After an entire morning of Cabinet meetings, the ministers all showed signs of exhaustion.
Just as Queen Mary was about to announce a recess to continue after lunch, Brian interrupted, "There is one last issue."
The queen silently sighed in her heart and, just as she had lifted herself a half inch from her seat, she sat back down again.
Brian looked at Mono, "Count Mono believes that considering the dire state of industries such as textiles, steel, and glass, there should be a specific entity managing these industries to try to turn the situation around."
Queen Mary was too tired to ponder and directly asked the Chief Minister, "Archbishop Brienne, what do you think we should do?"
They had already discussed this matter. Brienne immediately said, "Your Majesty, I suggest setting up an Industrial Planning Bureau, dedicated to managing the above-mentioned industries. This way, Count Mono will no longer need to handle these matters and can save his energy to better oversee news censorship."
The queen thought it didn't seem like a big deal and nodded, "Then, whom do you think should be in charge of this department?"
Joseph had been waiting for these words and stood up, "Your Majesty Queen, please entrust it to me. Hmm, this should be a good opportunity to gain some experience."
The Duke of Orleans looked puzzled at the British ambassador to France, "Are you saying you've already communicated with the Crown Prince about trade negotiations?"
"Indeed," Hartley nodded with a smile.
"Then, do you know what he said during the Cabinet meeting?" The Duke of Orleans scoffed, "He wants England to lower the import tariffs on wine from France to below 10%, haha, he must be joking..."
Hartley hesitated for a moment but still told the truth, "Your Grace, to my knowledge, the British Parliament has in principle agreed to these terms and asked me to finalize the negotiation dates with your country as soon as possible."
The Duke of Orleans was stunned, "How could you agree to such terms?"
As he spoke, suddenly from outside the door came the guard's shout, "Catch him! He's running that way!"
"Send a few men to block him in the corridor! God, he's as slippery as a squirrel!"
"Careful! His swordsmanship is very formidable..."
The butler hurried in through the door, immediately locked it behind him, then, addressing the Duke of Orleans, he patted his chest, "My lord, a thief has snuck in. The guards are in pursuit. You are safe here."
The Duke of Orleans frowned slightly but was not surprised. Many kinds of people visited the Royal Palace every day, and it was easy for thieves to blend in. However, he was curious; there had been such a commotion, and yet the guards had not caught the thief.
Soon after, a guard entered breathlessly and reported back to the butler.
The latter hurriedly told the Duke of Orleans, "My lord, it seems the thief has stolen something from your document room and has just fled the Royal Palace."
"This damned scoundrel!" The Duke instantly looked gloomy. The document room contained many important papers, and it was heavily guarded—how could it have been breached by a thief?!
He immediately gave an order, "Increase the guards, we must catch him!"
Shortly after, over a hundred fully armed guards poured out of the Royal Palace, disappearing into the last rays of the twilight sun.
Five carriages traveled swiftly along the wide cobblestone roads of Paris Saint Honoré Street.
This was the Crown Prince's "moving" convoy.
Yes, Joseph found that after taking over industrial management, there was just too much to do. If he were to travel back and forth between Paris and the Palace of Versailles every day, it would waste a tremendous amount of time.
So he simply bought a house in the Paris Louvre District to serve as the office location for the "French Industry Planning Bureau." He then moved his personal and office supplies over, ready to reside there permanently.
In the carriage, Joseph was silently pondering how to quickly secure a large "grain fund."
He had roughly calculated that, with a 30% grain shortfall, even if grain prices remained stable, he would need to purchase 60 million livres worth of grain to barely make it through 1788.
This did not even include the cost of building granaries and other expenses such as losses.
As for 1789, it would likely be difficult to acquire grain from abroad either, given the global climatic anomalies, with widespread famine from Europe to Asia.
And if the problem of famine was not well addressed, there would only be one path left for the starving people...
Joseph first thought of loans, but given the French Government's current financial reputation, getting such a large sum of money in a short period would be extremely difficult. And even if a loan could be secured, the interest would certainly be frighteningly high.
Issuing public bonds... Forget it, the Finance Minister would have sold any saleable bonds long ago, leaving none for himself.
Earning money from new technologies or the like was out of the question, given the lack of time to earn such an amount.
Therefore, he needed to make quick and substantial money...
While his brain was operating at overcapacity, he suddenly heard the distant sound of gunfire, followed by noisy crowds, and the speed of the carriage immediately slowed.
After a little while, a guard reported outside the carriage window, "Your Highness, it seems they're catching a thief up ahead."
"Catching a thief? And they fired so many shots?" Joseph was somewhat surprised, "Is it a band of thieves?"
"No, Your Highness," the guard said, "It's said to be just one person."
"One person causing such a commotion?" Joseph asked again, "Is it the police who are making the arrest?"
The guard shook his head, "It's the Royal Guard from the Royal Palace, Your Highness."
The Duke of Orleans's men?
Several more shots rang out in the distance, and Eman hurriedly instructed the coachman to retreat, staying away from trouble.
Just as the convoy had turned into a side alley, a shadow suddenly leapt lightly from the rooftop to the right.
The shadow slowed down by pushing against window ledges, and seizing the moment when a carriage passed in front, suddenly smashed open the carriage window and leaped inside like lightning.
"He" braced himself against a small wooden table in the carriage to quickly regain balance. At the same time, "he" confirmed by the candlelight that there were only two people inside the carriage, one of whom was an unthreatening youth.
"He" was incredibly swift; as soon as "his" feet were set, "his" right hand had already drawn a short knife from "his" waist, slashing towards the blond man inside the carriage.
"He" didn't intend to kill but was planning to use the knife to hold the man hostage in order to threaten him to break out of the encirclement.
However, as "his" knife had barely swung an inch, a flash of cold light shone in the man's hand, and a short sword was already pressed against "his" throat.
The blond man said in a stern voice, "Don't move, or you'll lose your life!"
The shadow paused, and the short knife was snatched away by the blond man.
The blond man was about to call out when the youth sitting opposite him raised his hand to stop him. The youth then asked the intruder in black, "The people from the Royal Palace were chasing you just now, weren't they?"