Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Chapter 4: Chapter 4: There is only one truth! 真実はいつもひとつ!

Joseph casually drew back the curtains and, upon seeing the surrounding scene, immediately furrowed his brow.

Since arriving in this world, he had been taking exams at the Palace of Versailles. This was his first glimpse at the face of Paris.

Completely unlike the most prosperous metropolis in Europe that he had imagined—the buildings were dirty and old, the streets were full of mud and sewage, and even excrement. The stench originated from there. Occasionally, the bodies of dead animals floated down the Seine River, while workshops along the bank discharged strangely colored wastewater into the river, staining it brown.

Merchants haphazardly set up their stalls on both sides of the road, making the already spacious street extremely congested. Children waved clumps of mud, happily chasing each other. Curses could be heard without any clear reason.

Fights and scuffles were a common sight, and passersby turned a deaf ear to the screams of those being beaten.

There were even robberies in broad daylight, which did not cease until Joseph had his guard intervene. The robbers then scurried off into the alleys. And this was in the Louvre District, supposedly the safest area in all of Paris…

In short, the entire city lacked any romantic vibe from the influence of enlightenment thought, nor did it show the vigorous spirit of the industrial revolution.

Despite its proximity, the grand Palace of Versailles seemed to exist in a different world from Paris.

The carriage crossed the northern bank of the Seine River, and the coachman softly called “Whoa,” bringing the vehicle to a slow stop.

“Your Highness, we have arrived,” Eman bowed to signify and then descended from the carriage to open the door for the Crown Prince.

Joseph rubbed his buttocks, which had nearly been jostled to pieces, and walked down the stairs set up by his attendants, and raised his eyes to see a grandiose building nearly a hundred meters wide in the front, its outer walls covered in statues, composed of numerous columns and arched floor-to-ceiling windows, like a huge castle presiding over the center of Paris, declaring the supreme power of the feudal class.

The city hall had already received news of the Crown Prince’s visit and officials of all ranks were now gathered on the square outside the main entrance to greet His Highness.

But the silver royal carriage they had been eagerly waiting for never appeared.

It wasn’t until three grey-black carriages stopped in front of the city hall’s main entrance, and Eman emerged from the carriage, that Paris Municipal Commissioner Levebelle twitched his eyelid and hurriedly beckoned those around him:

“Quick! It’s the Crown Prince!”

Levebelle pressed his black tricorn hat and moved his widely spread legs, driving his body that was close to 200 pounds, and led everyone to run in front of Joseph to bow respectfully one after another, “Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”

The surrounding musicians also snapped to, and began to play their music in a flustered hurry.

Levebelle made his introduction first, and then, pointing towards a middle-aged man next to him with grey-blue eyes and cheekbones so sharp they seemed about to pierce through his skin, said, “Your Highness, allow me to introduce you, this is Viscount Freselle, President of the Paris Chamber of Commerce.”

Upon hearing this, Joseph took a longer glance at the man. From the information he received a while ago, he knew that although Levebelle was the Paris Municipal Commissioner, equivalent to the mayor, the actual foremost authority in Paris was this Freselle. There was no helping it, the government was short of funds and in order to maintain operations, it had to rely on the Chamber of Commerce to finance them, plus the connections of the Chamber of Commerce could solve many problems, so the President of the Chamber of Commerce had become extremely powerful.

Viscount Freselle stepped forward again to bow, “Your Highness, we have prepared a luncheon in your honor. We hope you will grace us with your presence.”

Although Joseph greatly disliked banquets and balls of this era, finding their intricate ceremonies and rules to be outright torture, societal expectations could not be ignored, so he nodded in response:

“Then I thank you all very much.”

In the spacious and luxurious hall of the city hall, servants bustled back and forth, and tables were filled with various precious dishes. Any that cooled were promptly replaced with new ones.

Laughter and chatter flowed amidst the clinking of cups; Joseph responded to the endless flattery from the officials, but his thoughts were preoccupied with the issue of police reform.

“Does His Highness mean to get involved in managing the police?” The stout mayor, surprised, exchanged looks with the President of the Chamber of Commerce and then quickly turned to Joseph with a compensating smile, “Your Highness, you are so noble, how can you deal with petty thieves and murderers?”

The President of the Chamber of Commerce hastily nodded in agreement, “Exactly, and the Police Department is burdened with many trivial matters, which are incredibly tedious.”

His heart was full of complaints, “Good Lord, you were just supposed to be here for a touch of gold, but please don’t take it so seriously. If the police system is thrown into chaos, won’t Paris erupt in rioting?”

Joseph felt somewhat helpless as he was caught up in a back-and-forth argument with the two men when suddenly a woman’s high-pitched voice came from outside the town hall:

“No! Lenot couldn’t possibly have killed himself! You must catch the murderer!”

Her voice turned shrill at one moment and melodious the next, “Lenot was so cheerful, and we were going to get married next month. How could he commit suicide? The case cannot be closed! The murderer is still at large…”

The chubby mayor’s face turned dark as he angrily said, “Why has she come back again?”

Freselle immediately waved vigorously at the guard, “Get her out of here! Don’t you see who’s here today?!”

He then turned to Joseph, with an apologetic smile, “Ah, Your Highness, she’s just a madwoman. Don’t let her affect your mood.”

Joseph looked out the window and asked, “I heard her mention a murderer, what exactly happened?”

Mayor Levebelle hurriedly replied, “A month ago, her fiancé, that is, Viscount Lenot, committed suicide by swallowing his sword. Oh, the case is clear, there is absolutely no problem, but it seems this woman has gone mad, insisting it was murder.”

“She’s been so disruptive that we had to bar her from entering the town hall, but every few days she comes back to shout outside.”

Joseph found it odd and remarked, “Swallowing his sword to commit suicide?”

The thin man sitting to the right of Levebelle indicated his chest:

“Your Highness, it’s when one rests the hilt of the sword on the ground, places the tip in one’s mouth, and then thrusts downward, driving the sword through the back of the neck. It’s a common method of suicide.[Note1]”

Joseph remembered that the chubby mayor had just introduced him—he was Viscount Gizo, the Director of Police Services, the highest-ranking official in Paris law enforcement.

Gizo, seeing that the Crown Prince seemed interested, eagerly recounted the story:

“Over a month ago in the afternoon, a servant of Viscount Lenot came to report his master’s death in his own bedroom. I sent people to investigate, and we found that he had committed suicide by swallowing his sword.”

Joseph frowned, “How can you be sure it was suicide? Was there a suicide note, or had he shown signs of world-weariness before?”

“There was none of that,” Gizo said, “But Lenot used his own sword, and no valuables were missing. There were no signs of a struggle in the room, and he had no other injuries on his body.

“You must understand, Your Highness, Lenot had fought wars in the United States, was over 6 feet tall, and was skilled in hand-to-hand combat. If someone could manage during a clear day, without leaving a scratch on him, to push a sword into his mouth, that person could only be himself.”

At over 1.9 meters, 6 feet was indeed quite towering.

Joseph narrowed his eyes slightly. He had seen similar murder methods plenty of times in detective novels. Without signs or a note of suicide, only the untrained and isolated police of the 18th century would crudely determine such a case as suicide.

He looked at Gizo and said, “No, there is one other kind of person who could do it.”

“Your Highness must be joking,” the chubby mayor said with a laugh, waving his hand, “Do you mean the person could use magic?”

Joseph spoke calmly, “No, he just needs to know how to treat teeth.”

“To treat teeth… you mean a dentist?!”

“Yes, a dentist.”

The people around were suddenly stunned, images forming in their minds—Lenot, obediently opening his mouth at the dentist’s command, then the dentist covering his eyes with the white cloth used during operations, turning around to draw the sword hanging on the wall and effortlessly stabbing it into Lenot’s mouth, with blood spurting out instantly…

[Note1]: Since in 18th century Europe, swordsmanship was esteemed for being “quick and agile,” which led to nobility carrying swords that were both thin and light, making it difficult to cut one’s own throat, they often resorted to the method of swallowing their sword to die. Moreover, this way of taking one’s life allowed the person to maintain a kneeling prayer posture after death, which made it even more favored by the nobility.

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