Life of Being a Crown Prince in France Chapter 355

Chapter 355: Chapter 275: Disintegration of the Indigenous Tribes

Marquess of Wellesley revealed a faint smile, “Hmm, that is very much in accordance with the habits of the Ottoman People.”

Lord Talmothes said anxiously, “But, my lord, your North African strategy is to pincer Tunisia, and if the Ottomans don't act…”

The British Foreign Minister nodded, “Not just them, the Moroccans are also likely to just watch, since they can get our support either way.”

“How can this be?!”

Marquess of Wellesley signaled for him to remain calm, “We still have Ben Guerir, oh, he's Pasha now.

“As long as you command him, he will be very happy to raid Tunisia.”

Ben Guerir had launched the coup with massive British aid. This included funds, weapons, and British personnel.

Now, in Ben Guerir's base, at least over thirty percent are Tripoli officers propped up by the British. They could have a huge impact on Ben Guerir's decisions.

At the same time, raiding Tunisia is politically correct in the Ottoman Empire – it is a “rebellious province” that openly betrayed the Sultan and must be severely punished – hence Ben Guerir's soldiers would hardly object. In fact, most of them are quite willing to undertake such lucrative endeavors.

Marquess of Wellesley continued, “If the French people don't handle it, the People of Algiers will also be encouraged to raid Tunisia from the west, since they have often done so in the past.”

Lord Talmothes suddenly understood, “If the French people attack the Tripoli army, then the Moroccans must launch a diversionary offensive against Tunisia, according to our agreement. Then Ben Guerir can simply pull back to the City of Tripoli to stand firm.”

Marquess of Wellesley, listening to the sound of heavy sails unfolding above, walked towards the oriel window and watched as the water slowly receded, “I do hope the French people can take Tripoli City in one fell swoop; those fellows from the Whig Party would then have no more excuses to prevent our fleet from intervening in Mediterranean affairs.”

The Maghreb diplomatic envoy added, “Moreover, this will cause serious conflict with the Ottoman People, and we could even help transport more Ottoman troops to Tripoli to fight the French.”

Marquess of Wellesley turned back to give him an approving look, “You have a deep understanding of the Mediterranean situation; I believe that North African affairs can be entirely entrusted to you.

“As for me, I can devote more energy to the Low Countries and the situation in Denmark.”

Tunis City.

Joseph was escorted by the Guard and boarded the carriage with some helplessness.

With such a commotion in Tripoli, the news could not have failed to reach the Palace of Versailles. Afterwards, Queen Mary, somehow informed that her son had gone to the “Domestic Province” on the other side of the Mediterranean and a coup had erupted in the neighboring country, became immediately anxious and dispatched a Court Official to recall the Crown Prince to Paris.

Although Joseph really wanted to stay and command the response to the British open secret, he still had to listen to his mother…

The carriage started slowly, and he picked up the documents sent from Paris, casting a final glance at the distant Ksar Hellal Palace.

The palace's dome glowed under the sunlight, as beautiful as a fairytale castle.

A sudden idea crossed Joseph's mind. He signaled to stop the carriage and called Joan and Xilada over, asking, “Would you like to live in Ksar Hellal Palace? I mean, quite freely, with the court providing meals and lodging and daily balls and feasts.”

“You must be joking,” Joan said with a smile, playing along, “That's Haji Bey's residence.”

But Xilada replied with a smile, “But if such an opportunity really existed, no one would refuse it.”

Joseph then asked, “Even if it means giving up on the pursuits you are currently focused on, you'd be willing to go?”

Xilada said, “If you can enjoy such luxury and comfort, what else is there to let go of?”

“I think so too,” Joseph nodded, looking towards Joan, “With that, the issue of tribes not being governed should be resolved.”

The latter was immediately overjoyed, “Your Highness, what should we do?”

“Have you been to the Eden Amusement Park in Paris?”

“Ah?” Joan was a bit slow to respond, and after a moment he nodded and said, “Yes, Your Highness, I took my wife there once.”

“With a budget of 150,000 livres, could you build a similar amusement park at the Ksar Hellal Palace? Oh, half the size will do.”

“I will do my best to fulfill Your Highness's command,” he said.

“Then invest another 100,000 to 200,000 livres to expand the Ksar Hellal Palace. Build more facilities for entertainment and enjoyment.”

“I am somewhat confused by your meaning, Your Highness.”

Joseph gave him a meaningful smile, “You seem to have forgotten how to deal with these tribes; our Sun King had long ago provided the answer.”

“Invite the tribal chiefs and the actual power holders to the Ksar Hellal Palace, bestow upon them noble titles—oh, I'll have Queen Mary issue a decree for you.”

Joseph glanced towards the direction of the Ksar Hellal Palace, “After that, entertain them with the most luxurious banquets and balls, give them the finest pleasures, all expenses paid by the finances of the Tunisian provinces.”

“Tell them that nobility must stay in luxurious places like the Ksar Hellal Palace to showcase their noble status. To get closer to the Bey is to truly be above the rest.”

“You should know what to do next, just follow the Sun King's example.”

Upon hearing this, Joan's eyes widened in shock, and after a long while he murmured, “Can this… really work?”

Joseph patted his shoulder, “It all depends on whether you can make the tribal chiefs addicted and unable to extricate themselves. Oh, if that doesn't work, guide public opinion to make those chiefs living in the Ksar Hellal Palace look down on their peers who stay with the tribes.”

Swallowing, Joan realized that the Crown Prince's plan might cost more than 300,000 livres, but it was far more economical than sending troops to punish them—and it wouldn't offend the major tribes.

He touched his chest in a heartfelt salute, “Your Highness, rest assured. In half a year—no, four months, I will definitely collect the tribes' taxes!”

If he couldn't collect the taxes when all the tribal chiefs and main power holders were absent from their tribes, then he really would have no face to continue in his position.

Eastern Tunisia, Djerba Island.

More than twenty sailboats were anchored outside the harbor, simply because the dock here was too small—previously a forward base of the Barbary pirates, it was never seriously developed, so only three ships could dock at a time.

On the pier, thousands of ragged-looking individuals crowded together, craning their necks to look at the ships and occasionally letting out anxious calls of urgency.

They were once the invincible Tunisian Guard, and now, they all longed for a chance at survival.

Those ships could take them to faraway New Zealand—where there were plenty of farmlands to fill their bellies. They had had enough of starving on this broken island.

Chapter end

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