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Chapter 823: Joseph in Brussels

After finishing the discussion regarding Flemish independence, Joseph turned to Fouché with further instructions.

"There is another critical matter for the Intelligence Bureau. The Republic of Genoa will hold its gubernatorial elections in two months. It would be best if more representatives sympathetic to France were elected."

Fouché bowed slightly. "We still have some troops stationed in Genoa. That shouldn't be too difficult to arrange."

Joseph shook his head. "No. Before the election begins, withdraw all our troops. Throughout the entire process, there must be no trace of our involvement.

"The Genoese must believe the results are entirely their own doing."

"That..." Fouché frowned slightly but nodded. "It will be challenging, but the family dynamics in Genoa are complex. We can use those internal rivalries as leverage."

"Excellent," Joseph continued. "My minimum requirement is to break the control of the four great families over the council. Establish an oversight body influenced by us to monitor the Genoese bureaucracy, and ensure this is codified into their laws."

Fouché, having participated in setting up governments in the Caribbean and influencing the American presidential elections, possessed ample experience in such matters.

After a moment's reflection, he outlined a general plan which Joseph approved. As the Director of the Intelligence Bureau prepared to leave, he paused as if recalling something. "Your Highness, there is a minor matter that caught my attention. I believe it is worth reporting."

"It concerns Mr. John Sander, the senior technician at the United Steam Engine Company," Fouché explained. "Six months ago, Matthew Boulton—the major shareholder of the British steam engine firm—approached him secretly.

"From what I have confirmed, Mr. Sander rejected the British offer, though he did not report the encounter.

"Boulton entered France from Biscay, Spain, just a few days ago.

"I suspect he is here for industrial espionage.

"Should we take necessary measures against him?"

"Boulton?" Joseph narrowed his eyes.

He knew the Boulton-Watt company had been struggling lately; this was clearly an attempt to poach Sander.

He wasn't particularly worried about technical secrets being leaked. Sander was now wealthy and famous, and he was currently courting a French noblewoman. The British had little hope of buying him off. Furthermore, the Intelligence Bureau had agents assigned to all core technical personnel to ensure their safety and loyalty.

Joseph was about to tell Fouché to simply deport Boulton, but the words died in his throat.

Boulton and Watt were the leaders of British steam technology, the very heart of the future Industrial Revolution.

Since Boulton had delivered himself to his doorstep, why be polite?

This was a perfect opportunity to throw a wrench into their operations—or perhaps break them entirely.

Thinking of this, he looked at Fouché. "Keep him under surveillance for now, but do not alert him.

"Also, use the signal towers to notify Mr. Sander. Have him come to Brussels as soon as possible."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Joseph's schedule was always packed. As soon as Fouché left, Eman arrived to remind him of the General Staff's operational meeting.

The discussion naturally focused on the campaign in the Netherlands and how to cut off the Duke of York's retreat.

The meeting didn't conclude until nearly dinner time.

Joseph returned to his office, yawning. He was just telling Eman, "For dinner, please, anything but that charcoal-grilled beef soaked in beer..."

Suddenly, a graceful figure in a black-and-white dress hurried toward him. She curtsied gracefully, her voice soft and filled with joy. "Your Highness, you've returned?"

Joseph was momentarily stunned before a surprised smile broke across his face. "Camelia? What are you doing here? Have you fully recovered?"

"Thanks to your kindness, I am completely well now." The maid gave a radiant smile. Though her face was still somewhat thin, a healthy color had returned to her cheeks. "Her Majesty the Queen worries about you every day. She feared you weren't eating well abroad, so she sent me to Brussels to look after you."

She paused, adding in a whisper, "I have also missed you dearly."

She gestured for the accompanying maids to bring forward several exquisite boxes. "Oh, Your Highness, Her Majesty sent these. They are all your favorite pastries."

Joseph saw an array of strawberry cakes, frosted almond biscuits, and colorful macarons—enough to last a month.

Camelia pointed to the bottom of the boxes. "The Queen had ice packed into a hidden compartment at the base to ensure everything stayed fresh."

For some reason, Joseph felt a slight sting in his nose. He laughed it off. "Aha, this is enough to make every pastry chef in the Southern Netherlands bow in worship.

"So, how are the King and Queen doing lately?"

Although he could check on his parents via the Chappe telegraph at any time, hearing it from Camelia felt more personal.

"They are doing very well," she replied, launching into the latest gossip from Versailles. "Her Majesty attends fewer balls now, but she often asks for news from the Southern Netherlands. She even commissioned several sets of military-style outfits. Actually, military fashion is very popular in Paris right now—modeled after the style you wear. Both the ladies and gentlemen love it.

"His Majesty the King still spends his days immersed in the Royal Workshop..."

She continued happily as she followed Joseph into his office. "Oh, you mentioned 'beer-soaked meat' earlier. Do you not like the local food? If you are willing to wait a moment, let me prepare dinner for you."

Joseph trusted Camelia's cooking implicitly, but seeing her tired eyes—the result of both her recent illness and the long journey—he was about to decline. Then, a young woman's voice came from behind Camelia. "Your Highness, Miss Camelia has just recovered and needs rest. Perhaps you would grant me the honor of cooking for you in her stead."

Joseph looked over. Standing there was a tall, slender young woman, about five-foot-seven, with curly black hair pinned back. Her deep blue eyes and every movement were perfectly poised and calculated.

She seemed familiar. He looked at Camelia. "And this is?"

"Oh, Your Highness, how rude of me! I completely forgot to introduce her. This is Miss Véronique Legris. She was the one who identified the person who pushed me into the water back on the Pyroscaphe."