Chapter XIX: The Crown Prince Enters the Treasury

No sooner had the Cabinet Ministers offered their praises for Joseph's achievements than the golden doors to the council chamber were opened, and the voice of the Master of Ceremonies resounded:

"Their Majesties the King and Queen."

A ripple of surprise passed through the assembled ministers—His Majesty rarely attended these proceedings. At once, all rose from their seats, hands over their hearts, bowing low as Louis XVI and Queen Mary entered, their steps stately, their expressions warm with pride.

Louis, more at ease among familiar faces, smiled faintly. "You all work so diligently. What were you just discussing?"

Count Mono was quick to respond, "Sire, we were just extolling the Crown Prince's excellent management of the police reorganization in Paris. His results have surpassed all expectation."

The King and Queen took their seats at the head of the long table, and the Queen, barely concealing her maternal delight, began once more recounting Joseph's recent triumphs—his quelling of unrest in the Saint Antoine District, his foresight in reform, and his deft handling of the public.

Count Mono, seeing the moment ripen, gave Joseph an affirming glance and cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, you once remarked that if His Highness were to prove himself in municipal affairs, he might be granted a formal post within the financial administration. The matter now seems most timely."

Queen Mary nodded gently, clearly in agreement.

Yet not all present were eager to support the motion. Justice Minister Somiare, seated not far from the Duke of Orléans, muttered just audibly, "Her Majesty spoke only of allowing the Crown Prince to become familiar with the work of finance…"

The words, though softly spoken, were plainly heard by more than a few.

Queen Mary's gaze swept the table with the sharpness of tempered glass. "Archbishop Brienne," she said, turning to the Finance Minister, "what is your view?"

Count Mono had previously secured Brienne's support, and the elderly Archbishop—round-faced and serene—rose without hesitation.

"Your Majesty, I am of the opinion that His Highness is both fit and worthy to assume the duties of assistant to the Finance Minister."

A murmur of assent followed.

Yet Brienne, cautious and ever mindful of precedent, added with measured tone, "However, given the delicate nature of state finance and the Crown Prince's inexperience in this domain, I would request that all policy decisions remain under my final authority, and that no financial matter be undertaken without my express approval."

Joseph forced a smile, amused by the old man's transparent desire to preserve his own control. Still, it was understandable. With France's treasury already faltering, the presence of a young, ambitious royal could well unsettle seasoned ministers.

Before Joseph could reply, the Duke of Orléans—who had until now remained quiet—rose from his seat.

"Your Grace," he said to Brienne, "as you yourself know, the assistant to the Finance Minister is not charged with drafting policy, but with overseeing routine affairs—chiefly the management of loans, debt payments, and the collation of tax law. These are technical matters. Might it not be prudent for Your Grace to reserve your energies for more pressing work, such as advancing the new tax reforms?"

The room fell silent. Many turned toward the Duke in astonishment. Just weeks ago, he had nearly crossed swords with the Crown Prince in this very chamber. And now, he spoke in Joseph's defense?

Queen Mary glanced toward Archbishop Brienne, her voice carefully neutral. "Tell me, Archbishop, what duties currently fall under the assistant to the Finance Minister?"

Brienne adjusted his spectacles. "The assistant is tasked with negotiating loans, managing state debt, and consulting with legal clerks on taxation codices."

The Queen exchanged a look with Louis XVI, who gave a passive nod of assent. "Very well," she said. "Let the Crown Prince take up these duties. All additional matters shall remain under Archbishop Brienne's discretion."

She turned to the Chief Clerk. "Have the Count of Barongden prepare the appointment papers. The Crown Prince shall henceforth serve as Assistant to the Minister of Finance."

Joseph bowed deeply in acceptance. Around the table, ministers offered murmurs of approval. Yet one pair of eyes, cold and calculating, watched from across the table.

The Duke of Orléans kept a polite expression, but beneath it lay satisfaction. Let the boy enter the den of lions, he thought. The Ministry is riddled with debts—six million livres come due next month. And with banking houses set to close their purses… the timing could not be better.

He imagined the headlines: The Crown Prince's Misjudgment Triggers a Fiscal Crisis.

Queen Mary offered her son a few words of maternal encouragement, then gestured toward the Archbishop. "Please, let us begin with the matters on today's agenda."

Brienne opened a folio, adjusted his lenses once more, and addressed the council. "After careful examination of this year's expenditures, it is my recommendation that all departments reduce spending for the next fiscal half."

The Queen inclined her head. "I have read the report and agree. To set an example, the Royal Household shall reduce its annual budget by one million livres."

Brienne bowed his thanks. "Your Majesty's sacrifice shall not be in vain. I would further suggest the Navy suspend the construction of one battleship and two second-rates, which will save the treasury 1.35 million livres."

The Navy Minister, the Marquis de Castries, sprang to his feet in protest.

"This cannot be permitted!" he cried. "The British Navy has already outpaced our own. Without new vessels, we risk losing our trade routes and coastal defense. We cannot simply disarm in the face of Albion!"

Queen Mary raised a hand for calm. "We welcome discussion. What say the rest of the Council?"

Most ministers, anxious to preserve their own departments from cuts, offered little resistance. They quietly agreed that the Navy could afford the sacrifice.

The Marquis, exasperated, turned to the one man he believed would share his concerns.

"Your Highness, surely you see the danger here. To reduce the Navy's fleet further would leave France exposed. You, who fought to protect the streets of Paris—can you condone such vulnerability?"

Joseph rose slowly, placing his hand on the table. "No," he said. "I cannot condone reducing the battleships."

The Marquis exhaled in relief.

But Joseph continued. "I believe all current battleship construction should be suspended."

The room fell deathly silent.

The Marquis stared in stunned disbelief.

Joseph looked calmly at the assembled ministers. "We are not the Britain of today, nor the Spain of yesteryear. If we continue to throw our scarce funds into fleets we cannot afford to maintain, we shall collapse under our own ambition.

"Let us instead repair what we have, refit what may be salvaged, and focus our capital where it is most urgent: debt, domestic growth, and fiscal credibility."

There was no immediate response. But slowly, murmurs of assent began to ripple around the table.

The Queen watched her son with new eyes, while the Duke of Orléans' smug smile faltered ever so slightly.

And Archbishop Brienne nodded—not without reluctance—but with a measure of respect.