Chapter 110: Declaration of War (4) March 1791.
Kingdom of Prussia.
Sanssouci Palace, Berlin–Potsdam.
"...Declare war on France in exchange for partitioning Poland? Did I hear that correctly just now, Chancellor?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. That is correct."
"Hmm..."
King of Prussia, Friedrich Wilhelm II, let out a low groan at the chancellor's words and leaned deeply back into his chair. As a result, his already plump chin folded into two.
"And Britain would make such a proposal to us, Prussia?"
"According to what the Russians have conveyed, Britain intends to remain neutral in this matter."
"So the nation that has worn out its tongue proclaiming itself 'the mediator of Europe' will simply close its eyes while Poland is carved apart?"
"It would seem they believe they cannot afford to lose Russia—a great friendly power—over the matter of a single Poland."
"Tsk. Those British... you must admit, their insides are pitch-black."
Friedrich Wilhelm II clicked his tongue.
Yet inwardly, he began carefully weighing every aspect of the Russians' proposal.
The word Poland carried that much value.
"Chancellor."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"How long has it been since I ascended the throne?"
"This year marks the fifth year, Your Majesty."
"Five years..."
The king fell silent for a moment before speaking again.
"Do they still honor the late king in the city today?"
"Pardon? Ah. Yes, they do."
The chancellor nodded, as if wondering why such an obvious question needed asking.
"...I see. Of course they do. I asked something unnecessary."
The king inclined his head at the chancellor's reaction.
Prussia—the nation of the army, the nation of soldiers, the nation of conquest.
True to that reputation, the Prussian people had enjoyed boundless glory of conquest and subjugation under the late King Frederick the Great.
Even five years later, the Prussians still longed for the deceased monarch, and it was not difficult to find subjects disappointed that he failed to display the same charisma as his predecessor.
"Poland, Poland..."
The king murmured softly.
The former king, the immortal sovereign who would forever remain in the hearts of the Prussian people—Frederick the Great—had long coveted that land, Poland.
Of course, calling it "ancestral land" was a stretch—it had never once belonged to Prussia. But what did that matter? What mattered was that it was a fertile land flowing with milk and honey.
And if he were to complete the conquest of Poland—
If he were to achieve what even the superhuman late King Frederick the Great had failed to accomplish—
Then the Prussian people would offer him limitless loyalty and reverence.
His heart pounded rapidly, pumping blood through his body.
Friedrich Wilhelm II looked again at the chancellor and spoke.
"Chancellor, summon General Möllendorf, head of the Supreme War College, and the Duke of Brunswick. We must hear the soldiers' opinions before we can determine our course."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
March 25, 1791.
Kingdom of France, Paris.
France was in a most peculiar state.
Something like a third form—neither kingdom nor republic.
Ordinarily, with the death of Orléans, Louis-Philippe d'Orléans III—that is, the Crown Prince—should have ascended the throne.
But Orléans had not merely made a small mess; he had left behind a mountain of filth. There was no way the Crown Prince could have ascended smoothly. If he had, that would have been stranger still.
With the Crown Prince's accession blocked, there was naturally no king. Yet state affairs could not simply be abandoned, so the National Assembly temporarily assumed executive authority and continued governing.
And I—
"...Next."
I stamped the final page—page 113—of Burgundy Province's second-half 1791 budget plan with a heavy thud and spoke.
"The next person may come in."
As soon as the Ministry of Finance clerk called out beyond the door, a man in a neatly tailored suit, smiling broadly, entered as though he had been waiting for this moment.
"Good day, Finance Minister! I'm from the Royal Academy. This is our next quarter's budget proposal. If you could read it over and stamp it, we would be grateful!"
"...You certainly have more energy than some. Hand it here."
"Yes, Your Excellency! Here it is."
Damn, it's thick.
"How many pages is this?"
"Yes! A total of 513 pages!"
My vision swam. I closed my eyes.
All numbers and text. Tiny letters that assaulted my optic nerves in real time. Reports were supposed to be in Hamchorom Dotum, 12-point font, 160% line spacing—that was the universal rule. And yet these heretics were committing an act of terror against my eyes.
Still. It was the Royal Academy, after all. Surely intelligent people worked there. Perhaps they would have considered the reader's eyesight.
"The Royal Academy—so this is about inventions?"
"Yes! That's correct, Your Excellency!"
"...Then there must be blueprints or illustrations, right?"
I looked at the man with a sliver of hope. Damn it. I never thought I'd grow up to prefer books with lots of pictures again.
"No! Everything is written out in detailed text and numbers!"
"..."
With that single sentence, the hopeful world I had just glimpsed collapsed.
Fine. I had to open it anyway.
"Ah, damn it."
I swallowed the curse rising to my throat.
"...Sir. Can you actually see this?"
"Pardon? But did you not instruct us to reduce raw material consumption and be mindful of tax waste?"
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't write it in a way the human eye can read. How am I supposed to see this? I'm not Mongolian. Take it back and redo it."
"Y-Yes... understood, Your Excellency."
The dejected man left. I turned to the Ministry clerk.
"That was the last one, right?"
"No. Chairman Mirabeau said he would be visiting today. He should arrive shortly..."
"I'm going insane."
Click.
The door opened, and Chairman Mirabeau entered my office.
"Minister, have you been well?"
"Do you not see the dark circles under my eyes?"
"Why so aggressive? Here—this is the speech you'll be delivering today. Deputy Talleyrand and Deputy Sieyès wrote it together."
"Why is it always me?"
"Why? Because what the French people want isn't a fat man like me, Gabriel Riqueti Mirabeau. They want you—the young and handsome Minister Guillaume."
Mirabeau looked at me as if he were saying the most obvious thing in the world.
"There are limits to this. Does it make sense for me to deliver every government announcement? I'm not even a deputy of the National Assembly. I'm the Finance Minister, Finance Minister! Why am I doing deputies' work too? Do you know this violates labor law?"
Excuse me, boss. I signed on as Finance Minister, not as a legislator. Why are you asking accounting to handle marketing?
Trying to squeeze every drop out of an employee by piling on tasks outside the contract—this is practically a black company.
Despite my twisting protest, Mirabeau forced the script into my hands.
"What strange law is this 'labor law'? Off to the square with you. At this rate, you'll be late for the speech of Guillaume, the famous landmark of Paris, as selected by Forbes."
"...If Sade writes one more thing, I'll cut him in half."
"Suppressing journalists over an article would violate press law."
"..."
"Wasn't that a law you submitted? That magazines must not be arbitrarily suppressed. Surely the lawmaker himself won't break his own law? Off to the square, Paris's landmark."
"Yes, yes. I'm going."
Damn it. A law I made to protect my precious magazine from future power now tightening around my own neck.
I had no choice but to pout and put on my coat.
Paris.
Champ de Mars.
"Guillaume! Guillaume! Guillaume!"
Thousands chanting my name. I would never get used to this. How do celebrities stay so calm?
"Good evening, citizens of France. I am Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon. I trust you have all enjoyed your dinner."
"Yes!"
"Tsk. If you had enjoyed it with Ears of the Nation convenience meals, it would have tasted even better. That is somewhat regrettable."
"Boo!"
"A joke, a joke. You people pounce at the slightest tease. If you keep that up, I'll speak stiffly and leave."
"Boo!!!"
"You're a difficult crowd."
Good. They were smiling. Today as well, Clown Guillaume's banter had succeeded.
I cleared my throat and began reading.
"Today, the National Assembly at Versailles, I, Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon, and the National Guard responsible for the safety of the people solemnly declare to all the French people their happiness and rights."
"We declare the rights that all possess—granted by nature, inalienable, sacred."
"We declare that all members of French society, by this declaration, shall remember their rights and duties, and shall ensure that legislative, executive, and judicial powers stand firm before all political aims and dangers."
"To ensure that citizens' demands are clearly and simply realized, we declare that we shall contribute to the maintenance of the Constitution and the happiness of all."
"The National Assembly, before the Supreme Being and under His protection, approves and declares the following rights of man and citizen."
I continued reading.
Human beings are equal and free. Social distinctions may exist only if they do not harm the public good.
All political associations are to be respected.
Liberty, property, security, and resistance to oppression are to be respected.
No body or individual may usurp another's sovereignty.
All citizens have the right to elect representatives or to become representatives themselves. Only virtue, intelligence, and talent are required—status is not.
No one may be arrested or detained except according to the Constitution.
No law may impose punishment unless it has been promulgated to the entire nation in advance and duly enacted.
Until formally sentenced by a court, all defendants are presumed innocent.
All persons enjoy freedom of religion so long as public safety is not threatened.
The National Guard and police are established for the rights of the people, not to serve specific individuals.
For the public good, taxation is indispensable. But taxes shall be levied equally and fairly upon all.
All citizens may question the necessity of taxation and may object personally or through representatives.
Citizens may demand information and reports from public officials regarding their administration.
If separation of powers is not maintained, there is no reason to submit to any constitution.
Property is sacred. No one may dare infringe upon an individual's ownership.
March 25, 1791.
Once more, people became human.
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