Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Joseph continued to ask, “What about the preparations on the Basel side?”

Bertier immediately responded, “Your Highness, the aid from Wurttemberg was completely delivered to Basel three months ago. At present, the Congress of Basel has used these supplies to train over 800 militiamen and has constructed a defensive line on the north side of the Jura Mountain.”

After expelling the “Council of Seven,” Frenno and other “Stuttgart faction” members of parliament, whose core proposal was for Basel to join the “Stuttgart Trade Agreement,” joined forces with the Basel Chamber of Commerce and several noble families, reconvened Congress, and announced the legislation to separate from the Swiss Federation and form a militia for self-defense.

“As for Augsburg,” the Chief of Staff spoke with evident dissatisfaction, “although mercenaries have been gathered according to plan, a suitable officer has yet to be deployed.”

Joseph snorted softly, “Tell the Augsburg Congress that if they hesitate, they can withdraw directly.”

As a vassal of Austria for hundreds of years, it was normal for Augsburg to fear its suzerain.

Bertier glanced at Lavallette.

The Security Bureau Director hastened to add, “Your Highness, as an alternative plan, just in case, we found a retired captain named Clermont Pelletier in Montpellier.

“He served under General Massena and participated in several battles in Switzerland, his capabilities are quite good. If not for his injury and retirement, he would have already been a Major by now.”

Joseph frowned slightly, “His pension should be enough for his retirement.”

Lavallette explained, “Indeed, Your Highness, he purchased a vineyard in his hometown. He just doesn’t like too peaceful a life and wants to do something that he can boast about to his children.”

Only then did Joseph’s expression soften. He had always hated embezzling soldiers’ pensions—it was equivalent to embezzling the lives of the House of Bourbon.

He further instructed Bertier, “Prepare contingency plans in advance to prevent a quick defeat of the Basel people.”

“Yes, Your Highness. In fact, a ‘paving team’ from Wurttemberg has already begun moving toward the southern border.”

“Very good. The publicity should keep up as well…”

Only when the sky darkened did the few seniors of the Senate finally end the “farewell,” disembark and return to the Palace of Versailles.

Due to the lack of railways in the provinces west of Paris, the Crown Prince’s entourage could only proceed “slowly” by carriage.

It took seven or eight days just to pass by Cherbourg, which was still nearly a third of the way to Brest.

Queen Mary, having just listened to the last spoiler of “Puss in Boots” from her son, looked out the window somewhat tiredly:

“Such a fascinating story, darling, I really don’t know how you come up with such interesting tales…

“To be honest, I haven’t slept well these past few days.”

Joseph quickly inquired with concern, “Why is that? Is the journey too bumpy?”

“Not really.” Queen Mary waved her hand, “Mainly, I’m used to the clanging sounds from the Royal Workshop every day, and now it’s suddenly too quiet, which makes me a little uneasy.”

The Petit Trianon Palace is a good kilometer away from the Royal Workshop, and it’s rare to hear its sounds unless the forge is in use.

Joseph knew this must be because the novelty of the trip had worn off, and she was starting to miss her old father.

But this wasn’t surprising; she had been married into the Palace of Versailles before the age of 15 and had hardly ever left her old father, forming a psychological dependency.

At that moment, a light knock on the carriage from Eman was heard.

Joseph opened the window and saw Eman, mounted on a white Gaul horse, bowing slightly towards them, “Your Highness, news just came from Brest, the Brittany Sea has been experiencing strong winds since yesterday, expected to last at least a week.

“Both Marquis Hector and Mr. Woklair suggest postponing the inaugural ceremony of the ‘Decisive’ until early next month.”

“Let’s go with their recommendation.” Joseph nodded. One was the Commander of the Atlantic Fleet, the other the manager of Brest Shipyard, and their professionalism was beyond question.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Joseph closed the window, turning to see his mother’s worried face, thinking of ways to divert her attention.

He suddenly recalled a report he had read a few days ago about the successful expansion of the Saint Malo Cannery, and smiled at his mother, “You see, for now, we can’t make it to Brest.

“But if you really miss those clanging mechanical sounds, we could take this opportunity to visit a place. I guarantee it’s much more ‘lively’ than the Royal Workshop.”

At the word “lively,” Queen Mary’s first thought was of a ball. She leaned off the armrest and asked, “Where exactly are you talking about?”

“The Saint Malo coastal cannery.”

“A cannery?” Queen Mary’s interest waned immediately, “A place where they make cans?”

Though she had never eaten canned food in the Palace of Versailles, she had seen it a few times.

Joseph smiled, “Trust me, it is definitely not an ordinary factory.”

He said this while opening the window again, motioning to Eman traveling with them, “Please instruct everyone to head toward Saint Malo.”

By noon the next day.

When the convoy turned off the King’s Avenue into the hills south of Saint Malo Port, Queen Mary indeed heard the clanging metal sounds.

However, at this moment, her attention was not on this. Instead, she gazed with wide eyes at the enormous complex below the hills in shock—

The gray-black factory buildings sprawled messily beside the harbor, yet they were not the Royal Workshop but larger than the entire palace of the Palace of Versailles!

Numerous chimneys stood on both the east and west sides of the factories, with thick smoke billowing up into the sky.

From a further factory, steam locomotives—or trains, it was too far to see clearly—occasionally sped along, spewing white smoke. Cranes quickly began unloading boxes from the cars.

Enormous mounds of coal piled beside the northern docks, taller than any of the factory buildings, likely served as fuel for these plants.

Countless workers moved back and forth between factory buildings, making it as busy and orderly as a giant ant colony.

The people of the cannery had only learned of the Crown Prince’s visit that morning and had little time to prepare. Upon the arrival of the convoy, General Manager Delate immediately signaled for music to be played, leading over a hundred factory personnel and local officials to greet them together.

Dressed in a guard’s outfit, Queen Mary stood beside Joseph and quietly asked, “Such a large plant, is it really for making canned food?”

Joseph nodded, “Yes, mother. This factory can process all the cod caught along the Amor coastline into cans!”