Chapter 148: William in English, Guillaume in French (2) "Gentlemen, I intend to step down from the position of Controller-General of Finance."
"Minister Guillaume, what did you just say…?"
"I said I plan to step down."
The upscale restaurant in front of the Palais-Royal, where cheerful conversation and polite toasts had filled the air only moments earlier, fell silent. Even the clinking of cutlery stopped at my single sentence.
"Why the long faces? Please eat before the food gets cold. The veal here is excellent. The sauce is thick, and there's plenty of lean meat."
I spoke casually and stabbed my fork into the neatly sliced meat the chef had prepared.
At the table with me, the three men exchanged brief, unreadable glances before leaning toward me at once.
"Minister, why on earth would you say something like resignation all of a sudden?! Think it over again!"
"Chairman Mirabeau is right! What wind blew through your head that made you say such nonsense?!"
"Chairman Mirabeau and Deputy Sieyès both speak wisely. Minister Guillaume, at least tell us your reason."
"I'm the one who's puzzled here. My term is over, so I'm stepping down. That's all. A two-year term—now finished."
Of course I knew. I knew very well.
I happen to be a very competent slave—no, civil servant.
If Florian suddenly submitted a resignation letter, I would use every trick in the book to change his mind. So I can imagine how desperate you gentlemen must feel.
"Why? Is the salary too small? Five thousand livres is indeed rather little for a man of your talents. If that's the problem, I'll propose a salary increase in the Assembly!"
"Our Plain faction agrees with Chairman Mirabeau."
"The Mountain faction also agrees."
"It's not about the salary. My term is finished, so I'm stepping down."
"That's easy enough. We simply amend the law. How many years do you want? Three? Four?"
"Hm. Chairman Mirabeau, how about ten years?"
"Not a bad idea, Deputy Sieyès."
"You people aren't listening to me, are you?"
Over the past two years I had been tossed back and forth between Versailles, Paris, and every minor affair imaginable. Recently I finally sat down and ran the numbers.
No matter how I calculated it, I would end up dying gloriously from overwork before the age of thirty, bleeding from every hole in my body.
"Gentlemen?"
"Hold on a moment, Minister. We're discussing something."
"Perhaps we should expand the Ministry of Finance office and install both a bed and a bathroom inside?"
"Oh, that's a reasonable idea."
"..."
The millstone of disbelief inside my mind spun so fast it flew off toward Andromeda. Yet even while I stared at them in stunned disbelief, Mirabeau, Sieyès, and Robespierre huddled together, plotting their sinister schemes.
Honestly, even the Devil rotting in Purgatory would probably respect labor rights more than these people.
These men probably haven't even noticed I've been wearing the same clothes for three days. Devils, the lot of them.
Ah. One of my favorite historical figures from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms is Zhuge Liang. The brilliant prime minister of Shu, the loyal strategist who filled the hearts of children reading that story with dreams of devoted service.
When I was little, I saw the story about the falling star at Wuzhang Plains and thought: When I grow up, I want to become someone like Zhuge Liang.
But now that I've actually run a Ministry of Finance, looking back on it again…
Honestly, Zhuge Liang absolutely deserved to die of overwork.
Of course Wei Yan knocking over the candle shortened his life by seven years.
Anyway, I have no desire to die young like Zhuge Liang.
I want to pile money in warehouses and live warmly and comfortably. Do you understand, humans?
"Minister, we've discussed it among ourselves."
"I have absolutely no intention of being buried inside the Ministry of Finance."
"Come now, don't be like that. Just take the role a little longer. Yes?"
"I said I'm not doing it."
Damn it… now that I think about it, Mirabeau, Sieyès, Robespierre—you're not devils. You're Wei Yan.
You villains—were you sent by Cao Cao and Sima Yi? I knew you had the look of rebels. No, wait—you actually started a revolution, so you really are rebels.
Let me say it again. I have absolutely no intention of spending the flower of my twenties buried under paperwork in the Ministry of Finance.
Which means the only way forward is persuading these rebellious Wei Yans.
But what justification could I possibly construct to defeat them?
"Gentlemen?"
"Minister, have you changed your mind?"
"…Please listen to what I have to say first."
I cleared my throat twice before speaking to the three rebels.
"I feel a great deal of responsibility for the Toussaint Louverture affair. Some people may defend my actions as righteous, but from another perspective, did I not allow the head of the executive branch—myself—to exert personal pressure on a member of the judiciary?"
Fortunately, the three rebels in front of me were all constitutional fanatics.
Which meant that if I moved carefully behind the shield of the law, they couldn't simply drag me back by force.
"Therefore, since I exercised such personal pressure, I must accept responsibility. I intend to step back and reflect for a time."
"Well… that small fault hardly—"
"Ahem! Separation of powers! Defense of the constitution! Long live the Revolution! Vive la Révolution!"
"..."
At last, the miserable civil-service life was over. A happy life could begin.
"Oh, and for the next Controller-General of Finance, I recommend Director Condorcet of the French Mint."
After all, didn't Director Condorcet nominate me to that three-estate committee or whatever it was? I'm merely returning the favor.
Kingdom of Great Britain, London.
Foreign Office, Westminster.
"Phew…"
Prime Minister William Pitt sat in the Foreign Office meeting room, rubbing the bridge of his nose, which lately had grown increasingly dry.
It was all because of this damned position of Prime Minister.
At Westminster he argued endlessly with the old men of the Whig Party. At the Admiralty he fought admirals who constantly demanded new ships of the line. Meanwhile the East India Company was causing trouble again in Bengal.
Damn it. Most of the time they said, "We are a company that does not need government control." But the moment disaster struck, they cried, "Help us, Prime Minister! We're finished!"
And on top of all that there was diplomacy—smiling politely face-to-face while behaving like filth behind the scenes.
Even if Pitt had two bodies—no, three—it would not be enough.
Barely a decade had passed, yet the energetic young man of twenty-four already seemed five or ten years older than his peers.
And today the honor of adding another wrinkle to Pitt's face belonged to that young Frenchman across the Dover Strait.
"Really… Guillaume de Toulon is impossible to grasp."
"Indeed, Prime Minister."
"Are we certain he resigned from the position of Controller-General of Finance?"
"Yes. Please see this."
The Undersecretary handed him a small booklet.
"Forbes."
"It was published in Paris yesterday. It reports that Guillaume de Toulon resigned."
"Hmm… in that case we have little choice but to believe it. What does the Foreign Office think of this man?"
The Undersecretary stroked his chin before answering.
"To be honest, until today everyone in the Foreign Office believed he was a dark schemer like Enrico Dandolo, the Doge of the Republic of Venice."
"My thoughts exactly."
"He is a man capable of manipulating both the legislature and the executive branch. We even analyzed the Toussaint Louverture affair as an event orchestrated to discipline the judiciary."
"That was a reasonable conclusion."
But then—
Why would Guillaume de Toulon behave irrationally?
"Why would a man capable of controlling a great nation like France voluntarily resign and return to private life?"
Pitt tapped the portrait of Guillaume de Toulon printed on the front page of Forbes.
"Well… there is one person who behaved somewhat similarly."
"Really? Who?"
"George Washington."
"Ah—the man who became the 'President' of those people in the New World."
"Yes. After the war he voluntarily stepped down as commander of the Continental Army."
"Hmm…"
George Washington.
"Yet he was immediately elected president afterward. In my opinion, he simply stepped down from a ceremonial position before becoming entangled in controversy."
Pitt stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Still, I must conclude that he is quite different from the politicians we have dealt with so far."
Was he a calculating leader who could read chaos, accumulate immense wealth, and command the masses with bold oratory?
Or—
Is he an idealist filled with justice, like my friend Wilberforce?
William Pitt felt a surge of curiosity toward the young Frenchman whose portrait lay on the table.
"Undersecretary, why not send word to the French embassy?"
"What message should we send, Prime Minister?"
"Tell them that the Royal Court and Parliament of Great Britain invite the distinguished French figure Guillaume de Toulon."
"…Do you think he will come?"
"Wasn't Guillaume de Toulon a businessman before the Revolution?"
"Yes. I hear he still runs businesses."
"Then offer him this: if he visits Britain, we will relax certain regulations on foreign businesses operating here. A businessman would not pass up the chance to operate in a wealthy country like Britain."
"Yes, Prime Minister. I will contact the embassy immediately."
"…So you are asking me to come to Britain?"
"That is correct, Your Excellency."
I had only just regained my freedom, and now they wanted me to travel again?
I really hate diplomats.
"Why me?"
"Why? You are the hottest topic in all Europe. His Majesty the King and the Prime Minister both wish to meet you."
"Sigh… I understand the reason now. But why should I go?"
Why would I leave comfortable Paris for gloomy, rain-soaked England?
"The Prime Minister says that if you visit Britain, the Nations of Isaac will be granted partial permission to expand its business operations in the country."
"When should I book the ship?"
Well, I can't resist business expansion.
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