I Am the Crown Prince in France

At 9 o'clock in the morning, in the conference hall of the East Palace of Versailles, the cabinet meeting to decide the fate of France was reconvened.

Then, let's start the cabinet decision now. Queen Mary looked around at the people on both sides of the large conference table, Gentlemen, those who agree with Count Sumyar's proposal and believe that Archbishop Briand should resign immediately, please express your opinion.

The Duke of Orleans immediately showed a proud smile and slowly raised his right hand. He is absolutely sure of overthrowing Brian - yesterday he promised Nicoet a full three hundred thousand livres, a huge amount of money that will definitely make this transparent minister excited.

Sumial and Virzhin also raised their hands one after another.

There was silence in the hall for a moment.

The Duke of Orleans glanced at Nicoet and indicated with his eyes what he should do.

But there was no response.

The Duke of Orleans frowned, coughed dryly, and whispered: Ahem, Count Nicoet.

But Nicoet just looked intently at the queen sitting at the head of the conference table, as if he didn't hear anything.

Queen Mary looked around again and asked: Is there any more?

Seeing that Nicoet was still sitting like a stone sculpture, the Duke of Orleans finally understood that something was wrong, and immediately glared at the latter viciously, as if he wanted to pierce his chest with his eyes.

Queen Mary put her hands on the table, stood up, and said loudly: According to the cabinet resolution, Archbishop Brian will continue to serve as finance minister for the next two months.

She turned to Brian again and nodded: I hope you can bring us good news in two months. If not, please remember your promise.

The queen turned and left.

The Duke of Orleans turned around the conference table angrily and wanted to question the household registration minister sitting on the other side, but saw that the latter had walked out of the golden door without looking back, as if the two had never met last night.

He rushed out of the conference hall in a few steps, but did not chase Nicoet. Instead, he quickly walked out of the Palace of Versailles, jumped on his carriage, and gritted his teeth angrily: Nikoet, this damn betrayer!

As for you, Brian, you just wasted two more months. There is no way the bill will be passed!

…

Palais Royal.

Several huge crystal lamps illuminated the hall, which was more than 50 meters long.

In the oil painting on the wall, the old Duke of Orleans looked proudly at the middle-aged man on the wooden platform in front of him, as if listening to him report something to the regent.

We must do something! The middle-aged man wearing a curly white wig and his face covered with acne scars shouted, waving his hands vigorously, Everyone writes to His Majesty the King, asking Brian to step down immediately...

Dozens of nobles were standing or sitting in the hall, constantly echoing loudly:

Yes! Brian has betrayed everyone here, and he will be punished!

It is absolutely insulting that we should pay the same tax as those untouchables!

If anyone had attended the meeting of dignitaries at the beginning of the year, they would recognize that the people present were all members of the meeting of dignitaries, that is, the most influential nobles.

Beside the arched window on the west side, a man in his late forties with a big face and a double chin whispered to the person next to him: Such a party just happened more than ten days ago, why is it happening again?

The nobleman next to him said: Count Mirabeau, don't you know about the cabinet meeting two days ago?

I heard that Count Sumial initiated a motion to remove Archbishop Burian, but it failed.

The nobleman smiled and said: Although she failed to remove him, the queen asked him to get the tax bill registered within two months, otherwise he will be exiled to Corsica.

Mirabeau nodded slightly. Finance Minister Carlona had previously been exiled for promoting an unfavorable tax bill. If Brian failed again, it would be equivalent to announcing to all nobles that the High Court had the ability to control the power of the royal family.

He also smiled: This gathering will make us more united, and we will win in two months.

At this moment, in a room on the second floor, the Duke of Orleans glanced down at the bustling hall, turned around, raised his glass, and said with a smile: Look, everyone, everyone is on our side.

Several people in front of him also raised their glasses, and someone said: It is the duty of the High Court to correct the mistakes of the royal family.

I have seen that bill and it is full of absurdities. I believe that no judge will allow it to be registered.

That's right. But even if Archbishop Brian significantly changes the terms, we can't let the bill pass.

That's right, this time is simply a provocation to the High Court!

Orleans smiled and nodded, clinking glasses with several people enthusiastically.

These people are the most powerful judges of the High Court, and any bill that wants to be registered requires their nod.

With the promises of the judges and the support of the great nobles in the hall, no matter how capable Brian was, he would have to go to Corsica in two months.

Oh, by the way, I have prepared some surprises for everyone. The Duke of Orleans gestured to several closed doors on the side with a meaningful expression, I hope you like it.

The judges looked at each other and smiled knowingly.

They knew that this was a project for the Duke of Orleans to entertain distinguished guests. The ones in that room are not ordinary skilled women, but carefully selected top-notch ones. Although it is said that they have bad origins, they are definitely rare in the world.

Several people nodded their thanks to the Duke of Orleans, then picked up the mummy powder that had been prepared on the table beside them, each chose a room, and pushed the door open with a lewd smile.

The pharaohs of ancient Egypt probably never dreamed that the body they had worked so hard to prepare for resurrection would be ground into powder thousands of years later and used as a sheep-strengthening medicine.

…

Paris Merchant newspaper.

The warehouse, which is more than ten meters wide, is filled with the smell of ink and a faint musty smell. More than a dozen workers wearing gray-yellow coarse cloth with cracks on their faces and hands were busy tying the books into a pile with ropes and then placing them neatly on the wooden board.

The books in the warehouse were piled as high as two people, filling half of the warehouse.

Suddenly the door was pushed open. A handsome young man wearing a luxurious dark blue coat and an otter skin three-cornered hat walked in.

The workers all saw that his status must be very noble, so they stopped what they were doing, lowered their heads nervously and took a few steps back.

The young man greeted with a smile: Everyone, keep busy, don't worry about me...

As he was talking, a supervisor wearing a felt hat, a black leather vest, and black trousers, holding a wooden stick, suddenly came over from the other side, raised his stick at the nearest worker and beat him: Sluggard! Still! Do you want to be beaten before it’s time to take a break?”

The supervisor took a few steps and was about to hit another worker when he looked up and saw the noble boy and the manager Denico who had just walked into the warehouse behind the boy. He immediately understood what was going on.

He quickly bowed and saluted: Master, I didn't bump into you, did I?

Mr. Denico, you are here.

The young man is Joseph. He grabbed the supervisor's stick, threw it on the ground, and said coldly: Next time you hit someone without asking for the reason, don't do it again! This time I will fine you three days' wages.

Thanks to: Chu Fengzhi, Honey Mountain, Hongmeng Tianyuan, Li Tianxia, ​​Labalix, Renfecaomu crew, and Book Friends 20220112192635333 for their generous rewards for this book!

The young author is so grateful, hmm!