Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

"Hmph, such an impolite woman!"

Queen Mary slammed the silver spoon heavily onto the table, chewing vigorously on her cherry syllabub cake, only to find that even her favorite cake no longer tasted exquisite.

Her good mood from chatting with the Count of Artuwa at noon had entirely dissipated due to the visit from Madame Adelaide.

The queen muttered resentfully under her breath:

"Hmph! That old princess who can’t even get married, why should she poke her nose into the affairs of France?"

Indeed, Madame Adelaide was one of the individuals she least liked in the Palace of Versailles—the former had tried to manipulate her into palace intrigue with Madame Dubarry when she first married into Versailles, making her profoundly uncomfortable.

In fact, Joseph knew that Madame Adelaide was the first person to secretly call the queen "the Austrian bitch" behind her back.

With her supporting the Old Nobility like a godsend, it completely negated the efforts of the Count of Artuwa in opposing the abolition of noble privileges.

...

Provence.

Nice.

A middle-aged man dressed in a black short coat and grey cotton breeches stood on a fishmonger’s cart, waving his hand emphatically as he spoke loudly and angrily:

"Who exactly took away the reserve grain His Majesty the King had prepared for us? It’s precisely because of the lack of that food that the price of bread in the city has more than doubled!"

"What exactly do those heartless people want to do?"

"They want to murder us!"

The food shortage had just passed not long ago, and many people had lost relatives and friends during that time. Hearing his words, they immediately stopped in their tracks and listened with furrowed brows.

The middle-aged man continued:

"Perhaps everyone has seen those messages.

"Yes, those names on the playing cards—Duke of Seville, Count Seyrelier, Duke of Durelph, Duke of Mushi... It was they who stole the grain from the granaries through despicable means and then watched us starve to death!"

This speaker was precisely the one Mirabeau had arranged to be in Nice.

Joseph had refrained from disclosing Mono’s privately issued orders that disrupted the reserve granaries, and had even not allowed for Mono’s arrest up to now, precisely because he wanted to pin this scandal on more important targets.

Moreover, the Parisians had heard that the upheavals in the south had not been completely quelled—because Joseph needed this unrest to continue, he needed a targeted "riot."

As for the "evidence" of the scapegoat, that wasn’t important at all.

The people only needed an outlet for their rage, they couldn’t care less about evidence. If those from the Assembly of Notables wanted to defend themselves, they were more than welcome to visit each province in the south one by one. With the current level of information dissemination, even if they had solid evidence, it would take half a year to explain everything to everyone.

Not to mention they had no evidence to clear themselves.

This was the convenience of controlling public opinion. Previously, the great nobles led by the Duke of Orleans had used the weapon of public opinion to smear the Royal Family every day. Now it was time for them to taste what it was like to be smeared.

Joseph was well aware that he couldn’t bring down so many great nobles all at once, even taking down someone like the Duke of Mushi would be very tough.

But this was France.

What weapon had the greatest power here?

Without a doubt, it was street riots, the collective demonstrations and protests of the citizens! The bloodline talent of the old district folks was no joke; it was a terrifying monster that could swallow up even a king!

With this ultimate weapon deployed, the likes of Duke of Mushi, Duke of Durelph, wouldn’t they all be as fragile as paper.

Even a top noble like the Duke of Orleans could be easily torn apart!

Of course, Joseph was even more aware that if he couldn’t control this ultimate weapon, it would bring about a terrifying backlash.

So, from the beginning, he strived to focus the "monster’s" gaze within a limited range, and everyone leading the "monster" was his own person.

He had even prepared the person to be blamed afterward.

```

It was to ensure that after the targeted individuals were eliminated, the "monster" would immediately disappear.

The bystanders surrounding the man in the black coat immediately began whispering amongst themselves:

"What does this gentleman mean by ’playing cards’?"

A young man quickly took out a booklet from his coat pocket and flipped to the first page:

"Ah? You don’t even know about this? Look, this is it!"

The crowd craned their necks to see neat rows of playing cards depicted in the booklet, with each card bearing a simple portrait and a name below it.

The first card featured the Duke of Mushi, followed by the Count Seyrelier...

A total of 52 cards encapsulated the high echelons of the Assembly of Notables.

Joseph had arranged it this way to channel the people’s anger as much as possible. As long as the individuals on the playing cards were taken down, the protesting crowd would naturally disperse for lack of targets.

One has to admit, the clever tricks invented by those Americans in later ages are indeed handy.

An elderly onlooker pointed at the booklet and shouted to the middle-aged man giving the speech:

"Is it really them who took away the emergency food supplies?"

"It is them!" the latter clenched his fist tightly, "They stole the food and hoarded it in their own estates!"

Another question arose:

"But why would they do that?"

"Money, it’s all for money!" the orator in the black coat pointed eastward, "They steal the emergency food supplies, and the price of bread in the city goes up due to the shortage. Then they sell the grain at high prices, easily making more than double the profit!

"Your life, mine, and the lives of all the poor people, are turned into jingling silver coins in their hands!" n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The old man, reminded of his deceased spouse, immediately had his eyes blurred with tears and gritted his teeth angrily:

"These bastards deserve to go to hell! I, I am going to seek revenge on them!"

Quite a few people around him also recalled the deceased in their families and began to roar furiously:

"Strangle those devils!"

"Take revenge on them!"

"Make those damn people pay!"

The man standing on the cart, who was giving the speech, had not expected things to go so smoothly. He had prepared nearly an hour’s worth of lecture, which now seemed unnecessary.

He immediately waved his hand vigorously, pointing towards the estate of the Duke of Durelph:

"Let’s go! We’re going to settle the score with that devil!"

A secret agent from the Police Affairs Department, who had been waiting nearby, heard this and gave a look to Scarface beside him.

The latter immediately nodded with a forced smile, leading more than twenty of his men to the forefront of the crowd, shouting:

"I know the way! Follow me, everyone!"

Driven by the herd mentality, hundreds followed him, and along the way, other speakers rallied more citizens to join, quickly amassing a crowd of thousands.

The black-coated orator from before took a few sips from a cup of water handed to him by a comrade, ready to rush to the next location to continue stirring up the citizens.

The police officers standing further away had already been "persuaded" by the Secret Police and had no intention of intervening in the matter.

At 3 p.m., the massive crowd surrounded the estate of the Duke of Durelph.

The estate guards pointed their guns at the angry citizens with trembling hands, until the butler came out anxiously pushing the door, to negotiate with Scarface, who was leading the charge.

```