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Chapter 121: Loyalty to His Majesty the King is a Must!

After processing the grape pulp, Joseph put the brewing water into another large wooden barrel, also keeping it at 60 degrees Celsius.

Half an hour later, Joseph took out the grape pulp that had undergone its "hot bath," covered it, and began soaking the next barrel of pulp...

In this manner, he and Eman worked tirelessly for three or four hours, finally processing all the brewing ingredients.

Joseph wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and instructed Eman to invite the vineyard owners who had been waiting eagerly outside.

More than thirty nobles streamed into the brewing room, but upon seeing the scene, they immediately looked at each other in dismay—the water was still water, and the grape pulp was still grape pulp.

The elderly vineyard owner looked at Joseph and cautiously said, "Your Royal Highness, it seems you haven't even started brewing yet..."

Joseph nodded. "Then quickly, let your brewing technicians begin."

The old noble's face filled with surprise. "You mean, you want my people to brew?"

"Precisely."

Joseph saw their expressions and chuckled. He pointed to the wooden barrels in the room. "All the crucial steps have already been completed where you couldn't see them. Brewing is merely a simple finishing touch; anyone can do it."

"Ah... understood, Your Royal Highness," the elderly noble said, calling his own brewers with waning interest and instructing them to begin the winemaking process.

Joseph observed the brewers getting to work, merely advising them to minimize contact with the ingredients and use high-temperature treated vessels, then gracefully departed.

The assembled nobles escorted the Crown Prince to the road outside the Arsen Wine Cellar. Only after the carriage door closed did they relax their bowing postures and begin to discuss:

"Viscount Jules, do you think the techniques His Royal Highness mentioned are real?"

"Logically, His Royal Highness wouldn't travel all the way to Bordeaux just to play a prank on us, would he?"

"I hope it's true; my cellar hasn't made a profit in years..."

"Alas, mine neither..."

"There's no use guessing here. We'll know in a few days when we see the brewing results."

Inside the carriage, Joseph leaned back against the soft seat, enjoying a rare moment of leisure. Now, all he had to do was wait for the wine to ferment and then "reel in the net." Until then, there was nothing more he could do.

Come to think of it, this was his first vacation since becoming Crown Prince.

'Where should I go to relax?' he pondered, then turned to Eman. "Count Eman, Bordeaux should have some decent beaches, shouldn't it?"

Eman thought for a moment, then nodded. "Your Royal Highness, if you wish to enjoy the coastal scenery, I recommend Arcachon. It's only half a day's journey southwest from here."

"Excellent, let's go there!"

Joseph suddenly remembered the doctor lady staying alone at the Monslow Governor's Villa and quickly instructed, "Let's head back first and bring Doctor Perna along."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness."

Before long, Perna, dressed in a white men's long coat, with her hair tied up and wearing a tricorn hat, boarded the carriage. Upon hearing they were going to Arcachon, she grew excited, crossed her arms over her chest, and cheered, "Oysters! Good heavens, I absolutely adore oysters! Thank you, Your Royal Highness, thank you so much!"

Joseph paused. "Oysters?"

Eman quickly leaned in to explain in a low voice, "Your Royal Highness, Arcachon has been a renowned oyster-producing region since Roman times."

Perna eagerly added, "The best oysters in all of France!" Her eyes gleamed with a devout fervor, like a pilgrim on a sacred journey.

Joseph chuckled. 'I never expected our Doctor Perna to be such a gourmand.'

The carriage set off, and after another half-day of bumpy travel, they finally arrived in the town of Arcachon.

Joseph stood by the sea, feeling the cool sea breeze on his face. This was a temperate oceanic climate; even in winter, the sea wind wasn't too cold. Gazing at the distant, painterly sand dunes and the golden beach stretching to the horizon on the other side, he felt a resonance with nature, filled with peace and serenity.

Perna inhaled the faint salty scent of the sea breeze and smiled at Joseph. "Your Royal Highness, the climate here is very beneficial for your pneumonia. Perhaps you should stay here for a while longer."

Joseph sighed softly. "Indeed, if I could, I would truly wish to live here and never leave."

Perna chuckled in response. "However, moving the Palace of Versailles to Bordeaux would be no easy feat."

After a few more casual remarks, the doctor lady began to peer around curiously.

Eman smiled and leaned towards her, whispering, "I've already contacted the best oyster merchant; they'll be here soon."

Perna's cheeks flushed slightly, her thoughts having been exposed.

Soon, on the flat beach, guards cordoned off an area with draperies. A middle-aged man in a black coat, with rough, hardened skin, directed several servants to unload wooden barrels from a carriage.

Eman, meanwhile, instructed servants to bring a few exquisite small wooden tables, cover them with cloths, and set out tableware, pastries, and wine. He then turned to signal the oyster merchant guarding the barrels. "Please begin."

The middle-aged man immediately reached into a wooden barrel with his calloused hand and pulled out an oyster larger than his palm. He took out a small knife, skillfully pried and sliced, extracting the creamy white oyster meat from its hard shell and placing it on a plate before Joseph. He then cut open a lemon, squeezed its juice onto the oyster, and eagerly gestured for the latter to taste it.

'Raw?' Joseph felt a bit awkward. 'Brother, these freshly caught oysters are certainly fresh, but what if I get sick? Aren't mudworms a concern? And what about viruses...?'

Seeing Perna at the adjacent table, her eyes sparkling as she reached for a fork, he quickly stopped her, cleared his throat, and said, "Ahem, you're in for a treat today. I know a healthier, more delicious way to cook oysters. Would you like to try it?"

"Oh?"

Joseph mused for a moment, then asked the oyster merchant to find a grill, garlic, and some spices, providing detailed instructions...

Half an hour later, on the iron grill, the oyster shells filled with minced garlic and various spices held golden-hued oyster meat, sizzling with bubbling oil. A rich, savory aroma mingled with the scent of garlic, spreading for over a quarter-mile.

Joseph used a fork to pick up a walnut-sized piece of oyster meat, coated in garlic, and placed it in his mouth. His eyes instantly narrowed. 'Truly worthy of being France's finest oyster-producing region! The meat is plump, tender, juicy, and carries a subtle sweetness! Combined with the spices and garlic, and roasted over the fire, it's as if the ocean's saltiness and the fire's warmth melt into one in my mouth, as sweet as kissing a beautiful, charming maiden!'

'Ah—that's the taste!'

Perna, beside him, had forgotten everything else, completely disregarding ladylike decorum. She frantically shoved garlic-roasted oysters into her mouth, tears streaming down her face from the heat, yet she refused to stop.

And so, Joseph spent the first day of his holiday accompanied by sunshine, sand, and grilled oysters.

Little did he know that soon after, a dish called "Crown Prince Oysters" would become widely popular throughout Bordeaux...

Leisurely holidays always pass quickly. After eight days of enjoying various places around Bordeaux, Joseph returned to the Arsen Wine Cellar.

The wine had already been brewed.

In the warm brewing room, dozens of vineyard owners stared at the dozen or so oak barrels, nervously awaiting the results.

Joseph smiled and gestured to the elderly noble beside him. "Baron de Polutarc, would you kindly inspect the brewing process for everyone?"

"As you command, Your Royal Highness." Baron de Polutarc, somewhat nervously, used a corkscrew to remove the bung from a barrel, then inserted a hollow glass tube into the barrel, blocking the other end with his finger.

When he withdrew the glass tube, its lower end held a considerable amount of wine.

He released his finger, allowing the wine from the glass tube to flow into a nearby glass. He then picked up the glass, sniffed it, and took a small sip.

Someone nearby anxiously asked, "Baron de Polutarc, how is it?"

A strange glint flashed in Baron de Polutarc's eyes, and he nodded vigorously. "Excellent! Although the quality is ordinary because these were cellar-stored grapes, it truly has no sourness whatsoever!"

Another vineyard owner eagerly stepped forward, took the glass, and, disregarding that someone else had already drunk from it, tilted his head back and tasted it. He immediately exclaimed with excitement, "It truly has no sourness at all!"

Baron de Polutarc then drew wine from the next oak barrel, tasted it, and once again gasped in astonishment. "It's the same! Completely unsour!"

The crowd could no longer restrain themselves. Everyone clamored for glasses, gathered around to taste, and then waves of excited exclamations rose and fell.

When Baron de Polutarc had inspected the last oak barrel and looked at Joseph again, his eyes held nothing but reverence.

"Your esteemed Royal Highness, I can confirm that your brewing technique is effective..." He then shook his head suddenly. "No, it's simply perfect!"

Twelve barrels of wine, and not a single one failed to brew! Baron de Polutarc was intimately familiar with the skill of his own brewers, and this had been absolutely impossible before.

In the past, if twelve barrels were brewed, he would certainly reward his brewers if no more than two barrels turned into "vinegar."

But this time, with the aid of the Crown Prince's miraculous brewing technique, not a single barrel went bad!

This meant, effectively, a nearly 30% reduction in his winemaking costs!

Alongside an almost 100% success rate, the quality of the wine had also significantly improved.

This wine, completely devoid of sourness, was undoubtedly a high-end product, whose selling price would surely be one or two times higher than before!

He felt his heart pounding furiously. He had just made a rough calculation, and with this increase in quality and reduction in cost, his annual income would increase by nearly ten thousand livres!

Clearly, the other vineyard owners had also calculated the profits the new technique would bring them, and they were all discussing it with immense excitement.

Suddenly, someone bowed to Joseph and asked, "Your esteemed Royal Highness, what is the cost of implementing your brewing technique?"

Everyone froze, then looked at Joseph in unison. 'Indeed,' they thought, 'even if income doubles, if the cost also doubles, we won't earn much more...'

"I haven't calculated that," Joseph replied, somewhat unsure, as he had no idea how much it cost to heat a barrel of water. "However, the added cost per barrel of wine shouldn't exceed one sou."

Everyone's eyes immediately lit up.

Just one sou per barrel of wine? In their cellars, workers pilfering a few sips usually resulted in greater losses than that!

Someone couldn't help but curl his lips into a triumphant smile. "Let's see how the Venetians compete with us now!"

Another burst into hearty laughter. "Why just Venice? With His Royal Highness's brewing technique, even Spanish wines won't be a match for Bordeaux!"

"Bordeaux wine will conquer the entire European market!"

"Exactly! All of Europe will drink our wine!"

"Long live His Royal Highness the Crown Prince!"

Vergniaud raised his wine glass and declared loudly, "To His Royal Highness the Crown Prince!"

The others immediately followed suit, raising their glasses and echoing in unison, "To His Royal Highness the Crown Prince!"

After the vineyard owners' excitement had subsided a little, they exchanged glances, and Count de Tollendal stepped forward on behalf of them all, bowing to Joseph. "Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince, how might we be granted access to your brewing technique?"

Joseph nodded. He had laid the groundwork for so long; it was finally time to reap the rewards. He smiled and said, "The purpose of establishing the French Brewing Technology Association is to grant its members access to the new brewing technique. The technology usage fee will be 3% of the selling price of each barrel of wine."

Upon hearing this, everyone was overjoyed. They had worried the Crown Prince would ask an exorbitant price, but it was only 3%. Considering that the quality improvement alone from the new technique could double the selling price, 3% was practically nothing.

Count de Tollendal immediately asked, "Your Royal Highness, what are the qualifications for membership?"

Joseph drew out his words. "That... I haven't quite decided yet."

Everyone present was taken aback.

Joseph then looked at Vergniaud and the others who had agreed to plant large quantities of potatoes a few days prior. "However, Monsieur Vergniaud, Viscount Clément, Monsieur Mounier, and others have already demonstrated their loyalty to His Majesty the King through their actions. To commend this loyalty, I believe they will be among the first to become members."

Vergniaud and the others were ecstatic. They had simply agreed to plant some potatoes to alleviate famine among the populace, never imagining such an unexpected reward!

The other vineyard owners paused, hearing "demonstrated loyalty to the King," but recalling the recent actions of Vergniaud and the others, they quickly found the answer: they had agreed to plant vast amounts of potatoes!

Baron de Polutarc lowered his head in thought. 'As long as I can get the new winemaking technique, even if the potatoes yield little, the loss can be easily offset by the wine's profits. After all, the potato "seeds" are provided by the government, and wine income can at least double.'

With this thought, he immediately stepped forward two paces and declared, "Your Royal Highness, I am willing to plant about 67 hectares of potatoes!"

Joseph looked at him and asked, "What is the approximate area of your vineyard?"

"About 267 hectares."

"For every four hectares of grapes, plant one hectare of potatoes," Joseph nodded slightly. "This adequately demonstrates your loyalty."

Baron de Polutarc was delighted. "Your Royal Highness, does this mean I can join the association?"

"Yes." Joseph nodded. "The membership fee will be calculated based on the vineyard area, at 50 livres per hectare annually."

"Membership fee?" Baron de Polutarc instinctively looked at Vergniaud and the others. Seeing no reaction from Joseph, he immediately understood: they had a special discount.

However, compared to the enormous profits brought by the new brewing technique, this membership fee was negligible. He readily agreed.

Seeing this, the other vineyard owners eagerly vied to express their commitment. "Your Royal Highness, I can also plant about 200 hectares of potatoes. Oh, I have a total of about 800 hectares of vineyards."

"Your Royal Highness, I am willing to plant about 167 hectares..."

"Your Royal Highness, I will also plant about 334 hectares..."

As for the "Land Tax Alliance," it had long been forgotten, banished to the furthest reaches of their minds.

Joseph smiled, gesturing for everyone to register their areas with Eman and sign the planting contracts.

Vergniaud watched the vineyard owners eagerly signing up to plant potatoes, and suddenly remembered something. He quickly approached Joseph. "Your Royal Highness, Count de Leudeny and the others are not yet aware of today's events. Do you think I should inform them?"

He was referring to those who had taken leave on the second day after Joseph had called the meeting.

Joseph scoffed, shaking his head. "Thank you for the reminder, but it's unnecessary. The membership threshold for the French Brewing Technology Association is not something everyone can reach."

Upon hearing this, the surrounding vineyard owners all felt a chill run down their spines, yet simultaneously, a wave of relief washed over them.

They knew that if most cellars started using the new brewing technique, those without it would quickly lose their competitiveness and eventually face bankruptcy.

'It's a good thing I didn't listen to Count de Leudeny that day,' they thought, 'otherwise, my own winery might have been on the bankruptcy list.'