Chapter 70: A Strange World (9) "Hm."
"So? Do you think you can make it?"
I kept asking the middle-aged man who looked like he would be strict, solemn, and serious.
"Well… hm. Hey, Étienne! Come here for a moment!"
"What is it, Brother Michel? Why're you calling me?"
When the middle-aged man shouted, another man called Étienne opened a door from deeper inside the manor and came out. The two of them sat side by side and began looking over the rotary press blueprint I'd handed them, exchanging comments.
"It's a design a client brought in—take a look."
"Let's see…"
"Well?"
"Roughly… I can tell how it's supposed to run, but does this actually work? I won't know until we build a small version first."
"Yeah, that's what I figured. We'll only get a clear picture after we build one and tear it apart."
The stern-faced man called Michel muttered with his younger brother for a while, then asked me, "Finance Minister. Could you lend us this blueprint for a few days?"
"Ah, sure. It's not even the original—it's a copy."
"Thank you! We'll contact you again once we've made a prototype. And if you have anything you want to ask in the meantime, I'll give you my card—contact us here and we'll respond right away."
I accepted the card and read it.
"Let's see. 'Montgolfier Paper-Leather Company.' Got it."
"Then please take care on your way, Finance Minister!"
I closed the door, stepped outside, and asked Doctor Guillotin, who was beside me, "Doctor Guillotin, those two are reliable people, right?"
"Of course, Finance Minister. The Montgolfier brothers are very capable fellows. Hahaha!"
Mm. If the good-natured doctor says that, I should trust—
"A steam engine?! That's amaaaazing!"
"A steam engine? Oh, I can't let this pass!"
What did I just hear?
It sounded like some weird noises came from inside the building we just left.
"…"
"…Ahem. Even if those boys look a bit… perverted, they're the technicians who first made it possible for people to ride a hot-air balloon."
As if he'd read the look in my eyes, Doctor Guillotin cleared his throat and said, "Don't worry about it too much, Finance Minister."
"Should I… not?"
Feels like I can't not worry about it.
"You'll be leaving for Austria soon anyway. Think of it as something you've entrusted to someone and go with an easy mind. In any case, it'll take at least two months before a prototype is made and actually runs."
"Hm."
As long as it gets finished, I don't care who handles it. But at least two months to build…
I didn't expect to relive the feeling of waiting two weeks for a building to finish in one of those growth-type mobile games—except in a world without phones.
If this were a game, I'd just dump diamonds into it right now.
…Come to think of it, there's no reason I can't "pay to speed up" here, is there?
Before climbing into the carriage, I looked at Doctor Guillotin and said, "Doctor Guillotin. Would you like to take full charge of the rotary press invention together with Monsieur Lavoisier? The only condition is that you send me a letter once a week in Austria with the development status. Nothing else. And I'll fund you up to 10,000 livres per month."
I had 30,000 livres a month I could use freely—might as well invest that much as "R&D."
"Hoh. As an engineer, it's a welcome and generous proposal, but… do you really need to go that far?"
"I don't know. You could say it's a businessman's instinct screaming that this is guaranteed to succeed.
"And I'm also a bit impatient."
At least in my 21st-century memory, whenever the news showed a newspaper company, rotary presses were roaring away. If I developed that early and raked in money, how sweet would that be?
In a world where people's entertainment was basically nothing but printed scraps, invent a rotary press that could churn out thousands in one go? Yeah, I can't let that pass. This is a business that will rake in money no matter what.
Ha—once again, Guillaume de Toulon is about to make waves in the eighteenth century.
"Hahaha. If you're willing to support it that solidly, then understood, Your Excellency. I, Guillotin, will work hard and build it."
"Welcome back, Boss."
"Ah, Monsieur Pétion. Where is Monsieur Florian?"
"The Vice President worked until six and then left after handing off the shift to me."
"I see. Come to think of it, I didn't really get a proper look because I had to go meet Doctor Guillotin—didn't someone come in earlier for an interview?"
I felt like I saw some strange person wearing a mishmash of noble and common clothing.
Pétion nodded.
"Yes. His name is Donatien Sade. Monsieur Saint-Just conducted the interview, and he passed him."
"Oh, really?"
Saint-Just finally started working.
"Ah! Now that I think about it—before they left, Monsieur Saint-Just and Monsieur Sade wrote something they wanted to show you. If you have time, should I bring it?"
"Sure. I'll read it while I eat dinner, just to kill time. Bring it."
"Yes, understood."
Soon, Pétion brought me a small booklet.
"Thank you. I'll read it."
"Haha, not at all, Boss. Then I'll be in the next room doing paperwork—if you need anything, call for me."
"Sure. Good work."
I grabbed a simple meal, opened the booklet, and started reading the print.
"Th-What is this?! Gyaaaaaaah!"
Saint-Just, Sade—you crazy bastards, you took my money and what the hell did you write?!
The next day, a massive wooden board—ordered on an emergency basis in the name of Boss Guillaume de Toulon—was hung huge on the wall of the Ears of the Nation magazine office.
[12 Things You Must Never Write Under Any Circumstances, and a Manual for Normal Magazine Operations]
January 30, 1790.
Office of the Commander of the Versailles National Guard.
"…Major Antoine Dezé, Deputy Captain of the Guard, was removed from his post? Is that certain?"
Commander Lafayette rubbed his chin and asked his adjutant.
"Yes, Commander. And it appears most of the Royal Guard has been replaced as well."
"…Hm."
Commander Lafayette widened his eyes for a moment, stood, then sat back down again with a short sigh.
Major Antoine Dezé, Deputy Captain of the Guard.
A field-grade officer who was somewhat friendly to the revolution, and a young reformist officer respected by a large portion of the existing guard.
And the king removed that major from his post.
"Commander. This is probably—"
"…Yes. Louis XVII—no, Orléans—seems like he wants to set something in motion."
To the adjutant speaking with a hardened, resolute face, Commander Lafayette nodded.
Lafayette rolled his eyes for a moment, then looked back at the adjutant and asked, "What about the capture of the deserters—soldiers and officers?"
"We've pulled troops from some units and redirected them to the gendarmerie, but most deserters hid in their hometowns, where they know the terrain well, so the searches seem to be reaching their limit."
"Hm."
How many months had it been trapped in this damned situation? Lafayette lamented inwardly and let out a short groan.
Seeing him like that, the adjutant spoke again.
"…Could this be related to the Finance Minister going to Austria?"
"Well—what do you think?"
Lafayette crossed his legs as if to still his trembling leg, and asked.
The adjutant bit his lip, then spoke again.
"…It has to be related, doesn't it? The Habsburg bastards suddenly moving after only watching the situation, and of all people, choosing the Finance Minister specifically to invite—it's strange."
"Hoo… yes. I'm of the same mind."
Commander Lafayette fell silent for a moment, then spoke again.
"…Not good. I've got a bad feeling."
It felt as if the leg that had been hit by British bullets during the American Revolutionary War was aching.
"Even at the Battle of Brandywine—when I took a shot to the leg—I didn't have a feeling this bad."
He uncrossed his legs, covered his face with his hands, and closed his eyes for a moment, then rose from the chair and looked at the adjutant.
"Adjutant, bring me the map of the National Guard garrisons."
"Yes, Commander."
When the adjutant brought the rolled map from the corner and spread it on the table, a map nearly the size of half a person unfurled with a rustling sound, reflected in Lafayette's eyes.
Lafayette took out his baton, scanned the map carefully, then tapped the northeastern border of France with a sharp sound.
"The regiments on the North German border—Alsace, Lorraine—have they been reorganized enough for immediate deployment?"
The adjutant nodded.
"Yes, Commander. Using the profiles provided by the Finance Minister, we've organized most officers as pro-revolution."
"Good. Put Prussia and Hesse aside."
Lafayette withdrew the baton, studied the map again, and tapped the northern coastline with it.
"…Boulogne, facing the Netherlands—how is it?"
"Yes. The Calais Naval Infantry Regiment is stationed there at full strength."
"Good. Put the Low Countries aside, too."
Withdrawing the baton from the Netherlands, Lafayette moved it toward Spain on the western border—then paused.
"Spain… we'll put them aside. Apart from their navy, aren't they not even militia level?"
The baton, hovering in the air, shifted to the southeast and tapped the map again.
"Then what's left is Besançon and Dauphiné."
Next to the southeastern territory his baton indicated, the double-headed eagle of the Holy Roman Empire raised its massive talons.
"But they're an allied nation with a mutual defense treaty—surely the Holy Roman Empire won't invade, Commander?"
"…Of course, they might not. The problem is here."
Following Lafayette's gaze, the adjutant shifted his eyes. Lafayette's baton was tapping Parma and Modena on the Italian Peninsula.
"Parma and Modena—Italy? They're just scholars who make pasta and peddle money, aren't they?"
"As you say, Italy's army is pathetic. What's frightening isn't Italy's army—it's something else."
Lafayette gave the adjutant a bitter smile and moved the baton to the center of France.
"Remember this. On the battlefield, the most frightening thing isn't the enemy in front of you. The most frightening thing is the collapse of our own command structure. Do you know whose daughter the current king's queen is?"
"…If I recall correctly, she was a princess of the Duchy of Modena."
"Yes. You're right."
Pointing the baton at Versailles on the map, Lafayette spoke in a low voice.
"Pull several regiments stationed in the central-south and redeploy them closer to the Italian border. Additionally, strengthen security around Versailles even further."
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