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Chapter 101: Unexpected Harvest

The black-clad person turned his head upon hearing the words. When he got a clear look at the youth's face, he couldn't help but exclaim: "Crown Prince?"

Joseph was also somewhat surprised: "Actually a lady? Do you know me?"

Eman grabbed the black-clad person's rapier from their waist——although it was hardly usable inside the carriage, for the crown prince's safety it was better to take it away——then he pointed at her mask and gestured to Joseph, asking whether they should lift it.

Joseph shook his head slightly and asked the black-clad person: "Who are you? Why is the Duke of Orléans chasing you?"

"I... you can call me Tulip." The black-clad woman muttered, then added, "I just went to the Palais-Royal to pick up something, and those guards went crazy chasing me."

Joseph frowned: "So you're a thief?"

"Strictly speaking, yes." The black-clad woman said, suddenly inhaling, then pressing hard on her shoulder, her voice trembling, "But everything I did was for equality and justice."

Joseph then noticed blood seeping from between her fingers: "Are you hurt?"

"Just a little wound, it's fine." The black-clad woman shook her head, "Now you can hand me over to that Philippe fellow. He should be grateful to you."

Joseph shook his head: "First, tell me your real name. Second, what did you steal?"

"Why should I tell you?"

Joseph didn't waste time with her, gesturing to Eman: "Eman, please search and see what she stole."

"Yes, Your Highness. Sorry, miss..."

"Don't touch me!" The black-clad woman quickly stepped back, gritting her teeth, "Alright, I'll talk. I took a few IOUs and contracts from the Palais-Royal documents room."

"IOUs? Contracts?"

"Yes, it's Monsieur Lenoir and his several partners." She said, taking another breath—clearly her wound hurt—but continued, "These past few years the harvest hasn't been good, their wine cellar business has been struggling, so they borrowed a few sums from Philippe... now they can't repay temporarily, and Philippe intends to seize their wine cellar, house, and land!"

"Monsieur Lenoir's son is seriously ill; if the Lenoir family loses everything now, he will surely die! Oh, and those who work in the wine cellar will also lose their jobs and have no money to buy bread."

Joseph rubbed his nose; although he felt that repaying debts was natural and just, hearing her say it made it seem as if Lenoir had suffered a great injustice and persecution.

However, since it would cause trouble for the Duke of Orléans, he had no objection.

"Well then, so you sneaked into the Duke of Orléans' documents room and only took a few IOUs? Didn't you happen to grab any evidence of his foreign dealings, corruption, or illegal activities?" Joseph sighed regretfully, and the nickname Tulip made him seem like a chuunibyou teenager.

"None..."

"Tell me who you are, and I might consider letting you go."

The black-clad woman blinked: "Really?"

"Really."

The black-clad woman recalled seeing the crown prince help stray siblings outside the Paris Angel shop earlier, and she squeezed out a smile: "Indeed, your heart is still... cough—well, I am Sorel. Anna Sorel."

Eman quickly searched his memory and told the crown prince: "Your Highness, she is the sister of Viscount Freize."

Joseph found it somewhat amusing—a noble from the Palace of Versailles, claiming to "uphold justice," sneaking out at night in dark clothes to steal from the Palais-Royal...

He heard the shouts of guards approaching from afar, made a glance at Eman, who promptly opened the door and stepped out.

The carriage had barely moved a few steps when it was blocked front and rear by two squads of fully armed guards.

Eman immediately stepped forward and shouted loudly: "What do you want? This is the crown prince's carriage!"

The captain of the Palais-Royal guards recognized him and hastily bowed: "Count Eman, we are apprehending a thief..."

"I didn't see any thief. All right, step aside." Eman waved his hand, "Don't delay the crown prince’s schedule."

The guards, seeing Clauzel also leading the crown prince's personal guard approach, dared say no more and signaled their subordinates to clear a path for the carriage.

Several carriages then sped past, and after going a considerable distance and turning into a narrow alley, Joseph finally ordered a stop.

He gestured toward the carriage door and asked Sorel: "Are you sure your wound is alright?"

"Thank you for your concern, it’s fine."

Sorel extended her long legs to step down, but suddenly remembered something and turned back, saying: "Your Highness, as repayment for helping me out of trouble, I can tell you a few things."

"Today I overheard a conversation between Philippe and the British ambassador to France at the Palais-Royal, and it seemed to involve you."

"Oh?" Joseph’s eyes lit up; he hadn’t expected an extra gain.

"Philippe said he hoped the British would let Necker serve as a financial advisor, participating in whatever negotiations you proposed. He also said it would be best to sidestep Archbishop Brienne, letting Vergennes and Necker take the lead. However, the British apparently did not agree."

"Oh, Philippe also mentioned that the several banks of his that had invested 15 million livres in British ventures have already been finalized, and now several other banks wish to invest another 10 million livres in British automated looms."

Having said that, she turned and stepped down from the carriage, covering her wound as she bowed to Joseph: "Once again, my sincere thanks, Your Highness. Also, please keep this confidential."

Eman handed her rapier over. The girl took it, placed it at her side, nodded in thanks, then twisted her supple waist and vanished into the night like a black cat.

Joseph chuckled; he hadn’t expected that in this era there truly existed someone self-important enough to style themselves a knight‑errant, upholding justice single‑handedly—and moreover, a young woman.

As the carriage started moving, Joseph recalled Sorel’s words, and a chill flickered in his eyes. Those banks, taking France’s funds, are rushing to help Britain advance the Industrial Revolution!

A full 25 million livres—more than half of it likely profit from the interest on France’s government debt. Evidently, the financial sector also needs a thorough overhaul.

Not long after, the convoy arrived at the Paris office of the Industrial Planning Bureau.

Joseph hurried into the small building and saw that things were still a bit disordered, given that the move had only begun yesterday.

He reached the director’s office at the far end and immediately saw a neat stack of documents on the desk—materials he had his assistant organize on France’s industrial situation, which he hadn’t expected to arrive so quickly.

He suddenly smiled and shook his head; despite being France’s industrial chief, all along he had been puzzling over how to handle grain.

Joseph sat down in his chair and began to flip through the files. Eman hurried over with a candlestick holding five candles to increase the light, and quietly instructed a maid to brew a cup of tea.

After glancing at roughly ten pages, Joseph’s brow was already furrowed.

Over the past year, in Lyon alone, France had accumulated textile products worth over one million livres, while nearly a hundred textile workshops shut down, leaving more than three thousand workers unemployed...