Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

“Cesar, take some men and check if there was any dentist who had contact with Lenot a month ago!”

Joseph pondered for a moment and then added, “If a dentist had been to Lenot’s house, his servant should know.”

“But the servant’s testimony didn’t mention…” Gizo began before he suddenly paused, realizing something, “Wait! Cesar, interrogate the servant as well!”

“Yes, my lord!”

Outside the city hall, the wailing of Lenot’s fiancée had stopped, whether because the guards had driven her away or someone had informed her that the case was to be reinvestigated was unknown.

In the afternoon, the portly mayor, accompanied by a group of city hall officials, came to invite Joseph to a dinner. It was then that the policeman named Cesar hurried over and whispered something to Gizo.

The latter’s eyes lit up. He turned to Joseph, placed a hand over his chest in a gesture of respect, and proclaimed in a lofty voice,

“Your Highness, as you had surmised, Lenot’s servant confessed shortly after his arrest. He said that indeed, a dentist had visited Lenot’s home at the time of the crime. The servant had taken money from that man and provided false testimony.”

The head of the merchants’ council urgently inquired, “What about the murderer?”

“Cesar searched the dentist’s residence and discovered he was a Briton. His brother had fought in the United States and was killed by Lenot. He came seeking revenge.” Gizo lowered his head, clearing his throat with a cough, “However, Cesar accidentally killed him during the pursuit.”

The surrounding dozen or so city hall officials upon hearing this could not help but look towards Joseph with surprise and admiration in their eyes. At the noon banquet, the Crown Prince had deduced the situation of the murderer based solely on some overheard clues.

And now, the actual investigation by the police almost perfectly matched his prediction!

The portly mayor immediately exclaimed loudly in praise, “Thank heavens for the Crown Prince’s wise and discerning judgment, or the murderer might have eluded justice.”

He then turned with a smile to the officials behind him and said in a low voice, “That woman will finally stop causing disturbances at the city hall…”

As night fell, upon the repeated invitations of Freselle, the head of the merchants’ council, Joseph stayed in his private villa. The city hall was too far from the Palace of Versailles, and he did not want to commute back and forth.

Joseph reclined on the soft bed, staring intently at the wall opposite, but feeling somewhat vexed.

Today, the portly mayor and the head of the merchants’ council had kept deflecting him, unwilling to agree to his involvement with the Police Department. He turned over, contemplating that if he still could not persuade them tomorrow, he would write to Queen Mary, asking her to place him in the Police Department.

Outside the room, Eman knocked lightly on the door: “Your Highness, have you gone to bed yet?”

“Not yet, come in.”

Eman entered, presenting a letter respectfully to Joseph, “Your Highness, this was delivered by the Police Department, it appears to be from Miss Lenot’s fiancée.”

“Her? A letter for me?”

Eman spoke with a solemn tone, “That is… she took her own life out of love tonight…”

Joseph felt a heavy sadness, not having expected there to be such a devoted woman in the world.

As he unfolded the letter, he saw that the first few lines were filled with thanks to police officers like Cesar, followed by her expressing a strong desire to personally thank the Crown Prince who had exposed the real culprit, but due to the enormous difference in their social standings, she could not meet him and could only show her gratitude in this way, filling an entire page with her thanks. At the end of the letter, she wrote that without Lenot, life held no appeal for her. Now that the police had avenged Lenot, she was ready to follow her lover in death. After her passing, she wished to bequeath all her property to the Crown Prince and the Police Headquarters.

Joseph was somewhat surprised by this bequest, while Eman added softly at his side, “Your Highness, it is said that Miss Estelle leaves behind a fortune of 4000 livres…”

The banks of the Seine River.

The Royal Palace situated here was once a hunting lodge of Louis XIV and now belongs to the Duke of Orleans.

The Orleans family once served as Regent during the reign of Louis XV, wielding immense power and, after more than a hundred years of accumulation, possessed wealth comparable to the Royal Family.

The current Duke of Orleans had continued to expand his influence since his father’s time, using this as a basis. Though he held no official position, he was able to attend Cabinet meetings and held substantial authority. Additionally, being a skillful actor and not stingy with his money, he was a welcomed guest in various political circles and maintained great prestige among the nobility.

A luxurious carriage entered the Royal Palace and stopped in front of the gallery where the Duke of Orleans stepped out, descending the stairs arranged by his servants.

Not far away, the sound of a speech drifted from the garden; he turned his head to glance in that direction, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. He knew that this was a gathering of some organizations dissatisfied with the Royal Family.

Indeed, the Royal Palace had become a secret base against the Royal Family, where future core members of the Feuillants, Girondin Party, and Jacobins often met. Moreover, various prohibited items, including controlled weapons, were traded here.

The Duke of Orleans used his power to provide them with a protective umbrella. He had painstakingly managed this for decades, supporting anything that could help overthrow the Royal Family.

The Duke of Orleans tossed his coat to a servant and strode into the main hall. Just as a guard opened the door, he saw his son berating a maid.

He cleared his throat and approached, saying, “Philippe, what has happened here?”

The young man turned around. It was the droopy-eyed youth who had taken the math test with Joseph that morning. He pointed at the maid, shouting sharply, “This idiot! She brought me black tea when I was in a bad mood! And it’s so hot!”

“What has upset you so much?”

“That Joseph!” Philippe clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, “He must have cheated! There’s no way he could have studied university-level courses!”

The Duke of Orleans asked about the details and frowned. He hadn’t expected the Crown Prince to impress a university scholar like Lagrange so much. After such difficulty with Louis XVI, who lacked intelligence, why was his son so outstanding?

He needed to suppress the Crown Prince’s growing prestige before it made overthrowing the King even more challenging.

He consoled his son for a while before the butler approached rapidly, bowing and saying, “My lord, Mr. Frouwa requests an audience.”

“Is it Levebelle’s confidant? Have him wait for me in the study.”

In the study, the Duke of Orleans read through the letter Frouwa had brought, a cold smile appearing in his eyes. He handed the letter to the butler beside him:

“The Crown Prince may have some cleverness, but he’s still a child after all. If he were to mingle at the town hall, I would indeed have no way of dealing with him, but he has actually volunteered to participate in police management.”

The butler, looking at the letter, clicked his tongue and said, “Paris has always been a place of chaos, especially the poor districts where robbery and murder never cease. Even those with decades of municipal experience are at their wits’ end. The Crown Prince is really asking for trouble.”

The Duke of Orleans laughed and nodded, “Since Joseph is so confident, let’s help him make a name for himself.”

He turned to Frouwa and said, “Go back and tell Levebelle to appoint the Crown Prince as the Police Commissioner of the Saint Antoine District.”

The Police Commissioner was a powerful position second only to the Director of Police Services, in charge of all police matters in one of Paris’s major districts. There were only six Police Commissioners in all of Paris.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

After Levebelle’s confidant had left, the Duke of Orleans instructed the butler, “Ensure ‘Paris News’ and ‘The Citizen’s Daily’ pay close attention to crime in the Saint Antoine District and the police management there. They should specifically mention the one in charge of the police affairs, our Crown Prince.”

“Yes,” the butler bowed and exited.

The Duke of Orleans strolled to the window, contentedly gazing at the Royal Palace Gardens in the night, a smirk forming on his lips:

“Once the Saint Antoine District turns into chaos, let’s see how the Austrian wench defends her son. Crown Prince? Hmph, soon you’ll be considered just as inept as your father in the eyes of the people!”

By “Austrian wench,” he referred to Queen Mary, born in Austria.