Life of Being a Crown Prince in France - Chapter 1232: 1137: Those Who Dislike the Tsar

Chapter 1232: Chapter 1137: Those Who Dislike the Tsar

The icy spring rain of Saint Petersburg incessantly beat on Fawks’ carriage, and with each “thud,” his agitation increased.

His assistant, tormented by the oppressive atmosphere, cautiously started a conversation: “Sir, our trip wasn’t entirely in vain. For example, we found out that the Russians are amassing supplies…”

Fawks interrupted with a grim face, “They’re going to war with the Ottoman Empire, something every Tsar does. Are you suggesting that I report this to the Prime Minister?”

The assistant shrank back, not daring to speak further.

At that moment, the carriage suddenly slowed. The attendant by the carriage knocked on the window and pointed at a black carriage in the rain, saying to Fawks, “Sir, there’s someone there who wants to see you.”

Moments later, when the man outside the carriage closed his umbrella, Fawks showed a surprised expression: “Count Zubov? Oh, please come in.”

Then he gave his assistant a signal, who quickly got out of the carriage.

The carriage resumed its journey.

Fawks pushed a cup of hot tea towards Zubov: “It’s indeed unexpected to meet you here.”

“I’ve been waiting for you for a while.” Zubov wiped the rain off his face with a handkerchief and picked up the teacup, “Oh, this warms me up a lot, you’ve saved my life.

“In return, I must tell you some news.”

Fawks knew that waiting in the rain outside Saint Petersburg must mean something important, and he eagerly leaned forward: “I’m very much looking forward to it.”

“Do you know where all the oats, tents, and gunpowder from Moscow and Novgorod have been sent these past few months?”

Fawks shook his head.

“Orenburg,” Zubov quickly replied, “The Tsar’s envoy is negotiating with Ali Sha, and in fact, they are preparing to form some sort of alliance.”

Fawks’ expression instantly became serious.

Upon confirming that Russian forces had withdrawn from Transcaucasia, Britain immediately ceased its aid to Persia, not expecting the Russians to fill that strategic gap so quickly.

Coupled with the stockpiling in Orenburg, it was clear that Russia was planning to use Persia’s route to launch an attack on Afghanistan.

Once the Russian army captures Kabul, the next target is obvious.

At this moment, he suddenly felt that the Tsar of Russia’s previous outrageous behavior might have all been a ruse to mislead Britain, while secretly gathering forces for a sudden attack on India.

“Is what you’re saying true?”

“Certainly, I can swear by Jesus,” Zubov leaned forward with the teacup in hand, “General Nikolai Bahov has already gathered over twenty thousand Cossack cavalry, and they will make a move within three months. The war will be personally overseen by Count Kutaisov.”

Fawks was startled, but then squinted his eyes: “Why are you telling me this?”

Zubov forced a dry laugh: “You’re my best friend, aren’t you?”

He had no particular friendship with Fawks; he appeared here today because he was caught in a political crisis.

Paul I’s withdrawal from Persia had nullified his brother’s military accomplishments, but that was just the beginning.

As Russia and Persia truly began peace talks, the massacre Valerian Zubov inflicted on the Persian army became the biggest obstacle.

To appease the Persians, he was likely to be dismissed.

In fact, Paul I had been displeased with Zubov, who was younger than him yet like a step-parent, and seized this opportunity to weaken the Zubov family’s influence.

Zubov attempted to unite with Suvorov and other military leaders to persuade Paul I, only to be sent back home to Kongsansekoye by the Tsar.

However, the visit of the British Foreign Minister offered Zubov a last ray of hope.

“Yes, we are indeed best friends.” Fawks, a seasoned diplomat, nodded sincerely and then looked at Zubov, “Then, do you think our country should resume support for Persia?”

Zubov smirked: “I heard you were lobbying His Majesty the Emperor to focus on the west. In that case, you must thoroughly close off any impractical ideas he has in the Far East.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“General Bahov will pass through Khiva and enter Afghanistan from northern Persia. He certainly won’t be very cautious along the way.

“If a Persian army suddenly attacks, he will have no choice but to retreat.

“Then the Persian army can launch an offensive against Georgia. As you know, forces in the Transcaucasia direction are currently sparse, so they’ll easily achieve victory.

“You don’t even need to provide the Persians with any support; just persuade them to act.”

Zubov’s intent was simple: to show all of Russia that, after his brother’s army withdrew home, the Caucasus situation would become chaotic.

At that time, he could stir public opinion with phrases like ‘for the safety of the Black Sea east coast,’ ‘to avenge the humiliation imposed by the Persians,’ and Valerian Zubov would likely regain command to continue the campaign against Persia.

Fawks was all smiles: “Your friendship is my most treasured asset in Saint Petersburg.”

This time, he was genuinely heartfelt, for Zubov’s appearance had secured a successful report for his trip to Saint Petersburg.

…

Paris.

The Crown Prince’s convoy stopped in front of an unremarkable small courtyard on the eastern side of the Saint Antoine District. The owner of the courtyard saw the golden fleur-de-lis combined with the dolphin emblem and hurriedly led all the servants and staff to greet them.

Joseph disembarked from the carriage, still instructing the President of the French Academy of Sciences, Le Roy: “Bring all kinds of equipment, including a whole set of chemistry experiment apparatus, printing presses, telescopes, and the like. I’ll ensure the navy allocates two transport ships for you, and report to me if they aren’t enough.”

“Yes, Your Highness, I assure you the scientific tools will be comprehensive.” Le Roy bowed and then, somewhat uncertainly, whispered, “Is there really so much there worth researching? Ah, I mean, according to the records, Egypt is just an unenlightened barbaric land.”

“No, no, you can’t succumb to prejudice,” Joseph shook his head, “Egypt has a grand history, practical technologies, and, most importantly…”

Le Roy quickly added, “Geological exploration. I will draw the top experts from the University of Paris’ Geological School, Your Highness.”

Seeing his somewhat skeptical expression, Joseph smiled and said, “Have you heard of ‘Egyptian blue’?”

“I have not, Your Highness.”

“It’s a dye extracted from water lilies, with a very beautiful hue, yet the cost is quite low. The profit from just this discovery alone is enough to cover all your expenses for the trip.”