Chapter 1455: Prince Regent
Joseph didn't know whether to laugh or cry as he looked at his parents. "So, just because you wanted to take a long vacation to Brittany, you..."
He had intended to say "turned Paris upside down," but seeing his mother's expression—resembling a child who had been caught misbehaving—he let out a long sigh instead of finishing the sentence.
"Actually, if you wanted to go out and enjoy yourselves, I could have found an excuse for you at any time. There was really no need for all this trouble. For instance, we could have hosted a diplomatic summit for European monarchs in Brittany."
Queen Marie blinked. "That really is a wonderful idea. Why didn't I think of that? But, oh, wouldn't it be quite a hassle to move so many kings to Brittany?"
Joseph thought to himself, 'Even if the Pope were to preside over the meeting, it wouldn't be a problem.'
"We don't need to worry about that problem now," he sighed again. "Never mind. It's actually good for your health to travel around. However, you can't stay in Brittany forever, can you?
"What I mean is, there will surely come a day when you miss the balls at Versailles and the performances at the Royal Theater."
Just moments ago, Queen Marie had explained the follow-up plan the Duke of Lévis had devised for her—they would publicly announce that Louis XVI was suffering from severe complications, including intermittent hearing loss and extreme forgetfulness. This would allow him to remain in Brittany under the guise of "receiving treatment."
Queen Marie immediately became conflicted.
Yet, the idea of never attending another ball or watching a play was almost impossible to accept.
"Then, what should we do?"
Louis XVI, however, scratched his chest nonchalantly. "I don't mind if we don't return to Paris, as long as you help me move the Royal Workshop to Brittany. Besides, I'm sure there are many interesting things to do at the shipyards."
Joseph smiled. "Actually, you are overthinking things.
"Rules only matter as long as everyone insists on following them. If no one mentions them, they aren't being broken.
"My suggestion is that you can return to Versailles whenever you like; don't worry about anything. When the time comes, the nobility will provide whatever assessment of Father's health is 'needed.' Even if you attend balls every day, you can still be in 'poor health.'
"Furthermore, you don't have to limit yourselves to Brittany. There is the ancient monastery amidst the rising tides of Mont-Saint-Michel, the palm groves of Cannes, and the warm, beautiful Bay of Angels in Nice. You could even visit the hot springs and Roman ruins of Upper Germania. Oh, wait—Basel is currently a war zone, and that's too close. You'll have to wait a bit before going there."
Upper Germania referred to the recently integrated regions around Bern, Switzerland.
Queen Marie's eyes lit up with excitement, and her only regret was not consulting her son from the very beginning.
Then, she hesitated slightly. "But, if your father is still 'ill,' wouldn't it be inappropriate to travel around like that?"
"Not at all," Joseph replied without a second thought. "Sanatoriums need to be built in various places anyway. You'll simply be traveling there for your treatments."
As he spoke, he noticed his father was still scratching himself incessantly, to the point where bloodstains were appearing on his shoulders. He hurriedly asked, "Father, what did you use to paint those red patches on your body?"
"A type of wood paint," Queen Marie said, sounding somewhat nervous. "I asked Monsieur Tristan, and he said he gets it on his hands all the time without any harm."
Joseph frowned. "Why didn't you use lipstick?"
"I was worried it would be washed away by sweat..."
Joseph massaged his temples and immediately called for the Imperial Physicians to examine him.
A moment later, Dr. Pertti pointed to the small red bumps beneath the "patches" and said, "I believe His Majesty is suffering from an intolerance to this particular paint..."
Joseph rubbed his forehead. "It seems to be an allergy."
The following day.
Although he was rendered speechless by his parents' "divine maneuvers," the situation had already progressed this far. Joseph had no choice but to return to Versailles and hold a simple Regency Ceremony.
However, led by the Senate, the nobility of Versailles took the matter extremely seriously. Every family member capable of attending the ceremony gathered at Versailles Palace Square. The music and cheers continued until dusk—though Joseph had already returned to his room to rest hours earlier.
The moment Alexandra saw her husband, the tension finally seemed to leave her body. Disregarding protocol, she threw herself into his arms, murmuring repeatedly, "Thank God! You're back. That's wonderful..."
Joseph gently patted her back, comforting her. "Rest easy. There was no coup d'état at all. Paris is the safest place in the world."
He knew that Alexandra had grown up in the Russian court, where the mantra was "no coup, no Tsar." Encountering a bizarre situation where "the King is gravely ill and the Crown Prince is away without news," it was inevitable that she would imagine the worst.
Alexandra looked at his relaxed expression and finally truly let go of her worries. But after only two seconds, she became anxious again. "I must immediately send someone to the Royal Military University. Er, I told some of your former subordinates to prepare for the 'worst-case scenario'..."
The Royal Military University was the successor to the Paris Police Academy, and it was the military force she knew to be most loyal to the Crown Prince.
Though Joseph felt she was being overly sensitive, he was mostly filled with warmth and gratitude.
He whispered into his wife's ear, "Actually, er, if I told you that all of this was just because Father and Mother wanted to go on vacation, would you believe me?"
That night, Alexandra held him tightly even in her sleep, as if she feared she might suddenly lose him.
By noon the next day, news such as "His Highness the Crown Prince officially becomes Prince Regent, His Majesty the King's condition temporarily stable" appeared in all the newspapers. The major churches of Paris were immediately surrounded by citizens coming to pray for the King.
At the Fontainebleau Sanatorium, on the lawn outside the King's room, Berthier bowed to Joseph. "Your Highness, I hope this does not interfere with your care for His Majesty?"
Joseph said helplessly, "It's fine. In fact, His Majesty's condition has already begun to improve. He will soon be heading to Brittany for further treatment."
"Thank God. His Majesty will surely recover his health."
The Chief of the General Staff offered a prayer for the King before continuing, "Your Highness, the General Staff has sent the Retreat Plan to Warsaw. We have suggested that they stabilize the current front lines and begin to contract their forces."
Joseph nodded. "And their response?"
"The Polish General Staff stated that this is a matter of great importance and must be decided by the Great Sejm."
Joseph's brow furrowed instantly.
Waiting for the various factions in the parliament to finish their squabbling would take at least half a month, and an accident could happen to Kościuszko's forces at any moment.
He looked toward Eman. "Please write a letter to His Majesty Stanislaw in my name. Tell him to issue the retreat order directly."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Berthier spoke again. "Your Highness, according to news just received, Mirza ambushed the Ottoman Army south of Tbilisi at the end of last month. They killed or captured over thirteen thousand men."
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