I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 225: France's New Province

Tunis City

A group of Berber soldiers, dressed in white robes with dark gray vests studded with metal, their heads wrapped in white turbans, marched down the streets of Tunis. They were escorting hundreds of captured Algerian Janissaries. As they passed between the square, beige houses, large crowds of Tunisians followed them, shouting curses at the Algerian invaders and occasionally throwing trash at the prisoners.

The ambush at Annaba had been a great success. Under the two-pronged attack from the French army, the Algerian Janissaries surrendered in less than an hour. Joseph had intentionally handed over some of the captives to the local Tunisians, parading them through major cities like Tunis and Sousse.

The official narrative was that "Tunis' closest French friends, with the help of the insurgent army, struck down the Algerian invaders." Indeed, the Jemila-led insurgents had assisted by transporting supplies and guarding the prisoners, so they had played a part.

Since Hussein became the Bey of Tunis, Algeria had frequently interfered in Tunisian affairs, often resulting in murder and looting along the way. In addition, Tunisia was forced to pay a hefty tribute to Algeria, which burdened the common people. As a result, Tunisians harbored a deep hatred for Algeria.

When Algeria announced it would send troops to suppress the Tunisian insurgents and restore Ottoman rule, the Tunisian people were enraged. But what they hadn't expected was that the French brothers would defeat the Algerian army before it even entered Tunisia, capturing many prisoners in the process.

News of this victory spread like wildfire, shaking the entire nation. The people, having just overthrown the oppressive Janissaries and now defeating foreign invaders, were filled with pride and self-respect, celebrating their victory everywhere.

Both victories were inseparably linked to the beloved "French brothers."

Joseph seized this opportunity, enlisting Elder Alayi to help spread the word. By now, in the minds of the Tunisian people, the French army had become their closest family and protector.

After a week of being paraded around, 200 Algerian Janissary prisoners were finally brought to the square in front of the Grand Mosque in the city center. The newly appointed chief judge of Tunis, along with several other judicial officials, sat arrogantly behind a wooden table, ordering the prisoners to kneel in neat rows. They then opened their "work manuals" and began to clumsily figure out how to handle the situation.

Yes, after two rounds of nationwide "civil service" exams, Tunisia's administrative and judicial systems had been established based on the French model—from management structure to the use of desks and chairs, everything had been copied wholesale.

Joan had brought over a hundred French administrators to hand-guide these completely inexperienced Tunisian locals in the art of governance. Fortunately, traditional management systems in rural Tunisian tribes required little interference. Only the bustling cities needed actual officials. So after a month, administrative management in central and northern Tunisia was finally up and running, albeit barely.

Joan also had "governing manuals" written up for each official, which is what the judge was now flipping through. The judge took over 20 minutes to figure out what to do next. Meanwhile, nearly a thousand Tunisians stood patiently under the scorching sun, waiting.

Finally, the judge awkwardly proceeded with the trial process. An hour later, no one really understood what he had done, but everyone heard his verdict: "All invaders are sentenced to hang!"

In this era, human rights were nonexistent, especially in North Africa. Facing the people's fury, concepts like defense or appeal were out of the question.

The square erupted in cheers. The crowd loudly praised the judge, their French brothers, and the great victory. They then escorted the prisoners to the execution ground.

The next morning, as Hajji Bey was having breakfast, he heard shouts coming from outside the Qasr al-Khayr Palace.

He turned to his new wife, puzzled. "Are they putting Algerian prisoners on trial again today?"

Hafsa shook her head. "It doesn't sound like it. Besides, they don't usually bring prisoners past the palace…"

As they spoke, a servant hurried over, bowing at the door. "Great Bey, there are thousands of people petitioning outside the palace."

"Petitioning?" Hajji asked nervously. "What are they petitioning for?"

"I'm not sure, my lord," the servant replied, keeping his head down. "But it seems the leader is Hirada Pasha, an internal affairs official."

Hirada was the scholar who had earlier "written" the Analysis of Tunisian Origins. He had successfully secured a position as an internal affairs official in Tunis City during the recent "civil service exams."

Currently, Tunisia's national tax, finance, and personnel matters were still under "military control," and officials for these areas had yet to be appointed. Thus, the mayor of the capital was effectively the highest-ranking official in Tunis.

Filled with unease, Hajji made his way to the palace gates. Only when he saw the French agents, who served as his "guards," did he feel somewhat reassured. It was these French brothers who had stopped the insurgents from killing him last time, allowing him to keep his title as Bey.

The French guards opened the palace gates, and Hajji was immediately met with deafening chants:

"Glorious Province of Tunis…"

"Become a province of France…"

"Return to the embrace of our Roman kin…"

"We want to be with our family…"

Hirada signaled for the crowd to quiet down and then approached Hajji with a respectful bow, handing him a large parchment.

"What... what is this?" Hajji didn't dare take it—his last experience of insurgents storming the palace, ready to kill him, had left him with a lasting trauma.

"It's a petition, Your Excellency," Hirada explained, helping him unroll the parchment. At the top, in Arabic, were the words "Tunis Petitions to Join the Kingdom of France," followed by a sea of signatures and handprints—thousands of them, at least.

"Join France?" Hajji stammered. "How?"

One of the officials who had collaborated with Hirada on the Analysis of Origins stepped forward, raising his voice. "Tunis used to be a province of the Ottoman Empire. Now that we've broken away, we should become a province of the great France!"

Another official chimed in, "Yes! We should be with our Roman brothers forever!"

"Only a powerful France can bring prosperity and strength to Tunis!"

The crowd took up the chant, "Province of Tunis!" "Join France!"

Frightened, Hajji took a step back. From behind him, Hafsa called out, "But what will happen to the Bey if Tunis becomes a province?"

Hirada quickly responded, "We've already asked Consul Joan to seek clarification from the Prince of France. His Highness said he would petition for you to be granted the title 'Duke of Tunis.' You'll keep the Qasr al-Khayr Palace and receive a generous annual pension, just like the esteemed dukes of France."

The scholar beside him added excitedly, "It's much more glorious to be a duke in the great France than a pasha in the declining Ottoman Empire!"

These Tunisian intellectuals had always been pro-French. During the recent "civil service exams," they had secured many positions thanks to their education. Naturally, they were eager for Tunis to become a French province, either out of their Francophilia or to secure their jobs.

When the Tunisian insurgents entered the city, Joan had merely hinted at this to Hirada, who then led the intellectuals in a full-scale push to make Tunis a French province.

The Tunisian lower classes were also more than willing to see this happen. After overthrowing the Janissaries, they had seized considerable wealth from their homes. When Algeria sent an army of 20,000 to "quell the rebellion" and restore Janissary rule, they were determined not to lose their hard-won gains. The last thing they wanted was to give up what they had fought so hard to gain.

They needed the protection of powerful France to keep their wealth. To them, it didn't matter much whose province they became. Their beloved "Roman brothers" seemed far kinder than the Ottomans.

As for the Tunisian military, they needed someone to back them for their role in eliminating the Janissaries. With Isaac, the head of the Intelligence Bureau, as the leader of the insurgents, he naturally supported joining France wholeheartedly.

As for religion, the Ottomans had long practiced a policy of religious integration. Within their sphere of influence, Christianity and Islam had coexisted peacefully. In fact, Hajji's grandfather, Hussein, had been a Catholic before becoming Bey.

After a century of such influence, Tunisians had no qualms about joining a Catholic country.

Cautiously, Hajji took the petition and turned to his wife, Hafsa.

She glanced at the massive crowd and whispered, "Given the conditions set by the Prince of France, it doesn't seem to harm you. And with the title of Duke of France, you won't have to worry about mobs coming to harm you anymore."

Hajji nodded and turned back to Hirada. "Please draft a request, asking the great King of France to accept Tunis as a province of France."

…

While the Qasr al-Khayr Palace was surrounded by petitioners, thousands of soldiers from the Guard Corps were assembled at the Bizerte military camp to attend a medal ceremony honoring those who had distinguished themselves in the Battle of Annaba.

To the solemn and stirring music of Glory and Victory, Joseph, dressed in a white uniform with a sword at his waist, strode to the wooden platform in front of the assembled ranks. He looked over the neat formation and called out, "Today, we are here to honor those who, with unparalleled courage, wisdom, and faith, have written a legendary chapter of valor and earned the highest glory! They will receive medals befitting their honor! Let us salute them!"

With a synchronized motion, the soldiers raised their rifles in salute to the ten or so men waiting to receive their medals on the platform.

Joseph took the medals from the army staff and first presented them to representatives of the fallen soldiers.

He then approached Lefebvre, who had earned the Silver Fleur-de-Lis, and pinned the finely crafted medal to his chest before solemnly saluting him.

The soldiers erupted into waves of cheers.

Lefebvre was of humble origins. In other French regiments, someone like him might at best be promoted to second lieutenant, and that would still require a substantial bribe. Yet here, he not only received the Silver Fleur-de-Lis but was also rapidly promoted to major, commanding a battalion of soldiers.

All of this was due to the military merits he had earned through his bravery in battle.

Birth no longer mattered!

Hope filled the hearts of every soldier because they knew that if they fought bravely on the battlefield, they too could earn such honors—maybe even become generals one day!

This hope alone would elevate their morale above that of any other army in Europe.

Joseph moved on to Davout, pinning the Bronze Fleur-de-Lis to his chest and saluting him as well.

Looking at the young man standing at attention before him, Joseph glanced at Berthier and Lefebvre beside him and sighed inwardly: Napoleon, I've found three of your future marshals, but where are you?

Months ago, Joseph had already asked the Minister of War to help him locate a soldier named Napoleon Bonaparte. According to his memory, Napoleon should have graduated from the artillery school by now and was serving in some unit.

However, the Marquis of Saint-Priest had reported back that there was no such name among the active soldiers.

At first, Joseph didn't think much of it. After all, information in this era was extremely scarce, and armies were private property of the nobles—it was like trying to check someone's bank account. Keeping secrets was the norm.

So, he had Fouché take over the task. But even now, there was still no trace of Napoleon.

Shaking his head slightly, Joseph reminded himself not to worry. After all, Napoleon was still just a 19-year-old. As long as the search continued, he was confident that he would eventually find him.

…

Versailles

Queen Marie skimmed the report on the situation in Tunis, then burst into tears of joy, hugging the palace chamberlain who had brought the news. "Thank God, Joseph is safe!"

She stepped back and crossed herself multiple times. "Thank you, Almighty God, for protecting Joseph!"

She read the report again, this time more carefully, and then excitedly began pacing the room. Finally, she stopped in front of a maid and said, "Prepare a welcome ceremony. My Joseph will be back soon!

"By the way, has His Majesty received this good news?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. A copy of the report was also sent to the King."

"Excellent! Then go fetch two strawberry cakes and drown them in cocoa sauce. I'm going to celebrate!"

Meanwhile, the Marquis of Saint-Véran, who had just arrived in Toulon, received the same news but felt rather deflated. He hadn't expected those 6,000 soldiers to actually defeat the Algerian army. Now that the Prince was safe, he had lost his chance to secure more funds.

Regretting his earlier hesitation, he thought, If only I hadn't delayed for that bit of funding. I could have had the honor of defeating the Algerians and protecting the Prince.

(End of Chapter)

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