Chapter XXI: A Prince of Unseen Depths

"The key to this affair lies with the Princess Wilhelmina," Joseph said calmly, as if already contemplating several moves ahead. "So long as the Patriots can hold firm a while longer, and we discreetly make use of Her Highness's position while mobilising troops along our Prussian frontier, I believe Berlin will think twice before further action."

He offered a respectful nod to the Queen. "As for the particulars, I shall prepare a memorandum for the Minister of War, the Marquis de Saint-Priest."

Queen Mary inclined her head in approval. "Very well. I shall reserve judgment on continued support until the Minister has reviewed your proposal."

It was at this juncture that Louis XVI, who had remained largely silent, unexpectedly spoke. "There is no need for the treasury to be burdened further," he declared, his voice gentle but resolute. "I shall personally contribute six hundred thousand livres to support the Dutch cause."

The statement drew startled expressions from several ministers. Louis offered Joseph a rare smile of encouragement, and in that moment, even Archbishop Brienne looked momentarily relieved.

Bowing with gratitude, Brienne said, "Your Majesty, this act of generosity shall bring great relief to the treasury. With this, we may suspend state contributions to the Patriot cause for now, and reevaluate the situation in two months' time."

He turned toward Queen Mary. "Your Majesty, would this arrangement be satisfactory to you?"

She nodded. "Let it be done."

Thus the matter was settled. Joseph, for his part, noted with approval that the King—though oft derided for his preoccupation with locksmithing and reticence—had, in this instance, rendered timely and pragmatic support. It also spared Joseph from further contestation.

Thereafter, the business of the Cabinet proceeded with relative calm. Budgetary cutbacks were passed with fewer objections, and the ministers, sensing the Crown Prince's growing influence, began to tread more carefully.

As the final documents were signed, Queen Mary, without raising her eyes, inquired, "Archbishop Brienne, I understand there are delays with the tax legislation."

She referred, of course, to the long-debated fiscal reform—the crown's effort to rectify the financial collapse through a sweeping law that would tax noble landholdings, liberalise the grain trade, abolish the corvée, and adjust the stamp duty.

While sensible, the proposal was stalled by the Parlement—chiefly by the aristocracy, who had no interest in paying taxes equal to those of the common people.

Brienne lowered his gaze. "Your Majesty, the High Court continues to obstruct progress. My sources suggest the Parlement will soon refuse to register the bill."

This was no surprise. The judiciary, firmly in noble hands, had long defied the reforms. Without their registration and the King's assent, no law could be made binding.

The Queen sighed. "The state's coffers run dry. This legislation must pass."

"I shall exhaust every measure at my disposal," Brienne said solemnly.

Joseph, seated beside his mother, listened with a faint tightening of his brow. He knew well how history had played out. In a bid to force the bill through, Louis XVI would one day exile the High Court judges, replacing them with a pliant tribunal—but this provoked public outcry, allowed the aristocracy to paint the monarchy as tyrannical, and ultimately collapsed all royal authority.

It was, in hindsight, the crown's fatal miscalculation.

To reform taxation, Joseph mused, we must first remind the nobility of the monarchy's power—and ensure control over public sentiment. So long as the nobles dominate the narrative, they will turn the people against their own salvation.

He exhaled softly. No matter. I have taken my place at the Minister's side. The first piece is on the board. Now the game begins.

Queen Mary's voice broke his thoughts: "That shall conclude the meeting."

As the ministers rose and offered their final courtesies, Joseph prepared to depart—until the Queen called after him, "Joseph, remain a moment."

He turned back as the chamber cleared.

When they were alone, Queen Mary regarded him with quiet pride. "You've done well. The Saint Antoine District is now the safest quarter in Paris."

Then her voice softened, edged with concern. "But this reform must be brought to a close."

Joseph was puzzled. "Why?"

"Because the cost is too great. The city cannot afford to maintain such a force. You used your own funds, yes, but City Hall cannot sustain this burden. Let the people protect themselves through local patrols, as before."

Joseph did not hesitate. "Public security is the bedrock of governance. Not only should this reform continue—it ought to be expanded across the entire city, even the nation.

"As for funding… now that I serve in the Finance Ministry, I intend to resolve that as well."

The Queen's eyes narrowed, half sceptical, half intrigued. "And how do you propose to fund it?"

Joseph hesitated, then replied carefully. "Finance. Real estate. Luxury goods. Ventures of the sort that return swiftly. I cannot yet speak of all details, but I have confidence."

Queen Mary considered this in silence, then replied, "Very well. I shall grant you six months. If, by then, you have found a sustainable means of funding this force, the reform shall continue. If not, the matter will be ended."

Joseph nodded without hesitation. "I do not believe it will take so long."

At that moment, Louis XVI checked his pocket watch and spoke for the first time in some while. "It is nearly midday. No duty should interfere with lunch."

With this royal declaration, the Queen smiled, and the three departed for the dining salon.

As they passed beneath painted ceilings and crystal chandeliers, Joseph turned to ask, "Mother, have you settled on a new Director of Paris Police?"

"The position? Speak to Count Mono. That lies within his purview."

"Ah," Joseph replied, "but I believe he would be amenable to my recommendation."

The Queen glanced sideways at him. "Are you pressuring him over the Gizo affair?"

"Certainly not," Joseph answered smoothly. "I am simply offering him the chance to sleep well at night."

Queen Mary paused, then shook her head with a quiet smile.

She did not say it aloud—but the thought came nonetheless:

This boy of mine… is no boy at all. He is becoming something else entirely.