I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 211: The Traditional Art of the British Empire

"Hah, thank you for saving Great Britain a whopping 40,000 pounds!"

Charles James Fox, the most vocal critic of the Whig Party, stood up with a sneer, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But this 'contribution' is far from making up for your and the Prime Minister's strategic failures, which have caused us significant losses in North Africa." He gestured towards the hundreds of MPs seated behind him. "I believe the Tories owe this Parliament an explanation!"

The Tories were the ruling party in Britain at the time. However, their support was not much stronger than that of the Whigs, largely because of King George III's strong preference for William Pitt the Younger, whom he had helped elevate to the position of Prime Minister.

The Whigs had never fully accepted this, so ever since Pitt had taken office, they had seized every opportunity to attack the Tories.

The Duke of Leeds took a deep breath, thinking to himself that this confrontation was inevitable. Fortunately, he had discussed countermeasures with the Prime Minister the day before, so now it was time for him to put on a show.

He subtly glanced at the head of the intelligence department and then raised a hand to cut Fox off.

"Honorable Mr. Fox, before you rush to accuse me, perhaps you should first get your facts straight."

"My facts?" Fox retorted.

"Yes," the Duke of Leeds nodded confidently. "The current situation in North Africa is entirely under the control of the Prime Minister and myself. We received reports months ago and have been aware of French activity in Tunis. Isn't that right, Mr. Butler?"

The intelligence chief immediately stood up.

"That's correct. We identified the French movement months ago."

The MPs began murmuring among themselves.

In reality, the Duke of Leeds and his team had been completely unaware of the French strategy in Tunis until they read about the events in recent French newspapers. But as a seasoned politician, lying was second nature to him.

"Control?" Fox scoffed. "Are you referring to sitting idly by while the French gain massive benefits in Tunis?"

The Duke of Leeds quickly raised his voice.

"No, why would you assume that the French have gained anything? On the contrary, the situation in Tunis presents us with an opportunity I've been waiting for!"

Fox rolled his eyes.

"Did you have a drink before coming here? You're spouting nonsense."

The Duke of Leeds was unfazed, raising his fists and delivering a passionate speech.

"Right now, we have the chance to repay the French for everything they did to us in North America! No one understands better than we do the severe dangers posed by a rebellious colony. Tunis is like a dangerous swamp teeming with crocodiles, and the French are like an inexperienced hunter who has wandered in.

"They only have 3,000 troops there. All we need to do is stir up those beasts, and it will be the end of them!"

An MP named James instinctively asked, "How do you plan to do that?"

The Duke of Leeds spread his hands. "The details of our actions can't be disclosed at this time. You can request clearance from the Prime Minister to learn more."

This was standard practice. The British could obtain the minutes of French cabinet meetings that only a few ministers attended, and it was even easier for the French to gather intelligence from hundreds of British MPs. So, specific plans were never discussed during parliamentary questioning.

Fox shouted, "I'm not interested in the details. I just want to know how long your brilliant Tunis plan will take and what results we can expect."

"Within a year—no, perhaps just a few months—the French will be driven out of Tunis," the Duke of Leeds said with absolute confidence. "Or, the French government will have to pour huge amounts of money into Tunis, eventually bankrupting themselves."

The British MPs grasped the gist—managing a colony was incredibly costly, especially when dealing with insurgencies. There was no profit, and money had to be constantly pumped in. The British had faced this predicament during the American War of Independence, and now it was time for the French to taste a similar bitter experience.

The Whigs finally paused their attacks, with Fox issuing a final warning.

"I look forward to your success. But if you fail to resolve the Tunis issue, I believe you should resign."

The Duke of Leeds smiled easily. "Of course, but that will depend on Mr. Hollis's performance."

George Hollis was the British consul in Tunis and a member of the Whig Party.

Before Fox could respond, the Duke of Leeds added, "Oh, and by the way, to better counter the French in Tunis, we'll need some additional funding. About 300,000 pounds should do..."

...

Southwest of Tunis, Gafsa.

"These bastards!" Hollis, clad in a white turban and pale yellow Arab-style robe, muttered under his breath under the scorching sun. "You squabble for power in London, but you're gambling with my future!"

"Excuse me, sir?" A tall, middle-aged Englishman dressed similarly to Hollis leaned forward from across the open carriage, seeking clarification.

"Oh... I was just saying that fortunately, the Tunisians are wary of Europeans, so it shouldn't be too difficult to convince them to oppose the French."

"Indeed, that's true," the tall man nodded. "And since their guards were just defeated by the French, they're bound to hold a grudge."

"And that new Tunisian Bey, who just came to power, clearly lacks authority. That's good news for us."

As they chatted casually, the carriage bumped along the rough road for about half an hour before finally stopping in front of a domed mansion on the southern edge of the town.

A Berber servant came out to greet them. After receiving the silver coins Hollis offered, the servant eagerly led them inside.

Soon, Hollis was face to face with the local commander of the Tunisian Guard in this area, equivalent to the town's mayor—Oujuz.

Seated on a fine wool rug in the parlor, Hollis exchanged pleasantries with Oujuz in fluent Arabic before getting straight to the point.

"Pasha, the French disarmed nearly 10,000 brave Tunisian Guards outside Tunis. This is an insult to the entire Tunisian Guard! We cannot just swallow this!"

Oujuz nodded calmly, partly in acknowledgment of the several thousand silver coins Hollis had brought.

"Yes, the navy angered them, but they took it out on the Guard. That's just too much!"

"Exactly! That's why we must take revenge on the French!"

But Oujuz quickly shook his head. "How can my men possibly defeat them?"

Hollis reassured him.

"Don't worry. You don't need to fight them head-on. Just ambush French caravans here and there, burn down their factories and houses under the cover of night.

"If the French send troops, you can claim you had no knowledge of it and pretend to agree to help catch the bandits. They'll leave soon enough. With only 3,000 soldiers, the French can't handle all these problems."

Hollis was simply copying the tactics the British had faced during the American War of Independence.

Oujuz, however, still seemed uninterested. "But there's still a lot of risk involved..."

Seeing this, Hollis played his trump card. "To support the Guard's revenge, I can offer you 2,000 riyals in funding."

The Riyal, a gold coin slightly smaller in value than the British pound, was equivalent to about 44,000 livres. Seeing that the Tunisian Guard officer was somewhat interested, Hollis signaled to the British man who had come with him. "This is Mr. Robert. He will come regularly to assess your resistance efforts and will provide you with a monthly fee of 500 to 1,000 Riyals."

The smile on the officer's face widened as he clenched his fist. "I've long been displeased with those Frenchmen! Rest assured, I'll make sure they regret it!"

After leaving the Tunisian Guard officer, Hollis immediately set off for a nearby village to visit a large Berber tribe.

"Honored chieftain, you must not let the French deceive you," Hollis said with a sincere expression. "They claim to be buying land, but I assure you, they won't pay for it.

"Moreover, the French possess a dark magic that allows their farmland to drain the life from nearby lands. If they start farming here, within a few years, your neighboring lands will yield nothing!"

The Berber chieftain, with his light brown skin, frowned. "Are you telling the truth?"

"Absolutely!" Hollis affirmed. "For the future of your tribe, you must do everything you can to drive away the French settlers!

"I understand this may cause you trouble, but a kind Pasha is willing to offer you 200 Riyals to compensate for any losses from conflicts with the French."

"But I heard the Bey has already ordered cooperation with the French…"

"Don't worry," Hollis reassured him. "The Bey's Guard has already been defeated by the French. There's nothing to fear from them."

Before long, the British consul left the Berber tribe and headed to the next town to continue his mission of "stirring the pot."

…

Tunis

The French consul in Tunis, Joann, adjusted his hat as he walked into the Kasbah Palace.

The current Bey, Hajji, greeted him with enthusiasm. "Mr. Joann, your predictions were accurate! The Younes rebels were completely defeated a few days ago, and Koca has pursued the remnants deep into the southern desert."

"Congratulations, Your Excellency," Joann replied, unsurprised.

After the French had cut off Younes' supply of ammunition and funds, the rebels, who were already at a disadvantage in numbers and terrain, had been worn down by Koca in less than a month.

Nearby, Hafsa was beaming with happiness as she directed the maids to set out fruits and drinks. A few days earlier, she had officially married Hajji, and the two were now happily together.

After sharing the good news, Hajji began consulting Joann on various matters related to taxes and official appointments. Lacking personal ability and a political foundation, Hajji relied heavily on the French military to maintain order, with even his palace guards composed of Parisian police academy students. For any significant issue, he turned to Joann for advice.

It wasn't until dusk that Joann finally left the Kasbah Palace, only to be met by the newly appointed immigration officer, Amity, who was approaching with a worried expression.

"Is something the matter?"

Amity quickly tipped his hat in a brief greeting, then said urgently, "Baron Joann, a newly built workshop southeast of Bizerte was burned down, and three people were killed."

Joann frowned deeply. Recently, there had been dozens of attacks on French citizens in Tunis, and these were just the more serious incidents. The actual number of minor, unreported attacks was likely even higher.

"Do we know who did it?"

"Not yet... You know, we are severely understaffed... Oh, and I've heard rumors that the Guard is planning to take revenge on us."

As they continued talking, they reached Joann's residence across the street. Just as they arrived at the door, Amity's assistant rushed up and handed him a letter, forgetting even to salute in his haste. "Sir, it seems a caravan was attacked near Sousse—seven Frenchmen and three Sardinians were killed…"

Joann's expression grew grave. "It looks like we'll need to report this to Paris."

…

Paris

In the halls of Versailles, Joseph listened with a stern expression as Joann briefed him on the situation in Tunis. Due to the escalating situation, Joann had returned to Paris just the day before.

"The Tunisian Guard is threatening to attack all French citizens?" Joseph frowned at Joann. "Have they started gathering troops?"

"No, they haven't."

"Who's leading them?"

"It doesn't seem like there's a clear leader."

"Oh?" Joseph was surprised. "No leader, yet the Tunisian Guard is acting so uniformly? You mentioned earlier that attacks are happening almost everywhere in Tunis."

Joann, looking troubled, replied, "Your Highness, it's not just the Guard. It seems that Berber tribes are also attacking French farmers who are trying to cultivate the land."

"Hasn't the new Bey issued any orders to stop attacks on the French?"

"He… Your Highness, to be honest, his authority only extends to Tunis itself, and that's only because Lieutenant Colonel Berthier's troops are stationed there."

"This situation is becoming troublesome," Joseph thought to himself. It sounded like a full-scale security crisis was looming. But something didn't add up. If the Tunisian ruler had no real authority, and the region hadn't yet experienced any form of national awakening, it didn't make sense for them to spontaneously resist foreign powers.

This suggested that someone was stirring up trouble behind the scenes.

But who? An influential Tunisian Guard officer? Someone from the Ottoman Empire? The British? Algerians?

He rubbed his forehead. Whoever it was, the first priority was to stabilize the situation in Tunis.

After asking Joann some detailed questions about Tunis, the two men arrived at the gilded doors of the meeting hall.

The guards quickly opened the doors for them and stood at attention.

Inside the hall, several cabinet ministers were already murmuring quietly, evidently aware of the situation in North Africa.

Before long, Queen Marie arrived. After the customary greetings, the cabinet meeting focused on the Tunisian issue officially began.

Mirabeau, who was in charge of Tunisian immigration affairs, was the first to speak.

"Clearly, news from Tunis has already spread throughout the country. In the past week, we've seen almost no applications for relocation to Tunis, and even some of those who had already arrived in Marseille are beginning to return home..."

(End of Chapter)

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