A/N: There will be a lot of jumping between a lot of POVs this chapter. If that's not your thing, you can find the summary at the A/N below!
POV Maupeou
I woke up early.
Just as every day when I was first appointed as the First Minister of France
I looked through the window, hands clasped behind my back, taking in the gardens, the birds, and the gently swaying trees. After a moment, I turned back to my desk. Tomorrow, it will no longer be my study, my table, or my window.
I wished that these past two months had passed more slowly.
I knew my dismissal would come sooner or later, yet it still made me uneasy. A man who tasted power doesn't want to give it away easily, but I did, by order of the young king.
I exhaled slowly.
4 years as First Minister of France.
I wonder what my legacy will be? Will somebody write a grand book of my 4 years, or will they spite me?
But I think that I will leave this post as a legacy of order.
Order, and the breaking of men who believed themselves untouchable.
The parlements had thought themselves so. Ancient, immovable, righteous in their obstruction. I have shattered them with the authority of a king who no longer exists. I had spent 4 years building a system of royal authority that would outlive the body of His late Majesty, Louis XV. I had broken the Parlements, exiled the magistrates, and replaced them with compliant courts that answered to the crown. I have made the monarchy absolute, both in fact and in name.
Yet they remanants stir, as soon as they got news of my dismissal, they flooded Versailles with their ilk and started pressuring the young king to reinstate the parliaments.
I tried curbing their influence as best as I could ,but my power has fallen since the news of my dismissal was made public, yet in spite of that, I have to give acknowledgment to His Majesty; young as he can be, he didn't cave in.
The young monarch surprised me. Just a couple of years back, he was blushing, stammering, and easily led, eager to please, yet now he can see glimpses of a true monarch, just like His Majesty Louis XIV. The young king has still much to learn, but I felt like he is moving in the right direction.
Though I fear for my successor, Jean Frédéric Phélypeaux, Count of Maurepas, an older man than even myself, yet I knew of him; he was a quite successful Secretary of State of the Navy before being ousted by a coup led by the Duke of Richelieu, putting an end to his period of immense success. He was exiled from Versailles for an epigram against Madame de Pompadour.
While his appointment is a safe move made by His Majesty, as Jean Frédéric Phélypeaux has no enemies in the court, he knew how politics moved; he was stable, while I made enemies almost everywhere.
But I heard that since His Majesty wasn't budging in his positions, the remnants of parliament and their supporters started moving towards the upcoming First Minister of France, and I fear that, wanting to make a good impression and escalate the situation, he will give in to their demands.
So I made it my new objective for these past two months to convince His Majesty and my replacement to never cave in to their demands.
And yet, there it was, the thought that gnawed at me in the small hours of the night... What if they fail and succumb to the pressure?
Hopefully they will listen, and if not... No. I will not entertain the thought.
knock knock
A knock was heard at the door.
"Enter"
I said as a servant, then entered carrying a couple of dossiers.
"Sir, the dossiers you asked for."
"Good, leave them at my table."
The servant left with a bow, and I smiled. I still hold some respect and power after all.
I'm not gone. Not yet, and there's still a lot of work left to do.
Joseph Marie Terray POV
I slept poorly,and not from worry, but from irritation. A dull, persistent irritation that had settled into my bones ever since the dismissal announcement.
I sat at my office with shelves of pale oak filled with countless papers and a ceiling painted to resemble the sky at dawn, reading the reports that still found their way to me. The numbers, at least, had not changed in their stubborn refusal to align with reality.
France was still in debt.
That had not changed.
For 4 years, it hadn't changed.
What had changed was that someone else would now bear the illusion of fixing it.
Anne Robert Jacques Turgot, his successor as Controller-General of Finances.
I had heard the stories, of course. Turgot, that earnest physiocrat, a middle-class gentleman.
As soon as he came to Versailles, he was already talking about the reforms he would like to propose, like free trade of grain, the reduction of royal household expenses, and the endless memoranda on efficiency and justice.
For me, it smelled of optimism.
Just as I was 4 years ago, until I saw the numbers.
The Treasury is and was empty.
While some of the reforms were sound, I feel like Turgot will fail because he was too new, untested in politics, and too eager.
Turgot wanted to be loved. Turgot wanted to be just.
While I had kept the crown afloat for four years through economies both bold and subtle. I had borrowed, delayed, refinanced, and occasionally invented money where none existed. It was not noble work. It was necessary work. And it was work that required a man willing to be hated, just like I was now.
Let Turgot discover it for himself.
The thought was not cruel. Not entirely.
Since the announcement, I have always had a flicker of curiosity. How long would it take? How long before the new Controller-General understood that numbers did not bend to philosophy?
I had a small amount of pity for Turgot instead of him beaing a wolf in sheep's clothing, I thought of him more like a sheep lost in a den of hungry wolves, soon he will see the reserves. He will see the ledgers that he had not yet discovered. The hidden debts, the deferred payments, the obligations that would come due like wolves at the door.
I can immediately say that his freeing of the grain trade will not work, as a lot of powerful nobles and even princes of the blood were interested in the speculations in grain prices, and his desire to tax nobility and clergy will be blocked immediately.
I had collected what could be collected, imposed what could be imposed, endured hatred in exchange for stability, yet I feel like His Majesty is gambling it all by appointing someone so untested.
But numbers never lie, maybe...just maybe Turgot will succeed if numbers are in his favor.
Emmanuel Armand de Vignerot du Plessis, Duke of Aiguillon POV
I paced around my room on the day of the new King's first council. I bottled my emotions as I would not show weakness, but after 2 months of unsuccessful attempts to remain in power, I started to get irritated.
"Vergennes"
I said, as though speaking the name might somehow diminish it.
"Vergennes."
I repeated.
I will never understand how calmly Maupeou and Terray acknowledged their dismissals. We three were the "Triumvirate" like Julius Caesar, Pompey the Great, and Marcus Licinius Crassus of old, and yet 4 years of service as Minister of Foreign Affairs and many more as a soldier just to be dismissed.
As if diplomacy were a matter of fashion.
dismissed.
The alliance with Austria, the renewal of the family pact with Spain, and the silent wars against Britain in the colonies. He had been the King's hand in matters of state, the man to whom ambassadors knelt and ministers deferred. And now he was nothing.
"Foreign Affairs is not a salon, it is not a place for clever conversation and measured smiles. It is..."
I stopped, turning abruptly.
"It is power."
The word hung there.
It had always been the truth I operated by. Alliances, negotiations, wars deferred or provoked—they were tools, nothing more. And he had wielded them with the confidence of a man who understood that the world respected strength above all else.
And now
Now he was being replaced by someone known for subtlety.
For patience.
For listening.
I let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Yes, let us see how far patience carries him when Europe decides to test a boy-king."
I moved to the window, gripping the frame.
The courtyard below stirred with activity—servants, officers, messengers moving with the quiet urgency of a system in transition. I watched them for a long moment, my reflection faint in the glass.
This was not just dismissal.
It was a rejection of the method. Of philosophy.
Of me.
The new King thought me obsolete, yet wasn't it I who made the coup of Gustav III succeed through his use of Secret du Roi, thus making Sweden into an ally?
I calmed myself down.
I have letters to send....
Louis François, Marquis de Monteynard POV
"Sir, should I bring breakfast to your room?"
A servant asked as he helped me dress.
"Yes."
I replied while buttoning my shirt.
Sleeping till so late was a rarity for me as long as I can remember.
From 14, I already enlisted in the army, and I participated in all major campaigns of His Majesty Louis XV, on the battlefields of Italy, Austria, on the island of Minorca, Germany, and Holland.
And now, for the past 4 years, I served as Secretary of State for War.
Yet today was the last day in my office.
Just as my other fellow ministers,well, most of them had calm reactions, except probably Emmanuel Armand de Vignerot du Plessis, both of us were men of war, but the Foreign Affairs Minister was quite emotional.
I was not a man given to dramatics.
War had taught me that.
Armies did not function on outrage or wounded pride. They functioned on structure, discipline, and the quiet acceptance that one's role could change without warning.
Yet there was uncertainty for me.
What should I do tomorrow? I thought that I would return to the army.
While I still believe I could lead and command, being 61 years of age, it doesn't seem so attractive anymore. Maybe I could focus on my homeland? Build myself a mansion or a castle?
Well, that could wait for me tomorrow as I still have my last duties to perform.
With my dressing done, I waited for breakfast to come.
And while waiting, my mind began to wander about my successor.
Louis Nicolas Victor de Félix d'Ollières POV
He was a soldier also , but also a menin for His Majesty Louis XVI
Yet i heard he suffered a deafeat at the Battle of Warburg during Seven Years war to a smaller force, but I think he learned a lot from that.
As soon as he was named as my successor, I let him take care of minor things, and slowly I gave him more and more responsibilities, and for the past week, I was Secretary of State for War in name only as I left everything to him.
We had lengthy talks with him about what we have to change about the army.
We already worked on new regulations, new training manuals, and new requirements for promotion. All of it sensible, all of it long overdue.
The army was recovering.
Slowly, imperfectly, but undeniably.
The humiliation of the last war had not been erased, but it had been addressed. Reforms begun. Foundations laid.
And now those foundations would be handed to another.
Hopefully, we will return to the not-so-distant days of Louis XIV and the glory that the French army held.
Pierre-Étienne Bourgeois de Boynes POV
Frigates. Ships of the line. Proposals, revisions, ambitions.
The ships that now sail from Brest and Toulon all over the New World and the Old.
I moved from one model to another, touching them as if confirming they still existed.
Even if it was my last day as Secretary of the Navy, it was just as busy as it was on my first day.
I had begun something.
Something that would outlast me, of course, if it were allowed to.
"Fleurieu"
I said, testing the name.
It did not anger me in the same way as the others.
That, perhaps, made it worse.
Fleurieu understood the navy. That much was known. A marine since he was 13 and a veteran of the Seven Years' War
Which meant the transition might be… seamless.
I pressed my lips together.
History was rarely fair in its accounting.
I knew that.
But knowing it did not dull the edge of the injustice.
Yet I have to agree that if somebody had to change me, then it had to be Fleurieu.
Hopefully, he will succeed where I had failed, and I wish him all the luck.
Guillaume-Chrétien de Lamoignon de Malesherbes POV
By late afternoon, the light had begun to soften.
The palace, so rigid in its routines, seemed to loosen at the edges. Doors remained open a moment longer. Conversations stretched, then faltered.
Endings rarely announced themselves.
They accumulated.
In a quiet corner of my office, I sat alone.
I had accepted his dismissal with grace and honor.
Perhaps because, unlike the others, I had always stood slightly apart from the machinery of power. Close enough to influence it. Distant enough to question it.
I was the Secretary of the Maison du Roi, the man responsible for the King's household, for the royal palaces. It was not a position that lent itself to grand gestures or historic reforms. But it was a position that allowed him to protect. To shield. To mitigate. I had used it to shield Diderot during the long years of the Encyclopédie's persecution.
I turned a letter over in my hands.
Unsent.
Unnecessary.
There was little to say that had not already been decided.
His young Majesty had chosen his path.
I found that I did not entirely oppose it.
That was the strange part.
He set the letter down.
Outside, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Voices, muted, uncertain.
Change, he thought, rarely feels like triumph.
More often, it feels like this.
An absence.
A space where certainty used to be.
He rose slowly, moving toward the door.
There was nothing left to prepare.
Only to leave.
3rd person POV
Evening came quietly.
No ceremony marked the end.
No final council. No formal farewell, except a letter to each minister from Louis XVI himself.
The old ministers departed their offices one by one, their work left in careful order—or deliberate disarray, depending on the man.
Maupeou was among the last.
He stood once more by the window, the gardens now cast in gold and shadow.
For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine.
Not regret.
Never that.
But possibility.
What might have been, had his late Majesty lived a little longer. Had the young one chosen differently?
Then he dismissed it.
History did not bend to such thoughts.
He turned, taking one final look at the room.
And let himself a small smile.
And with that, René Nicolas Charles Augustin de Maupeou stepped out of the office that had once made him one of the most powerful men in France.
The door closed behind him.
By nightfall, Versailles remained what it had always been.
Grand. Ordered. Eternal in appearance.
But within its walls, something had shifted irrevocably.
Tomorrow, new men would take their places.
New ideas would take root.
New decisions would begin their quiet transformation of the kingdom.
And the old servants
They would become memory.
Not erased.
Not forgotten.
But no longer present.
The baton had passed.
And history, indifferent as the rising sun, moved forward without them.
A/N:
Summary: Basically, all of the old ministers have a giant group recollection of their works. Some take their dismissals with honor, some as inevitable, while some are bitter at the loss of power and status :P What do you expect more? Well, there is nothing more LOL.
Now the real A/N begins, and first I want to say:
Fuck you, Frosty the doggy! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
No, but seriously, I have to thank him, if not for him always asking about a new chap you would proboly would see this in Summer or even later
So big W for him
Now you can skip reading this, as after this point, this will be a mini rant about life.
Now I'm finally back! At first, I thought this winter would be relaxing and I could focus on writing. But then we got a ton of snow, so I was busy with my sled dogs. After that, Christmas and New Year arrived, which meant a lot of celebrating, traveling, and, honestly, a bit too much drinking, my liver is still recovering.
Not long after, my dad got sick, so I spent two weeks at my aunt's house. As soon as I got home, I ended up getting sick myself for another two weeks. Basically, I didn't even turn on my PC in January.
When February came around, I just dove straight into gaming for a while. Then in March, I started working again and picked up both volleyball and football practice. I even played in a futsal tourney, and we took 1st place!
BTW, I have the next chapter ready already, so ama go sleep and when I wake up, I will re-read it and maybe edit something and then post it.
P.S: Is it me or Grammarly is kinda bad right now? Do you guys know some alternatives?
Though I like the Reader Reactions section for this chapter, it says:
Fiction readers will remember
Multiple character perspectives show the ministers' emotions and reactions.
The author interacts directly and humorously with readers in the notes.
A summary and life update make catching up easy for returning readers.
Fiction readers might ask
Story continuity · Will the next chapter continue with new ministers or return to previous main characters?
POV clarity · Can you clarify transitions between POVs for easier reading?
Author updates · Will there be a more regular update schedule now that you're back?
Character focus · Will we see more personal moments or just political events in future chapters?