Chapter 134: Crown Prince: Those Scoundrels Won't Get an Extra Cent From Me
The War Minister narrowed his eyes. If the Queen was pulling the strings behind the scenes, then the information reporting the French Guards officers must have come from the royal family's agents—the Secret Police.
Even the farmhouse shelling incident was uncovered by them.
It all made perfect sense now. A woman seeking to protect her son was indeed no different from an enraged lioness.
He looked at Berthier. "How did you come by this information?"
Berthier instinctively recoiled, mumbling evasively, "General, I naturally have my unique sources of information."
"The important thing is, I can guarantee the reliability of this information, and I have a way to resolve your predicament."
Marquis Saint-Priest scrutinized him from head to toe once more, then nodded slowly. "Very well, please tell me what solution you have in mind."
Berthier quickly rehearsed his pitch, feeling as if he were about to face an examination. To be honest, he disliked being pushed into the spotlight, but the Crown Prince had said that only he was the most suitable candidate for this task. To repay His Highness, he had mustered his courage and come here.
"First, you must quell the public outcry as quickly as possible."
"Announce publicly that the military will severely punish those responsible for the attack on the Crown Prince. Then, present a few minor figures, hand down heavy sentences, and make a strong example," Berthier fidgeted, intertwining his fingers. "For those involved in the farmhouse shelling, especially Théodore, the ringleader, it would be best to hold a public trial to establish an impartial image for the Military Police department."
The War Minister waved his hand impatiently, cutting him off. "What you're suggesting is very useful, but if reports against officers continue to pour in, the matter will never be resolved."
Berthier nodded. "Yes, General, and that's where I can come into play."
"You? What can you do?"
The root of all these problems lay in the Crown Prince's injury during the attack. If His Highness could express his forgiveness to the Queen for those in the French Guards who were 'not involved', coupled with Besenval and several other officers being severely punished, then Her Majesty the Queen would likely drop the matter.
Saint-Priest frowned, saying, "His Highness the Crown Prince's injuries haven't even healed. He must harbor deep resentment towards the French Guards. How could he possibly speak on their behalf?"
"Actually, I am a close confidant of an important person close to the Crown Prince," Berthier lied, unable even to meet the War Minister's gaze. "Moreover, this person selflessly protected His Highness during the attack and earned His Highness's praise. If he can help, there's a strong chance of persuading the Crown Prince."
Saint-Priest shot upright upon hearing this. "Is what you say true?"
"Yes, General."
Saint-Priest stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Then, if I may ask, what do you stand to gain?"
'Finally, the critical part!'
Berthier took a silent breath and said, "As you know, I am of humble origins, so I'm only capable of conducting research, at most commanding an engineer battalion.
"But I have always wanted to become a true officer, one who could lead armies into battle.
"Therefore, I want a regiment."
Saint-Priest immediately broke into an easy smile. "That's not difficult, Major Berthier. I recall it was I who signed the orders for your transfer to Paris. Now, I shall sign your commission promoting you to regimental commander. Oh, I should address you as Lieutenant Colonel Berthier now."
Berthier interjected immediately. "General, please let me finish."
"Oh? Do you have any other requests?"
"Well, I want an elite regiment."
"Agreed." Compared to the current massive problem, the command of an elite regiment was of no concern to Saint-Priest.
"An elite unit like the French Guards, for example," Berthier rubbed his hands together, adding, "And ideally, I'd like to select the soldiers myself."
Saint-Priest frowned slightly. This junior officer was quite presumptuous.
However, he quickly realized that the French Guards' reputation was utterly ruined, and their barracks had even been moved to Molette-Rowan Town. They would likely soon become a second-rate unit.
'Never mind. Let him pick as he pleases.'
So he nodded again. "I can grant you that."
After they had ironed out all the details, Berthier stood up, preparing to take his leave.
Marquis Saint-Priest escorted him to the door, then suddenly asked, "Lieutenant Colonel, can you tell me who exactly is the person behind you?"
From Berthier's demeanor just now, and the influence he seemed to possess, Saint-Priest judged that he was likely just a spokesperson for some powerful figure.
"General, please await my good news." Berthier bowed respectfully and then immediately slipped into his carriage.
The War Minister watched the carriage disappear into the distance, muttering to himself, "Is it General Custine? No, he shouldn't have such influence in Paris.
"Or Baron Breti? Berthier was recommended by him.
"Or, perhaps, the Queen herself..."
He immediately laughed and shook his head. If the Queen were capable of such cunning schemes, how could France be in its current state?
...
Joseph leaned back in his sickbed, and after listening to Berthier's report, he suddenly frowned. "He agreed so quickly?"
"Yes, Your Highness, he agreed to everything with almost no hesitation."
Joseph slapped his hand on his thigh, a look of regret on his face. "This means the price was too low! I'm afraid you'll have to go again tomorrow..."
After instructing him on 'raising the price', he then cautioned Berthier, "I will have Major Dubois bring the police academy personnel to help you select your soldiers.
"Reject all officers of high noble birth or those who bought their commissions.
"Also, reject anyone with violations of military discipline or criminal records.
"Remember to take all the cavalry horses and weaponry. As for supplies like uniforms and tents, take as much as you can; don't be shy."
Berthier stared at the Crown Prince with wide eyes, feeling that he had a remarkable talent for banditry.
As night fell, Joseph looked at the stars outside his window, carefully going through everyone he needed to deal with.
He needed to find Marat a new 'prey'; otherwise, Marat would surely keep hounding the French Guards officers until he completely tore them apart.
Joseph didn't feel the need to completely antagonize the military aristocracy just yet. His objective had always been to acquire the elite core of the French Guards and to dismantle Besenval and the other Orleanist Faction members.
With his objectives largely achieved, he could afford to hold back for now. With the pro-royalist Flanders Brigade stationed in Paris and the traitor Besenval exiled to Seychelles, at least the historical scenario of riots in Paris while the garrison stood idly by would not recur.
"The Duke of Orleans?"
Joseph shook his head. That fellow was too deeply entrenched; even if he found leverage against him, it wouldn't be easy to act.
"The great nobles in the Assembly of Notables who still sought to divide power?"
The targets were too numerous and dispersed, and Marat and his people lacked sufficient manpower at the moment, so the results wouldn't be ideal.
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