"So much!" Joseph sighed. "He's being far too irrational."
He knew Camellia's gesture toward her collar meant that Charles wanted a gold Glorious Contribution Medal.
It was a gimmick he had designed to sell War Bonds—anyone who bought a large amount of Government Bonds could receive a lapel pin shaped like a shield and a fleur-de-lis.
Buying 30,000 Francs' worth earned a copper medal, 100,000 Francs earned a silver medal, while a gold medal required purchasing 300,000 Francs in Government Bonds.
He himself wore a gold Glorious Contribution Medal.
Under his arrangements, from Louis XVI to Queen Mary, even Alexandra had recently shown obvious favor toward nobles wearing the medals.
Just last week, Mirabeau, who possessed two gold medals, had even received the honor of dining at the same table as the King, setting off a frenzy of "contribution medal comparisons" among the nobles of Versailles Palace.
At the very least, any noble without even a copper medal felt too embarrassed to greet others. Some whose family circumstances were truly dire had no choice but to rent medals in order to attend social occasions.
Of course, the returns on the War Bonds were also fairly good—5.6% annual interest for three-year terms and 6.8% for five-year terms.
Joseph knew that Charles had previously used all his savings to buy Government Bonds and received a silver medal. Perhaps egged on by other nobles, he now wanted a gold one as well.
"Your Highness, perhaps you do not realize how much pressure you place on Prince Charles," Camellia said. "He always pushes himself desperately to do better, trying to catch up to your footsteps."
Joseph nodded.
Charles was thirteen this year, at an age when he needed to seek his own worth, and his elder brother naturally became his most immediate benchmark. The