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Chapter 1005: Three Parisians

"The balance of power in the German states is on the verge of collapsing," Joseph remarked to Talleyrand. "Therefore, we must prevent Prussia from surrendering too quickly—at the very least, we cannot allow them to capitulate on Austria's terms."

Talleyrand considered this for a moment. "Does Your Highness mean we should provide aid to Prussia?"

"We don't have any surplus funds to squander on the Prussians," Joseph replied, glancing at him with a shake of his head. "Quite the opposite, in fact. We must offer our full support to Austria."

"Pardon?" The Foreign Minister thought he had misheard. "You mean... Austria?"

"Precisely," Joseph said. "You've haggled with merchants before, haven't you?"

"I have, Your Highness."

"If an item costs ten francs and you offer nine, the merchant will likely give it serious thought. But if you insist on paying only one franc, he will surely chase you away or lose his temper."

Talleyrand instinctively rubbed his nose. In truth, he was quite fond of lowballing prices to a tenth of their value.

Once Joseph finished explaining the details of his plan, Talleyrand nodded slowly, though a lingering doubt remained. "Your Highness, if Prussia cannot withstand the pressure and actually agrees to those terms..."

Joseph watched as Eman brought his dinner over. He leaned back and waved a dismissive hand. "William III will never accept such conditions. And even if he were inclined to do so, the British would never allow it."

He knew that while William III was often indecisive, the man possessed a streak of extreme stubbornness during critical moments.

Talleyrand, who placed immense trust in the Crown Prince's judgment, bowed his head. "I shall depart for Vienna as soon as possible, Your Highness."

Eman then placed a second tray of food before Talleyrand. The minister had arrived at the military academy early to report, so he clearly hadn't eaten yet.

"My thanks," Talleyrand said, nodding to Eman.

Joseph continued, "We must also prevent Austria from concentrating its forces to strike further into the Prussian heartland."

After all, Joseph respected Archduke Charles's military prowess. With the Archduke currently commanding an overwhelming numerical advantage, there was a real possibility he could march straight into Berlin.

Talleyrand glanced at the food on the table—radish and salt pork soup, mashed potatoes, bread, and an artichoke and beet salad. Seeing the Crown Prince eating heartily, he didn't dare complain and hurried to take a spoonful of soup.

He picked up the previous thread. "Your Highness, we have two options."

"First, we could provide support to the Hungarians and Romanians in Transylvania. When Archduke Charles moved to handle the situation in Silesia, his suppression of the rebels there was incomplete. Given enough weapons, they could quickly become a thorn in Vienna's side."

"The second option is to involve the Ottomans. Since the defeat in Wallachia, Salem III has faced significant domestic criticism. If he can rebuild his New Order army, he would likely be eager to redeem himself where he previously fell."

Joseph chewed on a piece of stewed radish, contemplating. "Inciting internal revolts is too easily detected by Vienna, and those rebels are mostly a ragtag bunch. They aren't reliable."

"Send someone secretly to Constantinople instead."

"As for helping them train a new army... that's too slow. It won't be ready in time. It would be better to incite their Janissaries to take action."

As dusk faded, Talleyrand and the Crown Prince discussed the situation in the German states while returning to the Palace of Versailles.

The streets of Paris were illuminated as brightly as day by gas streetlights. Joseph's carriage sped past rows of shops that remained open, and one could even see the silhouettes of people drinking merrily inside the taverns.

"It's the Jewel VII, a custom model," a plump young noble gestured toward the window with his wine glass. "Exquisite. It's practically a work of art!"

Joseph usually avoided displaying royal emblems on his carriage to prevent being swamped by officials eager to greet him.

"Thirteen hundred francs," a handsome blonde youth sitting opposite him remarked, taking a sip of his wine. "You could suggest that Baron Rochefort buy one."

The plump youth nodded. "My father might actually agree. Since he doesn't have to buy me a government post anymore, that money might as well be spent on something else."

Indeed, starting this summer, the sale of offices had been abolished in France. Of course, if one performed poorly on the entrance exam for the Royal University of Administration, a substantial tuition fee was still required—but that was only if the student managed at least a C+ grade.

Bright commoners could have their tuition waived based on excellent marks, while the system still offered a degree of consideration for wealthy noble families.

However, the two young men talking had only managed a C- and a D three months ago, meaning they didn't even qualify for that "consideration."

A third youth with small eyes and a bulbous nose sat with his back to the window, gesturing with his glass toward his blonde companion. "Danny, if you find a tutor and study a bit more, you should be able to meet the admission standards next year."

Danny had scored a C- this year, only two grades away from the minimum entry requirement.

Danny Edmond de Chaumont drained his wine and waved his hand dismissively. "No, I've made up my mind. I'm joining the army."

He held his empty glass high as if it were a sharpened saber. "Amidst the roar of cannons and a hail of bullets, I'll break through the Austrian lines and seize their headquarters!"

"Then, like General Masséna, I'll return to Paris in glory."

"I'll have my campaigns engraved upon the Arc de Triomphe."

"That is the true romance of a man!"

The plump youth curled his lip. "Your horsemanship is worse than mine. You'll probably only get into the military technical school."

He was referring to the institution that trained enlisted men over an eight-month course. To command in battle, one had to attend the Army Officer Academy.

Chaumont shouted indignantly, "I've studied history, drafting, and I even speak German! I heard those subjects grant priority for recommendations!"

He clapped the plump youth on the shoulder. "Henry, why don't you come to the academy with me? Your marksmanship is excellent."

Henry François de Rochefort shook his large head. "I'll stick to inheriting the family business. I heard you have to run five kilometers just to graduate from the academy. I'd rather be executed; it would be less painful."

The small-eyed youth spoke up lazily, "Business isn't a bad choice. There's good money to be made in steel, chemicals, medicine, or furniture these days. Or you could run steamships in the Mediterranean. I hear Italian girls quite fancy French men. You could make a fortune and have a few flings along the way."

The plump youth turned to encourage him. "Pierre, you're the smartest among us. Why don't you go into business with me? I can lend you some starting capital."

Pierre had scored an A- on the entrance exam for the University of Public Administration, but his family was not well-off, and he had an older brother who had been ill for years. He couldn't even afford the annual tuition of 220 francs.

Combined with his naturally flighty temperament, he spent his days idling about with his friends.