Outside Amsterdam

Champs-Élysées, midsection—six hundred meters from the Tuileries Palace, with the Louvre visible in the distance to the south.

Before Joseph stood a jewelry store with a frontage more than twenty meters wide. Its doors were half-closed, but the sign for Nagel Jewelry Store was still there.

According to what Eman had learned, the owner of the shop had married a Spaniard and planned to sell the property and move to Spain.

Joseph went inside and inspected it. The shop was quite new, with two floors, each measuring a little over five hundred square meters. The thick oak floors, the brass-wrapped corners and stair railings—everything was exquisitely finished, exuding a restrained, refined beauty.

He did not waste much time. He quickly reached an agreement with the owner's agent and bought the shop for 36,000 livres.

For the busiest commercial district in Paris, that was a fairly reasonable price.

Eman went to complete the paperwork, while Joseph looked around and said to the architect who had accompanied him, "Mr. Archide, I need your help making some adjustments to this shop."

Indeed, among the Crown Prince's personal attendants was an architect kept on hand at all times. Usually, he had almost nothing to do, but today he was finally of use.

"Please give your instructions, Your Highness."

Joseph pointed at the wall facing the street. "Replace all these walls with glass. The larger the panes, the better, so pedestrians can see the inside of the shop at a glance from the street."

"Replace all these wooden display cabinets. Have glass display cases made, a little over one meter high. From now on, the goods will be placed directly on top, so customers can touch them whenever they wish."

"The lights need replacing as well. Use the crystal chandeliers from my reception room. The lighting must be absolutely sufficient—every corner of the shop has to be brightly illuminated."

"Paint the exterior walls in fresh, soft colors..."

Archide kept writing in his notebook until Joseph turned to ask him, "That should be about it. How long will these alterations take? And how much will they cost?"

The architect hurriedly flipped back through his notes and said hesitantly, "About half a month, and perhaps 3,000 livres."

Joseph nodded. "I'll give you 5,000 livres. Finish it within a week. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Your Highness. I will certainly do my utmost." After thinking for a moment, Archide added, "Your Highness, forgive my presumption, but even if Angel Water were displayed in a general store on Pont Neuf, it would still be snapped up. This shop is already quite good. Why spend so much money renovating it?"

Joseph smiled. "Because aside from Angel Water, this shop itself is also merchandise."

Archide was somewhat startled. "You intend to sell the shop as well?"

"No. I mean a different kind of merchandise. Think of this shop as a sample."

Netherlands.

Inside a military camp four kilometers south of Amsterdam.

An elderly man in a long green Military Uniform, his hair half gray and his chin tilted slightly to the left, frowned at the map. After a long while, he finally said, "I believe we should abandon Amstelveen for now and withdraw to south of Amsterdam, using the waterways to hold them back..."

The middle-aged man beside him, dressed in a dark white uniform, immediately interrupted him loudly, his tone dripping with mockery. "Colonel Vorst, my boys and I came all the way to the Netherlands not to watch your army practice tactics for avoiding the enemy."

Vorst had absolute authority in the Netherlands Army, yet before this officer who held only the rank of Captain, he did not dare show his anger. He merely hardened his tone. "Mr. Diboa, the Prussian Army's vanguard is only fifteen kilometers from Amstelveen. The entire town has no fortifications to defend. Are we supposed to sit here and wait for death?"

Amstelveen was a town directly south of Amsterdam. If it fell, Amsterdam would be completely exposed before the Prussian Army.

The French Captain continued mockingly, "Fortifications? Your great army could not even hold Utrecht's sturdy fortifications. Even if Amstelveen had ten fortresses, I fear they would be of little help to you."

Vorst's face reddened. "What use is there in saying that? What matters now is deciding how to face the enemy!"

"Attack," Dib—

—oa shouted, "Frenchmen have always crushed their enemies through attack!"

A Dutch officer beside them hurriedly said, "Mr. Diboa, including the soldiers we have temporarily drafted, we have only a little over 9,000 men. But the Prussian Army opposite us has more than 20,000. Attacking under such circumstances would be no different from suicide."

Diboa smiled. "Twenty thousand is the strength of the entire Prussian Army. Their vanguard that reaches here certainly will not number that many."

"More importantly, thanks to your previous rout being so swift, the Prussian Army has been marching at high speed for over ten days. The Netherlands is crisscrossed with waterways, so their Cannon likely cannot keep pace with their vanguard."

"Yet we have more than ten Cannon!"

Vorst stared at him wide-eyed. "Are you truly planning to attack the Prussian Army?"

"Why not?" Diboa looked back at him. "The Prussian Army certainly will not expect the Dutch Army, which has been retreating all this time, to suddenly counterattack. They will let down their guard. That is precisely our opportunity."

Vorst felt somewhat uncomfortable beneath his gaze and lowered his head. "No matter how brave your soldiers may be, even with Cannon, charging in so rashly..."

Diboa shook his head. "No, not my soldiers. Yours."

"M-my men? How could that work..."

Diboa cut him off again. "Your men—and use the recruits to attack the Prussian vanguard. Then have them pretend to collapse in rout... Oh, they will certainly collapse in rout."

"My men and your main force will wait for the Prussian Army in the narrow stretch between the Sibella River and Abcoude Lake. All my Cannon will be deployed there."

The Dutch officers' eyes lit up. They could already picture the Prussian Army being caught in a sudden ambush and fleeing in panic.

Ever since Prussia had intervened in the Netherlands, they had not won a single battle. At this moment, they thirsted for victory more than ever.

Vorst, however, frowned and shook his head. "Even if we truly defeat the Prussian vanguard, it will be of little use. Their main force will arrive soon enough, and then we still will not be able to hold."

"The States-General's task for me is to hold for five days."

Diboa corrected him, "Before holding for five days, you must first win a battle that repels the Prussian attack. Otherwise, if you retreat all the way to Hoorn, you could hold for more than a week."

As he spoke, he looked toward the young officer standing solemnly nearby, with curly hair and a nose sharp as a sword. "Andre, how long do you think the Prussian main force will take to reach Amsterdam?"

The young officer stood tall and answered, "Sir, if they are allowed to march unimpeded, they can pass through Amstelveen before nightfall tomorrow. But if we can harass their supply lines, that time will be greatly delayed."

"Very good." Diboa gave him an approving look. "Then I will leave this task to you."

"Yes, sir!"

Vorst said in astonishment, "Second Lieutenant Davout has only a little over sixty Cavalry under his command. How could he possibly attack the Prussian supply lines?"

"No, not merely sixty men." Diboa smiled and shook his head. "He will also have your 650 Cavalry."