Chapter 54: Poisoned Chalice (2) Paris, the Palais-Royal residence.
The hideout of the revolutionary army that had taken the Bastille, and the stronghold of the Enlightenment thinkers.
The master of this residence—vast enough to hold several hundred, and grand enough to rival a palace—the Duke of Orléans, was sunk in deep thought.
It was all because of the ornate, extravagantly decorated letter lying on the table in his drawing room.
The contents of the letter, which began with [To my dear cousin, Orléans], were shocking.
He would yield the throne willingly? That supreme seat—the King of France and King of Navarre? And to Orléans himself, the very man who had tormented Louis the most?
"…What the hell are you plotting, Louis Auguste."
From dawn, when the letter arrived, until now, the Duke of Orléans had stared at it without a word. He murmured lowly.
"What do you want from me, you bastard."
He rose and circled the table with the letter, continuing.
The throne—fine.
Wasn't Orléans the man who had lived his whole life for this day?
Orléans was the one who had funded the revolutionary forces, incited the citizens, spread malicious rumors about Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI to shatter their authority, and formed secret organizations with nobles to check the king from the shadows.
Yet the moment the result of his life's obsession actually arrived, Orléans was swallowed by an endless whirlpool of suspicion.
A trap?
If it was a trap, what kind?
If I fall into it, what do I lose?
Assassination?
If assassination, which kind?
Poisoning? Hanging? Or a gunman's shot?
Thoughts thick with suspicion bit their own tails and kept going—perhaps because he had spent his entire life coveting another man's seat and devoting himself to political scheming.
But no matter how many times he recalculated every angle, Orléans could find nothing that would truly harm him.
The revolutionary forces shaking King Louis XVI saw Orléans as their patron and friend.
And among the nobles and the priestly faction as well, more of them were loyal to Orléans himself.
Hadn't there even been a precedent where priests under Orléans made a mess in the National Assembly at Orléans's command?
The army?
The army—yes, that was the one thing Louis had more of than him. The royal mercenary regiments were France's finest fighting forces.
But if Orléans became king, even the last remaining army would swear loyalty to Orléans.
With the support of the revolutionary forces, the support of the nobles and priests, and the loyalty of the army as well, Orléans would stand tall as the undisputed ruler of France.
Of course, once he became king, he would have to grind the revolutionary forces—those who would hinder him from wielding royal authority—until not a handful remained. But could a man who had already driven a king to this point through political intrigue really fail at that?
"Hah. 'Philippe Égalité' this and that. What a joke. We're not childish teenagers."
Orléans muttered so softly no one could hear.
After agonizing for a long while, Orléans finally decided.
The worry that began at dawn only ended when the sun passed the very center of the sky.
"Right. This is the result I, Orléans, achieved. At last, all my efforts will finally see the light."
So what if there's a little poison on it—it'll just be a little annoying.
When the time comes to "clean up" the abdicated Louis and the revolutionary forces, he could clean up a bit of poison along with them.
That day, the Duke of Orléans sent a letter to Versailles.
A letter accepting the succession to the throne.
Fweeeet.
"Wow. That's a big one, Your Majesty."
Whistling, I waved the letter so Louis XVI could see it clearly.
"That Orléans bastard has spent decades tormenting me to death—how could he not welcome hearing I'll give him the throne? It's no wonder his eyes would flip. So, Finance Minister—what should I do now?"
Louis replied with a grin.
Hmm. The basic preparations to make him eat shit are done, but this still feels like it won't be enough.
How should I put it—if you really want to make someone feel like absolute shit, don't you have to drop them straight to the floor at the exact moment they're happiest?
Like when you open the perfect team fight and win, but your base explodes to one enemy's backdoor push.
Like when you bite into songpyeon and there are beans inside.
Hey, Orléans—there's no such thing as absolute royal authority! The throne you wanted! The seat you wanted! The authority you dragged into the dirt! Swallow it all sweetly.
I looked at Louis XVI and asked,
"…Where do they usually hold the coronation?"
"In Reims Cathedral."
"Oh-ho, is that so? Heeheeheehee."
"…I don't know what kind of trick you're plotting, Finance Minister, but I'm quite pleased that I'm not the target."
Even at Louis's words, I shrugged and continued.
"Do you know how long it takes to go from Reims to Paris, and then from Paris back to Versailles?"
"Hmm. If I recall my own coronation, you can think of it as about two days. A coronation has all sorts of complicated things, you see."
"Two days. Two days…"
Plenty.
In those two days, I'll wrap that thing called 'king' in explosives and hand it over.
No—forget explosives. A nuclear bomb.
To do that, it's best to lay as many trap cards as possible.
After my audience with Louis XVI ended, I went to see Marie Antoinette.
"Your Majesty, we meet again after a few days."
"Yes, Finance Minister. Thank you for granting my difficult request."
Marie Antoinette said that, then bowed her head with her usual dignified smile.
"The fact that you've come to me, Finance Minister, means you've come to claim the compensation I promised last time."
"That's correct, Your Majesty. But may I change that compensation… a little?"
"Change the compensation—what do you mean?"
Marie Antoinette tilted her head at my words.
"Rather than Your Majesty supporting me personally, please introduce one or two people to me."
"…People—what kind?"
"If you could introduce me to a trustworthy priest, that should be enough."
Every matter needs a hype man. If it's reform—something completely outside the existing order—then it goes without saying.
Marie narrowed her brows, pondered for a moment, then said,
"…But isn't the Finance Minister already on close terms with Bishop Sieyès of Chartres?"
"That's why I'm looking for someone new. If someone close to me supports my policy, people will just say 'birds of a feather.' Likewise, even if a priest friendly with Father Sieyès says he supports me, it'll be the same."
Your Majesty is acquainted with outstanding clerics like Bishop Brienne, the former Finance Minister, so I'm asking you like this. I added.
At my words, Marie Antoinette nodded.
"Hm. If that is what the Finance Minister says, then I will take responsibility and look into it."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"
"It's nothing. Just saving my husband is a debt I can never repay."
Marie Antoinette said with a bright smile.
"Welcome, Finance Minister!"
"Thank you for the hospitality, Commander Lafayette."
"Haha! Yes, so what brings you to see me?"
Commander Lafayette laughed genially, sat with me, and spoke.
"I came because there's something I'd like to discuss regarding the Flanders mercenary regiment."
At my words, the bright expression on Commander Lafayette's face hardened.
"…Mm. Please wait a moment, Finance Minister."
The commander stood, opened the door, checked the corridor, then returned to his seat and said,
"Where did you hear that?"
"…I heard it directly from His Majesty."
"I see… What did he… say?"
"He said he was going to summon the Flanders mercenary regiment to Versailles."
"…Pardon?"
Lafayette stared at me with a dumbfounded expression.
"Not His Majesty—the Duke of Orléans."
"…"
At my words, Commander Lafayette's eyes darted around for a long time, then he looked back at me and said,
"The Duke of Orléans… you say?"
"That's right."
"The Duke of Orléans is one of the greatest patrons of our revolutionary forces. Why would such a man…"
"There's evidence as well. Evidence that the Duke of Orléans egged His Majesty on."
"To be frank… it's hard to believe. I have some acquaintance with both His Majesty and the Duke of Orléans…"
"It's fine if you can't believe it. I'm telling you this so that, just in case, you keep the National Guard firmly under control. I'm not saying 'strike the Duke of Orléans' or anything like that."
"Just in case? Finance Minister?"
"Soon, a set of strong reforms will pass through the Assembly. There will definitely be unrest in the wake of it, and to respond proactively to such matters, you must hold your position firmly, Commander."
"…If it's a reform that could cause unrest, what is it?"
"The seizure of Church property."
"…That would cause it, yes, Finance Minister. But it would be difficult without the royal family's consent."
"It's already been discussed with His Majesty and Her Majesty the Queen."
"Huh. Impressive. How…"
At that moment, someone knocked on the door.
Commander Lafayette flinched, then barked loudly,
"Who is it!?"
The person outside answered,
"I came because Finance Minister Guillaume summoned me."
Now Lafayette looked at me and asked,
"Is that true?"
"Yes. It's fine. You can let him in."
Lafayette opened the door, and the person outside entered.
A man in priestly robes, with a blunt, expressionless face, around thirty, sat and clasped his hands in a gesture of prayer.
"Don't worry, Commander. He's on our revolutionary side."
"Greetings, Commander Lafayette. I am Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand, Bishop of Autun. Her Majesty the Queen sent me."
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