The man in black turned his head at the words, and when "he" saw the young man's face, he couldn't help but blurt out, "Crown Prince?"
Joseph was also a bit surprised, "It's a lady? You know me?"
"Oh, that, I've seen you before."
Eman quickly pulled the stiletto from the waist of the man in black—although it was almost impossible to use it inside the carriage, it was safer to take it away for the safety of the Crown Prince—then pointed at her mask and gestured to Joseph, asking if he should unveil it.
Joseph shook his head slightly and asked the man in black, "Who are you? Why is the Duke of Orleans after you?"
"I... You can call me Tulip." The woman in black was evasive, then added, "I just went to the Royal Palace and took some things, and the guards went crazy chasing me."
Joseph frowned, "So you're a thief?"
"Strictly speaking, yes," the woman in black said, suddenly sucking in a breath, then she pressed hard on her shoulder, her voice trembling a bit, "But everything I do is for equality and justice."
It was then that Joseph noticed blood seeping through her fingers, "You're injured?"
"A minor wound, it's nothing," the woman in black shook her head, "Now, you can hand me over to that guy Philippe. He should thank you for it."
The Philippe she mentioned was the name of the Duke of Orleans.
Joseph shook his head, "First, tell me your real name. Second, what did you steal?"
"Why should I tell you?"
Joseph didn't want to waste time with her, signaling to Eman, "Eman, please check what she stole."
"Yes, Your Highness. Miss, excuse me..."
"Don't touch me!" The woman in black quickly recoiled, gritting her teeth, "Fine, I'll tell you. I took some promissory notes and contracts from the document room of the Royal Palace."
"Promissory notes? Contracts?"
"Yes, belonging to Mr. Lenoir and his partners," she said, then took another breath, obviously in pain, but went on, "The harvest hasn't been good these past few years, their wine cellar has been having financial difficulties, so they borrowed money from Philippe... Now that they can't pay back temporarily, Philippe wants to take their wine cellar and houses, land!"
"Mr. Lenoir's son is also seriously ill, and if the Lenoir family loses everything now, he will surely die! Oh, and those who work in the wine cellar, they too will lose their jobs, with no money to buy bread."
Joseph touched his nose, feeling that paying back debts was only natural, but the way she spoke it sounded as if Lenoir had suffered a great injustice and persecution.
However, the idea of causing trouble for the Duke of Orleans didn't bother him at all.
"All right, so you've sneaked into the Duke of Orleans' document room just to take a few promissory notes? Didn't you take anything else with you, like evidence of his collusion with foreign nations or corruption and illegal dealings?" Joseph sighed regretfully, and with this "Tulip" nickname, she seemed like a typical adolescent.
"Tell me who you are, and I may consider letting you go."
The woman in black was taken aback, "Really?"
Remembering the scene when she saw the Crown Prince helping homeless siblings outside the Paris Angel Store, the woman in black squeezed out a smile, "Indeed, your heart is still not so... cough—okay, my name is Sorel. Anna Sorel."
Eman quickly searched his memory and said to the Crown Prince, "Your Highness, she's the sister of Viscount Ferez."
Joseph was somewhat amused: a noble from the Palace of Versailles, in the name of "upholding justice," donned a garb of night to steal from the Royal Palace late into the evening...
He heard the shouts of the guards approaching from a distance and turned to give Eman a look. The latter immediately pushed the door open and got out of the carriage.
Just as the carriage moved a few steps, it was stopped by two squads of fully armed guards, front and back.
Eman stepped forward to meet them and shouted, "What are you doing? This is the carriage of the Crown Prince!"
The captain of the Royal Palace guards recognized him and hastily bowed in salute, "Count Eman, we are apprehending a thief..."
"I haven't seen any thief. Alright, move aside." Eman waved his hand, "Don't delay His Highness's journey."
Seeing that Kesode arrived with the Crown Prince's personal guards, the guards dared not say more and signaled their subordinates to make way for the carriage.
A few carriages then sped past and had gone a good distance when, turning into a small alley, Joseph instructed them to stop.
He gestured towards the carriage door and asked Soleil, "Are you sure your wound is alright?"
"Thank you for your concern, it's nothing serious."
Soleil was about to step out with her long legs when she suddenly remembered something and turned back, "Your Highness, as a token of my gratitude for helping me out of trouble, I can tell you something.
"Today at the Royal Palace, I overheard a conversation between Philippe and the British ambassador to France; it seemed to involve you."
"Oh?" Joseph's eyes lit up; he hadn't expected an unexpected gain.
"Philippe said he hoped the British would allow Necker to serve as a financial advisor, involved in some negotiation that you proposed. And he mentioned that it would be best to marginalize Archbishop Brienne, letting Vilran and Necker lead. However, the British didn't seem to agree.
"Oh, Philippe also mentioned that the investment of 15 million livres in England by his banks had been secured, and now there are a few more banks hoping to invest another 10 million livres in England's automated looms."
Having finished speaking, she turned to get out of the carriage and, holding her wound, bowed her knee to Joseph, "My sincerest thanks once more, Your Highness. Additionally, I ask you to keep this confidential."
Eman handed her stiletto back to her. The girl took it and clipped it to her side, nodded in thanks, and then, twisting her slender waist, darted off like a black cat and vanished into the night.
Joseph smiled, not expecting that there were actually self-appointed heroes in this era, seeking to administer justice single-handedly, and it was a young girl at that.
Once the carriage started moving again, he recalled the words of Soleil, and a chill flashed in his eyes. These banks, using France's capital to help the British advance the industrial revolution!
A full 25 million livres, of which more than half was probably earned from the interest on the debts of the French Government. It seemed the financial circles needed a thorough reorganization as well.
Before long, the convoy arrived at the office location of the Industrial Planning Bureau in Paris.
Joseph hurried into the small building, only to find it still somewhat disordered since they had only started moving in the day before.
He went to the director's office at the far end and immediately saw a neat stack of files on the desk. These were the documents on France's industrial situation he had asked his assistant to compile; he hadn't expected them to arrive so soon.
He suddenly laughed and shook his head, realizing that despite being in charge of industry in France, on the journey he had been pondering over grain matters.
Joseph sat down in the chair and started to flip through the files. Eman busied himself by bringing over a candlestick with five candles to provide more light and softly ordered a servant girl to prepare a cup of tea.
After reading just over a dozen pages, Joseph's brows were already tightly furrowed.
In just last year alone, in Lyon, textile products valued at over one million livres had backlogged. Nearly a hundred textile workshops closed down, leading to more than three thousand workers losing their jobs...