Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Half a month later.

Lucian Buonaparte, Napoleon's younger brother of just 17 years, hurried back to Corsica from Paris to participate in the by-election for Corsican deputies—Congress suddenly had 14 seats to fill, for which new deputies were to be elected.

Without any surprises, Lucian was elected by a wide margin as the deputy for the Sota District. Even though he had scarcely ever visited that place, with the vigorous campaigning by his second brother and the support of Governor Count Butafuoco, being elected was not a difficult task.

In fact, nearly all of the 14 by-election seats fell into the hands of those designated by Napoleon and the Governor.

…

On the second floor of the Tuileries Palace.

Joseph, looking at the report on the situation in Corsica that Brian had just delivered, couldn't help but tiredly rub his temples.

He knew Napoleon was capable of and dared to stir up trouble, hence he had assigned him to Corsica to solve problems, but he hadn't anticipated that it would almost lead to a seismic event.

Napoleon's actions were nothing short of a warlord's disdain for national laws! Given slightly more power than he had in history, he had made a commotion several times larger than anything in the past.

Although he did indeed solve the problem of Corsican separatism to some extent, he also damaged the image of the French Government there.

Joseph sighed and instructed Brian, "Please draft a reprimand—Lieutenant Colonel Buonaparte has besieged the Parliament Hall in a most inappropriate manner and must be disciplined. Revoke his position as the acting Commander of the Corsican garrison. However, as we currently don't have a suitable replacement, he will still be in command of the garrison troops."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Joseph couldn't help but smile after speaking. He considered himself to be the first person in history to discipline Napoleon, an unimaginable scenario in the previous timeline.

He hoped to use this as an opportunity to temper Napoleon's arrogant and stubborn character, so he might wield his capabilities more effectively in the future.

Joseph then turned his thoughts to the current situation in Corsica. Without destroying the old, the new cannot be established; now that the old patterns had been broken, it was time to start building. As long as the people there could live in peace and happiness, who would want to risk their lives for secession?

But that place had neither the resources nor the agriculture for easy development.

After some careful thought, he quickly recalled a small island from later eras, whose model could be adopted.

He then looked at Brian and said, "Archbishop, I'm thinking of turning Corsica into a tourist haven. What do you think?"

The Chief Minister pondered for a moment and nodded, "I think it's entirely possible to give it a try, Your Highness. I've been there, and the sunshine is very pleasant. The taste of the seafood and ham is also quite good. It's just that the local residents don't seem very gentlemanly."

"Then the Church will need to take great pains to educate them," Joseph said. "When you return, collaborate with Mr. Bailly to make a plan. It should include establishing regular ferry crossings from Marseille to Calvi, with the government subsidizing some of the fares to attract more visitors to the place.

"In addition, new restaurants, massage parlours, and amusement parks need to be built there..."

Brian immediately added, "And academies, Your Highness."

"Ah, that will be up to you."

…

Downstream of the Thames River.

London Port.

The Marquess of Wellesley had not yet disembarked when he saw the densely packed welcome party on the shore, as well as the Royal band in their neat red uniforms at the front of the crowd.

However, as his gaze swept across the dock's center on a young man surrounded by officials, a smile immediately spread across his face.

That man was none other than William Pitt, the current Prime Minister of England. To distinguish him from his father, people called him William Pitt Junior.

The "Martha" ferry gently touched the dock, the gangplank was lowered, and Wellesley stepped onto English soil amidst the noisy music, immediately striding towards Prime Minister Pitt.

The latter, also smiling, came to meet him. Without waiting for him to salute, he gave him a warm embrace and exclaimed loudly, "Arthur, do you know that all of London is singing praises of your splendid victory in the Far East? Your excellent command and brave combat have stabilized the very foundation of the nation!"

Wellesley felt no pride at the praise; instead, a hint of embarrassment flashed in his eyes.

He patted his old friend on the back and then took a step back, insisting on following protocol with a bow, "Thank you for coming to meet me, it makes me very happy."

He glanced around at the grand reception and chuckled dryly, "I originally thought... there wouldn't be such an honor."

"How could you think that? You are a general returning in triumph, a hero!"

Seeing Pitt with his head down, as if lost in thought, he waved on his behalf to the crowds on both sides and then skipped the speech, directly pulling him into the carriage.

"Is that damned malaria still tormenting you?" asked William Pitt Junior, looking at his old friend with concern. "You don't look very spirited."

The Marquess of Wellesley still had his head down, sounding dejected: "You know there was no victory parade; I didn't defeat that Indian native."

"No, you won a complete victory," William Pitt Junior immediately corrected him. "All of Britain needs your victory. The people don't like cold, hard truths."

"Over three million British Pounds, nearly a thousand soldiers dead or wounded," Wellesley shook his head incessantly, "in the end, all we got was a little land of no value, and the mockery of Mysore."

William Pitt Junior sighed as well, patting his shoulder, "Think of the brighter side; at least you've secured our sphere of influence in the Far East."

"The French!" The Marquess of Wellesley suddenly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, gritting his teeth, "It's all those damned French!

"The Mysore soldiers I captured said they all received training from Lafayette, and that man even devised a whole set of campaign plans for Tipu.

"I even suspect that those fine cannons in Tipu's hands were supplied by the French!"

He clenched his fists, his voice low and growling like a beast's: "If it weren't for the French, I could have completely crushed Mysore, occupied Seringapatam, then forced Tipu to pay out millions of British Pounds in indemnities to redeem it. The entire Indian Peninsula would tremble before us, willingly offering everything we want!

"We must make those damned French bastards pay the price!"

William Pitt Junior slowly nodded, "Your political acumen is still as sharp as ever. In fact, the entire Cabinet agrees with you completely. I am ready to present this as the strategic core of our nation's future to His Majesty the King very soon."

Wellesley was momentarily taken aback, "By 'completely agrees,' you mean?"

"Our stance towards France," stated William Pitt Junior, "Do you know the trade volume of France last year? It has already surpassed ours.

"Even with millions of British Pounds earned from us. That damned Eden Treaty—we were duped!

"The French have caught up with us in a large number of industries over the past two years, and we are still maintaining low tariffs as per the treaty, watching French goods flood our market."