The betrayer

At 9 a. m., in the East Hall Conference Room of the Versailles Palace, the Cabinet Meeting that would decide the fate of France reconvened. 😲♖ 🎁🔥

"Now, let's begin the Cabinet decision-making process." Queen Mary surveyed the assembled gentlemen at the large conference table. "Gentlemen, those who agree with Count Sumiyar's proposal and believe Archbishop Brienne should resign immediately, please make your statement."

The Duke of Orléans immediately broke into a smug smile and slowly raised his right hand. He was absolutely confident of bringing down Brienne —yesterday he had promised Nicoé a full 300,000 Livre, a huge sum that would definitely tempt the "Transparent Minister."

Sumiyar and Vergennes followed suit, raising their hands one after the other.

There was a moment of silence in the Hall.

The Duke of Orléans glanced at Nicoé, signaling with his eyes that he should do something.

There was no response.

The Duke of Orléans frowned, coughed lightly, and said in a low voice, "Ahem, Count Nicoé."

Nicoé, however, was focused on the Queen sitting at the head of the conference table, as if he hadn't heard anything.

Queen Mary looked around again and asked, "Is there anything else?"

When the Duke of Orléans saw that Nicoé was still sitting as still as a statue, he finally realized that something was wrong. He immediately glared at the latter fiercely, as if he wanted to pierce through his chest with his gaze.

Queen Mary placed her hands on the table, stood up, and announced loudly, "According to the Cabinet's decision, Archbishop Brienne will continue to serve as Minister of Finance for the next two months."

She then turned to Brienne and nodded, "I hope you will bring us good news in two months. If not, please remember your promise."

The Queen turned and left.

The Duke of Orléans angrily turned the conference table, intending to question the Minister of Census sitting on the other side, only to see the latter walk out of the Golden Gate without looking back, as if the two had never met the night before.

He rushed out of the Conference Hall, but instead of chasing after Nicoé, he quickly left Versailles Palace, jumped into his Carriage, and gritted his teeth angrily, saying, "That damned traitor Nicoé!"

"As for you, Brienne, you've only wasted two more months. That bill has absolutely no chance of passing!"

Royal Palace.

Several enormous crystal chandeliers illuminated the Hall, which was over 50 Domi long.

In the oil painting on the wall, the Old Duke of Orléans looks arrogantly at the middle-aged man on the wooden platform in front of him, as if listening to him report to the Regent.

"We must do something!" shouted the middle-aged man with a curly white wig and a face covered in acne scars, waving his hands vigorously. "Everyone, write to His Majesty the King and demand that Brienne step down immediately..."

Hall of Nobility, some standing and some sitting, continuously echoed in loud voices:

"Yes! Brienne betrayed everyone here, and he will be punished!"

"To expect us to pay the same taxes as those lowly people is an insult!"

Anyone who attended the Assembly of Notables earlier this year would recognize that those present were members of the Assembly of Notables, the most influential Nobility.

Beside the arched window on the west side, a man nearing forty, with a large face and a double chin, whispered to the person next to him, "We just had a party like this over ten days ago, why are we having another one?"

The Nobility beside him said, "Earl Mirabeau, are you unaware of what happened at the Cabinet Meeting a couple of days ago?"

"I heard that Count Sumiyar initiated a motion to remove Archbishop Brienne, but it failed."

The Nobility laughed and said, "Although we couldn't dismiss him, the Queen demanded that he get the Tax Law Registration within two months, or he would be exiled to Corsica."

Mirabeau nodded slightly. Previously, the Minister of Finance Calonne, had been exiled for his failure to push through the Tax Law. If Brienne failed as well, it would be tantamount to declaring to all the Nobility that the High Court had the ability to restrain the power of the Royal House.

He smiled and said, "This gathering will unite us even more, and we will finally win in two months."

In a room on the second floor, the Duke of Orléans glanced down at the bustling Hall, turned, raised his glass, and smiled, "See, gentlemen, everyone is on our side."

The people in front of him also raised their glasses, and one of them said, "Correcting the mistakes of the Royal House is the duty of the High Court."

"I've seen that bill; it's full of absurdity. I believe no judge would allow it to Registration."

"That's true. However, even if Archbishop Brienne makes significant revisions to the terms, we cannot allow the bill to pass."

"That's right, this is practically a provocation against the High Court!"

Orleans smiled and nodded, then warmly clinked glasses with the others.

These are the most powerful judges of the High Court; any bill that wants to Registration requires their approval.

With the judges' promises and the support of the high-ranking Nobility in the Hall, even if Brienne were incredibly capable, he would have no choice but to obediently head to Corsica two months later.

"Oh, by the way, I've also prepared some surprises for everyone." The Duke of Orléans gestured towards several closed doors to the side, a meaningful expression on his face. "I hope you like them."

The judges exchanged glances and knowing smiles.

They knew this was part of the Duke of Orléans ' program to entertain distinguished guests. The women in that room were not ordinary prostitutes, but carefully selected beauties, whose origins were said to be illegitimate, yet they were absolutely rare in the world.

The group nodded their thanks to the Duke of Orléans, then picked up the mummy powder that had been prepared on the table, each chose a room, and entered with lewd smiles.

The pharaohs of ancient Egypt probably never dreamed that the bodies they painstakingly prepared for their resurrection would be ground into powder and used as aphrodisiacs thousands of years later.

Paris Business Daily Newspaper Office)

The warehouse, which was Domi, was filled with the smell of ink and a faint musty odor. More than a dozen workers, dressed in coarse gray-yellow cloth clothes and with cracked faces and hands, were busy bundling books into a stack with ropes and then neatly arranging them on wooden boards.

The books in the warehouse were piled up to be more than two people high, filling almost half of the warehouse.

Suddenly the door was pushed open. A handsome young man, dressed in a luxurious dark blue coat and wearing an otter-skin Tricorn Hat, walked in.

The workers could tell that he must be of very high status, so they all stopped what they were doing, lowered their heads nervously, and took a few steps back.

The boy smiled and said, "Everyone, keep going, don't worry about me..."

As he was speaking, a foreman wearing a felt hat, a black leather vest, and black trousers, carrying a wooden stick, suddenly walked over from the other side and raised the stick to strike the nearest worker. "Lazybones! It's not time to rest yet, do you all want a beating?"

The foreman took a few steps and was about to hit another worker when he looked up and saw the Nobility boy and the manager Denico, who had just entered the warehouse behind the boy. He immediately understood what was going on.

He quickly bowed and asked, "Sir, have I offended you?"

"Mr. Denico, you've arrived."

The boy was Joseph. He snatched the foreman's stick, threw it on the ground, and said coldly, "If you hit someone without asking why next time, you're fired! This time, you'll be fined three days' wages."

Many thanks to the generous donations from the following individuals: Chu Fengzhi, Honey Mountain, Hongmeng Tianyuan, Li Tianxia, Labalis, the Renfeicaomu drama crew, and book friend 20220112192635333!

The author is extremely grateful, thank you!

(End of this chapter)