I am the Crown Prince of France

On the second floor of Schönbrunn Palace, Austrian Foreign Minister Baron Thugut escorted Talleyrand out of the hall, his face beaming with a smile.

"That's about it, Archbishop Talleyrand. The official communiqué will be sent to Paris next week. We are deeply grateful for France's outstanding contribution to defeating the Brabant rebels. Oh, and His Majesty has also instructed us to hold a grand farewell banquet for the French soldiers in Brussels. After that, General Léo will take care of the rest."

Talleyrand calmly nodded, "Please convey my thanks to His Majesty for the arrangements. Long live the Franco-Austrian alliance."

"Long live the Franco-Austrian alliance," Thugut echoed.

As soon as Talleyrand stepped out of the palace, his expression turned grim. He took out a notebook, glanced at a line written inside, and said to a servant, "Take me to 31 Uzberg Street."

That was the residence of Baron Ferrari, a staunch anti-Prussian figure, though his influence wasn't particularly strong. Over the past few days, Talleyrand had already met with the major anti-Prussian leaders, and now all he could do was try to gather as many allies as possible among the anti-Prussian ministers.

Meanwhile, in the VIP room of Vienna's most luxurious brothel, "The Red Boot," Viscount Marquette, a senior officer in the Viennese secret police, was savoring a glass of gin—an infused liquor said to have invigorating effects—after enjoying a sensual service. He squinted drunkenly and signaled to the obese man across from him.

"Today must have cost you a fortune, Mr. Kugel. Rest assured, that matter will be taken care of," Marquette slurred.

Mr. Kugel had indeed splurged on the top-tier package, which cost 80 florins a day. Even Viscount Marquette couldn't usually afford such extravagance.

"Thank you so much, my dear friend," Kugel said, raising his glass. "To Miss Elina."

Elina was the "technician" who had just attended to Marquette.

They both downed their drinks. Marquette, clearly intoxicated, suddenly sat up straight, slapping his forehead. "I almost forgot—I haven't signed the approval yet…"

In Austria, press censorship was overseen by the secret police, and Marquette was the top official in charge of media approvals.

He fumbled with his disheveled clothing, staggering to the door, and shouted, "Erich, bring me my briefcase."

Soon, Marquette signed the standard authorization form and handed it to his aide with instructions. "Take this back to the office immediately and give it to Harper."

"Yes, sir," Erich responded.

He left "The Red Boot," flagged down a carriage waiting across the street, and instructed the driver, "Graben Street."

"Yes, sir," the driver acknowledged, snapping the reins.

But after driving less than a kilometer toward Graben Street, the carriage suddenly turned into a secluded alleyway.

Erich noticed the carriage coming to an unexpected stop and was about to question the driver when the door was abruptly yanked open. Two masked men pulled him out of the carriage.

"Robbery!" one of the masked men growled.

"Let me go! I'm with the secret police—" Erich's words were cut short as a club struck his head, knocking him unconscious.

One of the masked men rifled through Erich's briefcase, pulling out the authorization document and handing it to a short man standing nearby.

"Mr. Baudouin, this must be it."

Baudouin immediately bent over the small desk inside the carriage and began carefully forging Marquette's signature. Ten minutes later, he handed a piece of paper, now bearing Marquette's signature, to the thug.

"All done."

The thug inspected the paper, carefully pocketed it, and then shredded the original authorization document into tiny pieces.

At the Austrian Press Office on the south side of Graben Street, a large group of reporters crowded around, anxiously pleading with the official behind the desk.

"Sir, when will Viscount Marquette return?"

"It's already past 4 PM—if we don't get approval soon, there won't be time to print!"

"Please, just tell us where Viscount Marquette is, and we'll go get him ourselves…"

This was the Austrian press censorship office, and Viscount Marquette was still enjoying his time with a lady at "The Red Boot."

"Everyone, please calm down!" A square-faced secret police officer, clearly frustrated, waved them off.

This was Marquette's assistant, Harper, the deputy responsible for media approvals. Without Marquette's signed authorization, however, he couldn't proceed with the approval process.

Of course, that authorization document had already been torn to shreds by French intelligence agents.

Just then, an unremarkable middle-aged man in a felt hat squeezed through the crowd, winking persistently at Harper.

Harper got the hint and led the man into his office on the second floor.

Once the door was closed, the man in the felt hat handed a slip of paper to Harper.

"Sir, this was specially approved by Viscount Marquette. Please take care of it."

Harper took the note, reading, "I've already reviewed the content submitted by Life and Truth today. Please approve it." It was signed by Viscount Marquette, though there was no personal seal.

Harper eyed the man suspiciously. "Where is the Viscount?"

With a sly smile, the man in the hat replied, "With a certain young lady. Do you need the specific address?"

"Ahem, that won't be necessary," Harper replied, waving off the question but remaining cautious. "Let me see your articles."

"Certainly, sir." The man handed over a stack of papers.

Harper opened the first page and saw the headline: "Victory at Legnica: The Defeat of the Prussian Thugs."

He wasn't surprised; rumors had been circulating that Field Marshal Lacy had won a battle in Silesia, and Legnica was indeed a province in the southwest of Silesia.

The man quickly added, "Our war correspondent just returned with this news at noon. The official announcement should come out tomorrow. This report will help our paper rise to the top."

"Your reporters are quicker than the Marshal's messengers," Harper chuckled, reading further. The article claimed that Austrian forces had killed 4,000 Prussians, captured 1,000, seized a large number of cannons, and advanced the front lines to the northeast of Legnica. According to the current state of the war, Legnica might be fully retaken within the month.

"This is indeed major news." Harper was excited. "It's about time we gave those damn Prussians a good lesson!"

The man in the hat slipped 10 florins into Harper's pocket.

"Please expedite the process, sir."

Not long after, the man exited the secret police building, followed by several other newspaper representatives.

"Are you really willing to sell us the story?" one of them asked urgently.

"Of course."

None of the newspapers had received approval today, except for Life and Truth. The representative from Life and Truth told them that they could purchase the story for 30 florins each.

While the news would undoubtedly be widely duplicated, it was better than missing a print run and potentially damaging their reputation and finances.

By the afternoon, nearly half of Vienna's newspapers were printing headlines about "The Victory at Legnica: The Defeat of the Prussian Thugs."

The next morning, all of Vienna was in an uproar!

(End of Chapter)

Friends, if you want to read chapters in advance, subscribe to my patreon.

Read 20 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/johanssen10