An hour later, a pitch-dark carriage emerged from the back gate of Mono's villa, now laden with a large stack of fabrics on the roof.
The carriage made a few more rounds in the city before returning to the Royal Palace after 10 PM.
Covered head to toe in a black hood like a servant, the Duke of Orleans unloaded the fabrics from the carriage and carried them into the warehouse, his head bowed. Only when there was no one around except his personal guard did he carefully make his way back to his bedroom.
In his study, he recalled the complete set of strategies that Mono had told him earlier. He first took out pen and paper and wrote a secret letter to the Paris Municipal Commissioner Levebelle, as well as the Governor of Montpellier, Palmentier, sealing each one with his private seal and wax.
Then, he pulled out another piece of paper and, deep in thought, began writing down a list of names: the Duke of Seville, Count Seyrelier, the Duke of Durelph, the Duke of Mushi...
Those familiar with the circles of the nobility would immediately realize that all these men were the heavyweights from the "has-been" political power of the Assembly of Notables.
Although they had been defeated in the last incident involving the Royal Family's tax reform, as top-tier nobility, they still possessed a force that could not be overlooked.
Moreover, the people on this list shared another trait, which was what Mono had mentioned: they were among those most affected by the "Millers' Rights Act" and the immigration to Tunisia that had caused a decline in land prices.
Having finished writing the list, the Duke of Orleans checked the names repeatedly before handing both the list and the secret letters to the butler Donnadieu, giving him careful instructions.
...
Two days later, southwest Paris.
In a sprawling greyhound racing track adjacent to the south bank of the Seine River, the competition was in full swing. With dogs barking resonantly, dust filling the air, over a dozen sleek greyhounds raced like the wind towards the finish line.
The stands all around were filled with prominent nobles—attendance here was not open to just anyone with an invitation.
And in the VIP room in the center of the second floor of the western stands, more than twenty people were crowded together, all looking coolly at the race, appearing quite uninterested.
After a while, a gaunt man wearing a gemstone-blue coat with a cold gaze entered the VIP room, opening its door and striding in.
As the people in the room turned to see him, they immediately rose to greet him:
"You've finally arrived, Your Grace, the Duke of Orleans."
"Ah, Philippe, my old friend, what's the urgent matter that you have called us here for?"
"Your Grace, why not just go directly to the Royal Palace? This noisy place gives me a headache..."
The Duke of Orleans handed his hat to a slightly younger nobleman beside him, smiling and nodding to the others in greeting:
"The Royal Palace is watched too closely and is no longer suitable for meetings. Here, however, we can speak freely."
He had many informants among his subordinates. Political defeats over the past year had made him suspicious, so he had his residence thoroughly checked and indeed discovered that the Royal Palace was under intense surveillance.
Naturally, these were the agents from Joseph's Police Affairs Department. How could they not keep a close eye on a menace like the Duke of Orleans?
However, as an experienced conspirator, the Duke of Orleans had his own countermeasures. For example, in today's dog racing track, nearly a hundred nobles with status had attended, but only a few were his intended meeting targets. Agents from the Police Affairs Department who lacked invitations could not infiltrate the event.
Thus, no one could know whom he had actually met. To all appearances, he merely came to bet on the dogs.
The Duke of Orleans took the chair in the centre, but instead of discussing any "serious business," he casually addressed Count Seyrelier: "Bruzzar, it's quite unfortunate to hear you've recently lost the taxes from seven or eight mills."
The other man, caught off guard and not understanding the purpose of the remark, was visibly angered: "It's that damned law! The mill tax is our traditional right, established over a thousand years, and no one has the right to take it away!"
"Oh, but His Majesty the King did just that."
The Duke of Orleans remarked sarcastically before turning to an older man beside him: "Duke of Durelph, the land value has been weak lately; you must have lost a considerable amount, haven't you?"
"Roughly five or six hundred thousand livres."
This Duke of Durelph, owning thousands of acres of land, was greatly affected by the decline in land prices.
The plight of these two men stirred a sense of commiseration in everyone in the VIP room, prompting a chorus of complaints about their own losses.
The Duke of Orleans then raised his hand to call for silence, his expression turning serious as he spoke in a low voice: "Haven't you all noticed? The Royal Family is abandoning us!
"Let's not forget the tax bill from the beginning of the year, eh? Our authority over the High Court was ruthlessly stripped away, and now we have to pay tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands more in land taxes each year.
"Paying the same taxes as those commoners—it's a humiliation from the Royal Family to us!"
The surrounding nobility immediately nodded in agreement, "It is a betrayal of tradition and honor!"
"Exactly, the Royal Family has gone too far!"
"See, they will surely impose even more taxes on us in the future."
Pleased with the reaction, the Duke of Orleans continued: "We should all see it now, those involved in textiles and paper-making, those upstarts, are the new favorites of the Royal Family! We, on the other hand, will be discarded like old boots in the trash heap.
"Those new factories will draw the farmers into the cities, and one day, your tenants will all run away, leaving your lands untended, and you will not be able to collect even a penny in dues!"
The highly respected Duke of Mushi in the Assembly of Notables finally spoke up, "Duke of Orleans, you have said so much, do you have any plans?"
Seeing that everyone was looking at him with eager anticipation, the Duke of Orleans clenched his fist resolutely and said, "We must put some pressure on the Royal Family to make His Majesty understand that he must respect the traditional system and must respect the nobles!"
He lowered his voice, "There's a good opportunity right now to teach the Royal Family a lesson. I hope you all can unite, to fight for our own rights!
"You know, since the onset of winter, there has been a severe food shortage across the country, we can just do this, and then do that..."
When he finished speaking, the people in the reception room looked at each other in consternation. A nobleman, somewhat hesitant, said, "Is this feasible? I mean, with the tax legislation that time, we..."
"Rest assured," the Duke of Orleans said, "there are other forces who will cooperate with us this time, and you'll see it very soon. Moreover, you don't need to invest anything, just return to your estates. Even if it doesn't work out in the end, there will be no losses."
The Duke of Durelph was the first to stand up, paying his respects to the Duke of Orleans: "I will firmly stand by your side."
Then a few more people expressed their agreement until the Duke of Mushi slowly nodded his head, "To uphold our tradition and honor, it is necessary."
The other great nobles immediately responded in tandem, "Yes! For tradition and honor."
"We must make the Royal Family understand some things!"
"Duke of Orleans, I will follow your lead..."
The reception room was instantly united in resolve.
...
At the Petit Trianon Palace, Queen Mary handed a denunciation letter to Chief Minister Brian with a furious face, "Look at this, Marquis de Saint-Veran is eroding the foundations of the nation!"
Startled, Brian opened the letter to see that it was an accusation of Marquis de Saint-Veran embezzling money by overinflating the number of soldiers on record, and the soldiers, due to poor provisions, could hardly maintain normal training, along with him purchasing old weapons and passing them off as new, skimming a huge difference from the top.𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦
The signature at the end was that of Garon Guiscard de Revell, the Paris Municipal Commissioner.
Brian hesitantly said, "Your Majesty, there might be some misunderstanding here, should we send someone to investigate further?"
"I was wondering why his actions were so slow when he sent troops to North Africa; it turns out that his troops are short of both men and proper training!" Queen Mary, eager to find a reason to deal with the Marquis de Saint-Veran, was not willing to let it go, "How can such an incompetent officer command an army of tens of thousands?
"I think he must be severely punished to remember his duties!"
Brian, knowing that Marquis de Saint-Veran came from a highly influential military family in the south, knew it was not appropriate to act rashly against him and advised in haste, "Your Majesty, after all, this is only one side of the story from Viscount Levebelle..."
He had only got that far when the queen's maid knocked and entered, handing her a letter sealed with wax, "Your Majesty, just received from Montpellier."
Queen Mary frowned as she broke the seal and glanced at the letter, then a cold smirk formed at the corner of her mouth as she shoved the letter at Brian, "See for yourself."
In a flurry, the latter turned the letter upright, only to find it was an exposé from the Governor of Montpellier revealing a series of corrupt practices by the Marquis de Saint-Veran. It was likely more detailed since Montpellier was stationed by the Saint-Veran Legion.
"This, well, Your Majesty..."
Queen Mary, with a stern face, interrupted him with a wave, "Archbishop Brienne, please draft an order immediately, reprimanding Marquis de Saint-Veran for embezzlement, disregarding military discipline, and neglecting his duty. Command him to reorganize his legion with the actual number of soldiers, return the embezzled money, and deduct half a year's annuity from him!"
At that time, a major part of the funding for France's old-style military came directly from the military commanders embezzling the Military Service Tax of their garrisons. The court also gave high-ranking officers a large annuity to help support their troops.
However, the phenomenon of ghost soldiers in the French Army was extremely severe, with some units having more than a third of non-existent soldiers on the roster, let alone the annuity, most of the Military Service Tax also went into the pockets of the military nobility. As for the soldiers' pay, they received it directly from the officers, almost forming a personal dependency on the officers.
````
Now that Queen Mary desires to reduce the size of Marquis de Saint-Veran's legion, the amount allocated to him from the Military Service Tax will be greatly diminished. Together with the penalized pension, it's practically like cutting into his flesh with a knife.
Brian wanted to advise further, but Queen Mary was infuriated, utterly unmoved. Just past noon, an order signed by Louis XVI had already been dispatched to the province of Montpellier.
The Queen, resolved to go all the way, issued another order directly, scolding the Minister of War, Marquis de Saint Priest, for his severe misjudgment in personnel appointments. She demanded that he deeply reflect and personally oversee the enforcement of Marquis de Saint-Veran's punishment.
Brian knew well that the military nobility had always been a united front, with embezzlement and corruption being almost an open secret, yet from the King to the civil servants, no one dared to interfere.
Yet with the issuing of these two orders today, the Queen had effectively stirred up a hornet's nest.
He paced anxiously back and forth in his office, but couldn't come up with a plan for a good while. In the end, he had no choice but to instruct his servants to prepare a carriage, and he went to the Tuileries Palace to consult the Crown Prince.
...
Discover hidden stories at empire
City of Nice.
Two officials responsible for the grain reserves watched the departing caravan of wagons, whispering complaints: "What are those bigwigs at the Palace of Versailles thinking, mobilizing such a huge transport capacity to move grain to Montpellier, and then to bring in grain from Grenoble to replenish us."
"Ha, who knows? As long as we account for the quantities correctly, that's what matters."
The transport team was operating with documents signed by the Minister of the Interior himself. Could there be any issue?
"Don't let there be any delays from Grenoble's side. Our inventory is down to less than thirty thousand pounds. If they're even just a few days late, there'll be no bread for sale in the city."
Meanwhile, the grain reserves of Grenoble had also dispatched a large quantity of grain, but their destination remained Montpellier. The documents on their side indicated that grain from Nice was expected to replenish their supply in a few days.
Indeed, over the past half-month, grain stores across the entire southern region of France had received orders from the Department of the Interior to undertake large-scale grain reallocation.
However, no one felt anything was amiss, as shortages had been frequent over the past six months, with many emergency grain distributions occurring. Although the quantities moved this time were substantial, based on past experience, it was expected that other areas would soon replenish the stocks, so there was no need for concern.
...
East-Central France.
On the King's Avenue in the south of Auvergne, Marquis de Saint-Veran sat in his speeding carriage, gazing towards Paris hundreds of miles away, a fierce smile on his face.
"Austrian wench, all the humiliation will be returned to you a hundredfold! I will let you know that without the military, the Royal Family is but a shivering mouse in the cold wind!"
He looked at the letter in his hand for the tenth time. It was from his nephew, who was also a major general in the Moncalm Legion, reporting that the legion was fully prepared and could be deployed for combat at any moment. Also, it mentioned the emerging grain shortages in multiple locations around Montpellier.
Marquis de Saint-Veran, indulging in thoughts of revenge, couldn't help but recall a secret meeting held more than ten days ago at the private hunting ground of the Duke of Orleans.
At that time, he was still tormented by rage and humiliation, causing his shooting performance to be abysmally poor.
"Damn that Austrian wench! She is utterly humiliating me!" he bellowed through clenched teeth after missing a stag.
Marquis de Saint Priest, standing by his side and also Minister of War, had a dark expression on his face: "It's not just you. She wants to humiliate the entire military."
A somewhat portly officer, upon hearing this, frowned and said, "But why would she want to do that? Offending the military is of no benefit to the Royal Family."
Duke of Orleans moved his horse forward two steps, gazed into the distance at the prey, and declared loudly, "Because she simply doesn't care about you."