Chapter 105: Shine or Go Mad (9) Once upon a time, in Paris, France, there lived a child named Guillaume. Guillaume was a good child who truly loved small, shiny, round chunks of metal.
—Deputy Robespierre, it has been a while. It's good to see you in Paris. The last time we met was in the Assembly, so it feels like it's been nearly a year.
—This humble one, Maximilien Robespierre, pays his respects to Your Majesty the late king.
Guillaume hated the noisy, frightening outside world, so he decided to dig a small, cozy tunnel where only he and his friends could stay. Yes. A very cozy tunnel.
—Hoho, "late king," you say. Just call me Citizen Louis-Auguste. These days, I find that more comfortable and more to my liking than "We" or "I."
—If that is your wish… understood, Citizen Louis-Auguste.
—Now then, if everyone's finished exchanging pleasantries, shall we begin? Guillaume?
But the bad adults from Versailles eventually found the tunnel Guillaume had hidden away so carefully, and forced their way inside. How tragic. Boo-hoo.
"…Guillaume?"
"Huh? Ah—yes. Sorry. My mind wandered for a moment…"
I finally escaped those political monsters packed into Versailles, only for them to come all the way to my tiny sanctuary—the Ears of the Nation office. What, was this some kind of customer satisfaction service where they came to me in person?
"All right. Let's begin, everyone. Since Father Sieyès is the one who gathered us, how about you start?"
"Understood."
Father Sieyès nodded readily and began.
"First, my personal opinion: sending Orléans to the guillotine could be a grave blunder. Let us look at the roster of states surrounding France."
Father Sieyès tapped the map on the table, point by point, as he continued.
"First, the Holy Roman Empire. It was unstable for a time after this incident, but after Archduke Karl Ludwig used the army to crush the republicans to the last, it is stabilizing again under the leadership of the new Kaiser, Leopold II."
Next was Spain.
"Spain is also a problem. First, Louis-Auguste… excuse me. I cannot quite bring myself to add '-sir.'"
"Hoho. I prefer 'citizen,' but if that is what you wish, then call me 'Archduke.'"
"Hoo. Thank you for your consideration. As Louis-Auguste, Archduke, and everyone here knows, Spain is also a Bourbon dynasty, like France. They will not simply watch the head of someone from the same royal house roll."
Next was Prussia.
"Prussia is currently busy digesting Silesia and other territories absorbed under the previous king, Friedrich, but if we cut Orléans' head and draw the attention of all Europe, they will slip in and try to snatch at least some scraps, somehow."
Father Sieyès pointed at the vast nation at the far end of the map and continued.
"Russia… well. They are at war with the Turks right now, so they cannot send troops to us immediately, but once that war ends, they will certainly send an army with a declaration of war. After Pugachev's rebellion, Catherine II became a firm believer in absolute monarchy. Lastly…"
"Lastly would be England, wouldn't it. Is that not so, Deputy Sieyès?"
"That is correct, Archduke. England is… to be honest, even I cannot quite get a read on them."
After saying that, Father Sieyès tilted his head and shook it side to side.
"Why, Father? If it's England, wouldn't they obviously strike us?"
"…That's what I thought too, but not long ago, Prime Minister William Pitt of the Tory Party—the current ruling party—gave a speech in support of the French Revolution."
"What?"
England—France's one-of-a-kind bully in charge of France, our puppet-master enemy of five hundred years—why would they support us? Shouldn't they be trying to screw us over with that 'gunpowder-bomb' mindset?
"They say, in their own way, that the revolutionary camp took after England's Glorious Revolution, and so on."
"So you're saying that William Pitt gave a supportive speech because he thinks we followed their Glorious Revolution?"
"Foreign Minister Lebrun said as much, Guillaume."
Could it be… what people call nationalistic self-intoxication?
"France, the enemy of five hundred years, trembled and lamented and copied England's Glorious Revolution—the reason why."
Oh, I could run that as the next Forbes article. We just got hit with an import ban in England too—should I hire an English figurehead CEO and create a subsidiary while I'm at it and print it? The name could be… The Sun or Daily Mirror. Thinking about it, that would bring in foreign currency too. A perfect two-for-one.
"I cannot tolerate this! How dare those pretenders and pirate bastards of England stick their fork into France's affairs!"
Citizen Louis-Auguste sprang up, frowning deeply.
"Ahem. In any case, England does not seem particularly hostile to France at the moment, but if Orléans' head is cut off, even if it does not mean immediate war, they will not view us favorably. That concludes the opinion of Emmanuel Sieyès."
Silence settled between the four of us—Deputy Robespierre, Father Sieyès, Louis-Auguste, and me.
"…Then I, Robespierre, will speak now."
The one who broke that silence was Deputy Robespierre, who had not yet obtained the awakening item known as the guillotine.
"Orléans must die."
Damn. He should still be unawakened, and yet that first line was something else. Could you please at least turn on your signal before you merge in?
But contrary to what I wanted, Deputy Robespierre ignored any such thing as a turn signal and kept flooring the accelerator.
"Personally, I oppose the death penalty. With execution, we cannot achieve the fundamental purpose for which we imprison criminals—rehabilitation. However, Louis-Philippe… I do not even wish to speak his name. In any case, that man is different. He betrayed the justice and morality created by the citizens of France. There is absolutely no reason to drag a man who opposed the law and ruled from outside it into the spirit of a merciful law."
Deputy Robespierre paused, moistened his throat with a pre-poured glass of milk, then continued.
"And to build the country we wish to build—a country where all people are respected and have the right to act freely—we cannot apply a merciful law to a cruel man who sought to trample those rights.
If we create such a precedent, then in later generations, someone who rises again to the seat of power will trust that precedent and suppress the bodies, property, and rights of ordinary citizens for his own benefit.
To show Orléans mercy is not a virtue taught by God. It is the ugly mercy of pirates and bandits dividing gold coins among themselves, nothing more than a pardon we hand to future dictators.
So for the future of a free and just country where French citizens will live, Orléans must die. If he does not die, then future citizens will die, and the Revolution—the nation—will die."
That is all. With that addition, Robespierre sat down.
"…Everyone will be spending tonight with their eyes open anyway. Let's take a short break. You all have a lot to think about."
"Fine. Let's do that, Guillaume."
"I will also follow that decision, Finance Minister."
"Yes. I think that is better as well."
Suuup.
Whew.
"This cigarette is bitter."
Was it always this bitter? I didn't know. Seriously.
"…How is it, Guillaume. Not easy, is it?"
"I think I'm starting to dislike Father Sieyès for the first time."
"Hahaha. Is that so?"
Father Sieyès burst into a hearty laugh and, like me, stuck a pipe in his mouth.
"Still, try to understand. If it weren't difficult, why would I call you here?"
"…Tch."
"Instead, I'll get you a box of high-quality tobacco leaves. How about that?"
"…Huh. So you weren't planning to use me for free. Should I call that the one silver lining?"
"Haha. As expected of a merchant—you're very clear about give-and-take."
The two of us stood there, looking up at the summer night sky over Paris, whispering for a long while.
"…Deputy Robespierre is impressive too. Not a single thing he said was careless."
"Is he?"
"Of course. But… Robespierre chases ideals too much. Yes, if Orléans doesn't die, and we grant him a pardon, then in the future some dictator might kill people without a second thought and pursue only his own interests. Isn't that right?"
"That's true."
"Yes. But even if the future is like that, we can't shove the present into a dangerous pit of fire."
"Isn't it just a difference in perspective?"
"It is. But that difference in perspective holds the future of twenty-seven million people living in France. I'll go in now. I'm not young and fresh like you—if I breathe too much night air, even in summer, my body starts to droop."
"Yes. Go in."
Father Sieyès patted my back a few times and went back into the office.
"…Um… are you finished talking?"
"Who… Archduke Louis-Auguste?"
"Haha. I wanted to exchange a few words with you too, since it's been a while."
"Why, all of a sudden?"
Why was this 193-centimeter middle-aged man, closer to fifty than forty, doing this to me?
"Well. I could use this chance to build ties with the Finance Minister who holds this country in his palm. Isn't that so?"
"…Aren't our ties already pretty tangled?"
"Hoho. A young man with no sense of humor—what a shame."
The middle-aged man with a round belly like Winnie-the-Pooh sighed as if he felt sorry for me.
"But, you know… is Robespierre always that cold-blooded? It chills my liver and gallbladder."
"…He's usually even colder than that."
You're reacting to just that? You're too soft, Louis-Auguste.
"Even colder than that? That's horrifying."
"What is it—are your knees going weak because you're imagining yourself in Orléans' place?"
"W-what?! Do I look like a sturdy man who'd tremble over something like that?"
"Then why do you have goosebumps all over…?"
"H-hmm. Ahem. It's because the weather is quite chilly."
It was summer right now.
"Don't worry, Archduke. Deputy Robespierre is extreme, but he's not someone who would pin guilt on the innocent. At least, you won't end up in a situation like, 'Archduke Louis-Auguste, why did you come with only your head'—ah. Wait."
"R-right? Like you said, I'll be fine, won't I?"
"No, be quiet for a second, Archduke."
Why did you come with only your head…
Why…
"Archduke. Let's go in. I have the answer."
"…I trust you don't mean to offer me as a living sacrifice."
No. That wasn't it, so hurry up and go in.
"Let's kill Orléans."
"W-what?! Guillaume, you—!!"
"Hoo. Yes. That's right."
"..."
Seriously, you all need to let people finish speaking.
"And let's not kill him."
"…Guillaume, what do you mean…?"
"Huh?"
"...?"
Looking at the three of them, all of them bewildered, I said it again.
"Kill him, but don't kill him."
Stop looking at me like I'm insane.
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