseph directly answered, “Politics is about having more of your people and fewer enemies.”
“The Tunisian Guard has made exactly this mistake. They have made themselves the minority.”
“At the same time, they hold most of Tunisia’s wealth.”
“And they no longer have the overwhelming military advantage they did a century ago.”
“So now, it only requires someone to guide the Tunisians, and the Guard will easily become ‘sacrificial lambs’.”
Joan nodded thoughtfully, “Your Highness, what should we do then?”
“We must start with identity politics and the influence of the Church.”
Joseph relayed his plan in detail but realized Joan was rather bewildered, prompting a silent shake of his head. It seemed rather challenging for this consul to ensure the plan was perfectly executed.
Tunisia was of utmost importance and could not be compromised. Joseph sighed, deciding that it would be safer if he went personally.
Petit Trianon Palace.
Queen Mary’s head shook so vigorously her swan-like updo almost tumbled off:
“My dear, how can you go to North Africa?! It’s too dangerous! I’ve heard there are lions everywhere. No, absolutely not!”
Joseph gestured toward the doorway, “Kesode and the others will ensure my safety.”
“Not just lions, there are venomous snakes, scorpions…”
With no other option, Joseph resorted to the “trump card” he learned from Clementine, stepped forward to take the queen’s arm, and swayed gently and rhythmically, whispering:
“I beg you! I will be careful. Or perhaps, I could take more soldiers with me.”
“And there are cannibals…”
Joseph hugged the queen tightly, burying his head in her bosom, and continued to plead:
“Alright, I’ll stay on the ship the entire time, will that do? If you still disagree, I will never come to you again!”
Queen Mary thought about it, the Mediterranean didn’t have lethal storms, so this could be somewhat acceptable.
She eventually relented, “Take all your entourage, eat on time, and write me at least every three days.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll do as you say.” Joseph kissed Queen Mary’s cheek, “Thank you, dear mother, I love you the most!”
“I love you most too, my darling!” The queen chuckled, lightly flicking her son’s nose, “I’ll discuss with Marquis Saint Priest about which corps to send as your escort.”
“Oh, no need to trouble him. I’ve already arranged with Duchess Vilar; her husband will personally lead 3,000 men from Murat’s Corps to accompany me.”
Queen Mary hastily said, “3,000 men seem a bit few, how about I allocate an additional 500 from the Swiss Guard to you.”
The Swiss Guard is King Louis XVI’s Imperial Guard, the most loyal Swiss mercenaries.
…
Ten or so days later.
In the northern Mediterranean, the vibrant blue waters of the French Riviera.
The majestic fourth-rate ship of the line “Advance” swelled its sails proudly, carving through the water, steering a straight course southward.
Weakly reclined in a cabin, Perna lay on the bed, her limbs limp, her eyes half-closed, nostrils flaring, her forehead drenched in sweat as if she’d been laboring with great exertion.
Joseph placed an ice-cold towel on her forehead and sighed:
“Had you no idea that you get seasick so easily?”
“I… this is my first time on a ship.” the girl’s sprite-like green eyes were filled with remorse as she spoke feebly, “I’m really sorry, Your Highness, I meant to look after you on the trip, but instead, you’ve ended up taking care of me…”
“It’s alright, you don’t have to be so formal.” Joseph waited for her to fall into a deep sleep before returning to the officers’ meeting room on the ship, saying to the few historians poring over documents:
“You have been working hard. Any progress?”
The scholars stood up promptly to salute, with the leader responding:
“Your Highness, the main inhabitants in Tunisia were Arabs and Berbers that came from Egypt. As for their connection to France,
“It seems only Emperor Charles I from the Holy Roman Empire conquered the place some two hundred years ago…”
Experience more on empire
Joseph nodded, “Please, continue.”
This was the task he had assigned to the historians—to prove a common ancestry between Tunisians and the French. Indeed, the best scenario was to make everyone kin if possible.
The scholar wiped sweat from his brow, his voice dropping:
“And France also originated from the Holy Roman Empire in ancient times.”
Of course, this division of Holy Rome into Germany, France, and Italy, and the current Holy Rome, were completely different matters. The current entity could only be considered a forced attachment, neither holy, nor Roman, nor an empire.
The scholar felt as if he were exhausting all his life’s capacity for far-fetched associations:
“So, that is, if we reason it out, both French people and Tunisians could be considered children of Rome.”
“Excellent! Just like that.” Joseph approved, “Please find more historical evidence and give it to the writers to draft into articles.”
The historian’s eyelid twitched, his voice tinged with a sob, “Your Highness, how could there possibly be evidence for this…”
“These kinds of things, well, don’t have to be too rigid.” Joseph winked at him, “Sometimes, you can let the writers help you conceive the evidence.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
By the time the “Advance” sailed into the Gulf of Boni, an “Analysis of the Origins of Tunisia” was already placed upon Joseph’s desk.