I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 213: Laying the Lines, Casting the Net

Ottoman Empire. Constantinople.

Sayyid walked dejectedly through a line of bowing guards on either side, glancing back at the Topkapi Palace behind him, feeling even more forlorn. Just moments ago, the Sultan had appointed him as a special envoy to "inspect" Tunis.

A few years ago, such a position would have been highly coveted—being the Sultan's envoy to a distant province like Tunis usually meant lavish hospitality and a generous "travel allowance" upon departure.

However, this mission was destined to be different, devoid of such perks.

The Empire was in dire straits with the war at Ochakov. Potemkin's Russian forces were pressing hard, threatening to capture this crucial Black Sea fortress at any moment. After the previous disaster at the Battle of Fidonisi, the Empire found itself in an extremely precarious situation, with its finances and military severely strained.

Amidst this turmoil, a coup had erupted in Tunis. The Empire's appointed Pasha, Hamud Ali, had been killed, and his nephew, Haji, had declared himself the new ruler without following the customary procedure of seeking the Sultan's confirmation. This affront to the Empire's authority could not be ignored.

In this context, the Sultan chose Sayyid to go to Tunis.

Sayyid sighed. He had to finance the mission himself, without any support from the Empire. According to tradition, if he failed to make Haji apologize to the Sultan and request the Pasha title, he would likely be executed for "incompetence" and "dishonoring the Empire."

As he was helped into his sedan chair by a servant, Sayyid mentally calculated his wealth—he had about 30,000 sultani coins. He wondered if that would be enough to "persuade" Haji.

How ironic it was, he thought, that a Sultan's envoy had to bribe a provincial Pasha.

United States. Philadelphia.

Outside Independence Hall, a crowd of two to three thousand citizens were enthusiastically chanting slogans and waving to the legislative building.

Hamilton stood by a second-floor window, satisfied with the scene outside, reflecting that the $200,000 spent on this had been well worth it.

The news had arrived yesterday from the Mediterranean: the American fleet, with help from the French and Dutch, had eradicated the Barbary pirates of Tunis, greatly improving the safety of Mediterranean trade routes.

As the congressman who had strongly advocated for the special funding to combat the pirates, Hamilton had gained a significant boost in political capital.

Madison, another member of the Federalist Party, approached and, gesturing toward the crowd outside, joked, "Hamilton, you're a legendary hero in Philadelphia now! 'The Pirate Judge,' they're calling you."

Lowering his voice, he added, "At this rate, you might even have a shot at the presidency."

"Ah, you're exaggerating," Hamilton replied with a smile, though the title "Pirate Judge" did resonate with him.

The navy had reported that the French had captured over a thousand pirates and offered to sell them to the U.S. for $2,000 each. That was enough to buy five strong male slaves, but the fleet's commander had deemed the price too high and declined.

Hamilton shook his head—what a fool. He should have bought a hundred or so pirates, publicly tried them, and then had them hanged. That would have solidified his reputation as the "Pirate Judge."

He turned to Madison and said, "I'll be submitting a funding proposal to Congress for purchasing Barbary pirates. I'll need your support."

The Netherlands. Amsterdam.

Sir Joseph Yorke, the British Ambassador to the Netherlands, exited the parliament building with a grim expression. At the just-concluded States General, the Dutch had not condemned France's actions in North Africa as Britain had hoped. On the contrary, they issued a statement claiming that free trade in the Mediterranean had been better protected recently, thanks in part to Dutch contributions.

Yorke muttered curses under his breath. Everyone knew that the Dutch were merely assisting the French; this was clearly a show of support for France.

Though the Dutch had been cowed by Britain, they still resented the British arrogance. Any opportunity to needle Britain was something they welcomed.

Yorke suddenly recalled a rumor he had heard a few days earlier—the Dutch East and West India Companies were planning to merge and accept French investment to form the "United East India Company." This matter needed to be verified immediately, and if true, he had to do everything possible to prevent it. The Low Countries were a strategic "beachhead" for the British Empire and could not be allowed to slip away.

…

Onboard the Avant, Joseph smiled as he read through An Analysis of the Origins of Tunisia.

Mr. Saint-Pierre's writing was impeccable. He had skillfully woven together historical facts, legends, and even myths, creating a vibrant narrative…

No, it was a well-documented history of Tunisia.

He handed the manuscript to Isaac, the "expert on North Africa," asking him to review it. If everything was in order, it would be translated into Arabic and Berber, then mass-printed. To expedite this, Joseph had even brought a printing press and craftsmen aboard the ship.

The next day, the fleet arrived at Tunis harbor.

Berthier and a group of officers had already gathered at the dock to greet them. However, since Joseph had requested that his identity be kept secret, there were hardly any soldiers present.

Once the landing boat was docked and secured, Berthier and the others saw an exaggeratedly long gangplank extended from the ship. Then, the Prince appeared in their view.

After a simple welcoming ceremony, Joseph walked down the 30-meter-long gangplank and climbed into a carriage that had been unloaded from the ship.

Berthier, puzzled by the sealed, pointed vehicle, pulled Croxall aside to ask, "What's this about…?"

Croxall shrugged helplessly, whispering, "The Prince promised the Queen he would stay on the ship. So, well, that's a boat… on wheels."

Berthier: "…"

Half an hour later, the convoy reached the outskirts of Tunis. Joseph immediately noticed a large number of tents, likely over a thousand, set up in the open area by the main road.

Judging by the flags around the camp and the soldiers' attire on patrol, these were Tunisian Guards.

"What's going on?"

Seated across from him in the "boat," Berthier quickly explained, "Your Highness, these are the troops under Koja, over 12,000 men. After the campaign against Eunice's rebels ended, they returned to Tunis. I was concerned they might cause trouble, so I had them camp outside the city."

Koja had heard about how the French corps had broken through the 7,000-strong Tunisian Guards' defenses in barely an hour. Although those were hastily assembled troops, he still didn't dare provoke the French and obediently stayed outside the city.

Berthier added, "However, these Tunisian soldiers are used to living comfortably and constantly complain about wanting to return to their homes in the city. Oh, they usually train only once every three days and don't stay in the barracks the rest of the time."

Joseph had an idea and asked, "So, the most capable Tunisian Guards are here?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Joseph smiled slightly, "Then let them go home."

Berthier quickly interjected, "Your Highness, last week, Mr. Prosper led a group mixed in with a French caravan and successfully repelled an attack. The captured bandits turned out to be Tunisian Guards from north of Kef.

"Many pieces of evidence suggest that the previous attacks on French citizens were likely the work of the Tunisian Guards.

"If we let these thousands of Guards into the city, they might…"

"It's alright," Joseph said calmly. "To prevent another assassination attempt on the Bey, let them store their weapons in the armory before entering the city.

"Also, increase the number of Berber police officers and strengthen patrols. There shouldn't be any problems."

Berthier hesitated but then nodded, "As you command, Your Highness."

The following morning, Joann arrived at Joseph's temporary residence south of Tunis with two men—one tall and one short.

The taller man had a typical Arab appearance but dressed in a European style. The shorter, plump man was clearly French but wore a turban and a loose robe.

As they entered under Emmon's guidance, they noticed the wooden floor in the room was arranged in the shape of a ship.

Joann, now accustomed to this, stepped forward and bowed, "Sir, Mr. Agathon and Mr. Moore are here."

He then introduced the men, "This is Mr. Joseph."

After the customary greetings, Joseph followed local customs and invited the two to sit on the carpet. He ordered servants to bring drinks and snacks, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then got to the point: "I'd like to use your channels to transport some special items to various places in Tunis."

Agathon, who had previously helped the French police infiltrate the Kasbah Palace, was a high-ranking member of the French Tunisian Chamber of Commerce, with extensive contacts and resources in the area.

The man next to him, Mr. Moore, was his local Arab partner.

Agathon, aware of Joseph's high status and authority in Tunis, asked politely, "What exactly would you like us to transport?"

"Weapons and ammunition," Joseph replied without hesitation. "And some silver coins."

Agathon and Moore exchanged a nervous glance, their expressions tightening.

"Sir, you know that Tunis is quite chaotic these days. If these items are hijacked…"

"I'll assign guards to protect you. While the numbers won't be large, they'll be more than enough to handle anything short of a full-scale attack by the Guards. And rest assured, the compensation will be very generous."

Seeing them still hesitant, Joseph dangled a larger carrot: "Oh, and this matter is of great interest to the royal family. If you succeed, I can ensure you'll have a place among Parisian high society."

Agathon's eyes lit up. These French merchants in "barbaric lands," no matter how much money they made, were still scorned by Parisian nobles as mere upstarts. Their greatest dream was to become part of the true French elite. Who wanted to spend their whole life in North Africa?

He immediately nodded firmly, "Rest assured, no matter how many weapons… I mean, goods, I guarantee they'll all reach their destination on time!"

"And you can avoid detection by the Guards?"

"That's basic, sir. I know exactly how to bribe those greedy scoundrels. And I can mobilize the Chamber of Commerce's resources. Even if we get caught, a little money will get everything back."

"Excellent, Mr. Agathon! Please allow me to express my heartfelt thanks on behalf of His Majesty."

…

Suburbs of Tunis.

Inside a typical two-story Arab house, several well-dressed individuals were excitedly passing around two small booklets.

The title on the cover read An Analysis of the Origins of Tunisia.

A bearded middle-aged man vigorously pointed to a page, exclaiming, "Chelebi Hirada is absolutely right! We are descendants of Rome, with a glorious history and noble blood!"

"Chelebi" was a term of respect for renowned scholars, and Hirada was a scholar with significant influence in Tunis.

Another person chimed in, "These historical facts show that we share common roots with France, Spain, and other countries. It's entirely possible for us to integrate into the advanced European civilization!"

"Look here, Chelebi mentions that many in France believe we are their long-lost kin!"

The bearded man turned a couple of pages and said solemnly, "Damn the Ottomans for severing our ties with our Roman homeland, causing Tunisia to decline and fall into ruin!"

Joseph hadn't initially expected there to be so many Francophiles in Tunis.

But it wasn't surprising. With so many French merchants conducting business in Tunis, showcasing their enviable fashion, wealth, and confidence, not to mention France's power, it was easy for Tunisians to develop an admiration for France. In a time when national and ethnic identities were still weak, it was natural for some Tunisians to become Francophiles.

Joseph's original plan was simply to highlight a common ancestry between France and Tunisia. He didn't expect many Tunisians to believe it; if 10% were influenced, that would be enough to smooth his plans.

However, his "shared origins" theory had found a surprisingly enthusiastic audience, especially among Tunisian intellectuals. No one questioned the validity of the evidence presented; they readily accepted the conclusion.

Just as in later times, if an American scholar were to "prove" that Filipinos shared common roots with Americans, the Filipinos would likely embrace the idea.

(Note: At this time, North Africa was mainly inhabited by Berbers, Arabs, and Ottomans. The latter two groups were typical Caucasians, with little difference in appearance from Europeans. Even Berbers, with their slightly tanned skin, had long intermingled with Caucasians and looked like Europeans who had spent a bit too much time in the sun.)

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