Chapter 2: The Favored Son of God

"No, no need to continue!" Lagrange grabbed Joseph's shoulders firmly and said excitedly, "This groundbreaking derivation is enough to prove your ability. I'll head back to the university today to apply for your academic certification documents."

"Thank you very much for that!" Joseph was overjoyed. He broke free from the old mathematician's hands, bowed to him, and rushed out the door.

Lagrange had intended to give a heartfelt speech but found that the young prince had already darted away.

He paused for a moment, hurriedly chased after him, and called out, "How did Your Highness think of applying it to differentiable functions? Tell me about your approach!"

The boys in the classroom exchanged confused glances. After a while, one hesitated and said, "Can anyone tell me, has the Crown Prince just graduated?"

"It seems that way."

"But he only came here today…"

The boy with slanted eyes glared at Joseph's retreating figure and spat bitterly, "No, he must have cheated!"

Andrei gave him an unseen sideways glance, then placed Lagrange's problem in front of him and said, "The problem was issued by the professor on the spot. The prince's proof is an entirely new mathematical discovery. Duke of Chartres, if you think cheating could achieve such a feat, feel free to try it yourself."

The Duke of Chartres stared at the incomprehensible formulas as if struck by lightning. He had always considered himself the brightest of the younger generation of the royal family, yet now he couldn't even understand the proof process written by someone else...

*Could Joseph's previous displays of incompetence have all been an act, just to make me look foolish?*

He clenched his fists tightly and thought: *Joseph, just you wait. Someday I'll make you grovel at my feet!*

Joseph, naturally, couldn't hear their conversation; even if he did, he wouldn't care. *They were just children bickering.* Right now, his thoughts were consumed with the fact that he could finally participate in political affairs. *How should I go about reforming France to avoid the outbreak of the Revolution and prevent myself from losing my head?*

Lagrange chased after him breathlessly, pestering him with questions for quite some time. Suddenly, he seemed to grasp something from the prince's proof and muttered to himself, "What if f(a) doesn't equal f(b)…"

He murmured again a few times, his expression becoming serious. Hastily bidding farewell to Joseph, he rushed directly back to his office at the university.

Joseph watched him walk away and murmured softly, "If f(a)≠f(b), then that would be your Lagrange Mean Value Theorem. Good luck—I hope you can prove it a few years early."

Once the old mathematician's silhouette disappeared, Joseph waved to the attendant who had been following him closely. "Eman, where is the Queen now?"

The tall, blonde young man hurriedly bent and replied, "Your Highness, the Queen is in her tea room."

Joseph gave him a nod, turned, and sprinted toward the broad corridor's end. The exertion triggered a fit of coughing, abruptly reminding him of his lingering pneumonia—his original body's constitution was pitifully weak, and the pneumonia had persisted for over a month without signs of recovery.

He gestured to Eman, who approached out of concern, signaling that he was fine. After winding through more than a hundred meters of corridors, he finally saw the tea room doors.

*From today onward, I can finally make my mark and begin saving myself!* He took a deep breath, pushed open the doors, and strode in between the guards stationed by either side.

The tea room was warm and elegant in its decor. Seated on an Eastern-style armchair, her elaborate hair towering in tiers and her porcelain-white skin gleaming under the light, Queen Mary held a document in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. She listened attentively to the minister beside her, evidently handling affairs of state—since Louis XVI spent all his time tinkering in the locksmith workshop, management of governance often fell to the Queen.

*Louis XVI was, in fact, one of the rare benevolent monarchs in French history,* Joseph reflected inwardly, *but the France he inherited was riddled with crises. Coupled with his lack of aptitude for ruling, his obsession with locksmithing ultimately led to public suffering and the eruption of the Revolution.*

*In a time of peace, the Sixteenth would likely have been a beloved king. Truthfully, I have a favorable impression of him and would want to save his life if possible.*

Nearby, the voice of the ceremonial officer rang out: "The Crown Prince has arrived—"

Following courtly etiquette, Joseph stepped back with his right foot, placed his hand over his chest, and bowed to Queen Mary. He then exchanged greetings with the ministers in the room before proceeding forward excitedly toward the Queen. "Mother, I've passed the university mathematics graduation assessment!"

Queen Mary's eyes lit up. She set down the document and clasped his hand in joy. "Joseph, you truly are the pride of your father and me!"

She had previously sent someone to verify the prince's coursework, confirming that apart from mathematics, he had passed all subjects with excellent grades. In other words, he had now completed the University of Paris curriculum!

Her gaze turned complex as she looked at her son and asked, "Why did you hide your studies from your father and me? I mean, you could've completely learned from renowned masters."

Joseph had to fabricate an excuse to explain his sudden scholarly transformation, saying he had been self-studying in secret for years.

"Because…" Joseph hesitated before forcing out the words, "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, this surprise is astounding!" The Queen picked up a pudding with strawberries and stuffed it into his mouth before gently ruffling his slightly curly hair. "What kind of little brain stores so much knowledge?"

Nearby, a tall, thin man in a deep blue patterned doublet with a ruffled collar studded with blue gems frowned, his cold eyes narrowing. He whispered to the minister beside him, "Bishop Brienne, did the Crown Prince just claim he's completed university mathematics?"

The latter nodded. "It seems so."

"How is that possible?"

"I'm quite astonished myself."

Behind them, the Queen's trusted clerk chimed in softly, "It's not just mathematics—His Highness has completed studies in physics, chemistry, geometry, English, and over ten other subjects at the University of Paris."

The surrounding ministers widened their eyes in disbelief. "How is that possible?!"

"The Crown Prince is only thirteen years old, isn't he?!"

"This is simply unbelievable!"

"Indeed." The clerk sighed. "His former tutors gave him the moniker 'Son of Divine Favor.'"

"Son of Divine Favor? Haha, with such a brilliant heir, France is destined for glory!"

"Truly, divine blessings upon France!"

Joseph ignored the ministers' flattery. Breaking free from his mother's grasp, he asked eagerly, "Queen Mother, according to our agreement, may I now begin participating in governance?"

Queen Mary nodded affectionately. "Of course, my genius son. Oh, by the way, I suggest you start at Paris City Hall to gain some experience."

Joseph frowned. *My goal is to reform France, to prevent the furious populace from slaughtering the entire royal family!* What could he achieve at City Hall—traffic management? Wastewater treatment?

Having watched numerous documentaries on the French Revolution, he was keenly aware that the crux of France's current predicament lay in its finances. *The collapse of governance, the inability to provide disaster relief, and the rebelliousness of nobles—all stemmed from financial ruin.*

*Thus, to reform France, fiscal restructuring must come first!*

He looked at the Queen and tentatively said, "I believe the position of Finance Minister might suit me better."

Queen Mary responded with a gentle smile. France's financial woes were a chronic ailment. Since Louis XVI's ascension, nearly all efforts had been geared toward resolving the fiscal crisis, yet they had persistently failed.

How could a thirteen-year-old, even a "Son of Divine Favor," possibly shoulder such a burden?

Her smile faded as she pondered this. Finally, she said, "Joseph, if you're interested in finance, you might start at the Paris Tax Bureau."

Joseph understood this stemmed from disbelief in his abilities, which was only natural; his physical body was, after all, only thirteen years old. Forced to compromise, he replied, "Then allow me to serve as the Finance Minister's assistant?"

At this time, the role of assistant essentially equated to being the Deputy Finance Minister, the second-in-command in fiscal matters.