“To not eat a chicken every day. It is sad. Are chickens so rare here?”
“The thing in front of you is a chicken.”
“Oh. This is a chicken? I thought it was a chick.”
“…”
“…”
A deeply sour expression settled on Henry IV’s face as he set down his fork. A heavy silence fell over the banquet table. Whispers erupted from the gathered nobles.
“Did he just insult His Majesty to his face, during a meal?”
“I have never in my life heard such a preposterous complaint!”
The scandalized murmuring perfectly reflected Henry’s own thoughts.
What in God’s name? Does this barbarian have any concept of dining etiquette… or basic human courtesy?
He raised his head, ready to deliver a sharp retort, but,
“Though I may be mistaken, is it perhaps.”
“Oh! It truly is a chicken! How fascinating! How did you raise it to be this way? Was its size reduced intentionally? The flavor is a little lacking, but it’s intriguing!”
—He realized he had misunderstood the situation completely.
After the banquet, rumors of a ‘wealthy empire where the entire populace eats chicken daily’ spread through Paris.
“D-did I make a mistake?”
“Yes. It would appear you’ve made a rather large one.”
“It wasn’t that big of a mistake, was it?”
“No, it was. I’m quite certain it was that big of a mistake.”
“…”
“…”
Oitotan, belatedly sensing that something had gone terribly wrong, whispered to the aides who had followed him just in case. But it was too late.
“Maximilien, begin preparations.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I will have thin sheets of aluminum foil applied to the palace statues at once.”
“Furthermore, forbid all palace servants from wearing any aluminum adornments. From now on, aluminum is for the King and his guests alone.”
“A splendid idea, Your Majesty.”
His Most Just Majesty, Henry de Bourbon, King of France, paid no mind to such a trivial little incident.
“No, we must think bigger. Replace all furs used in royal attire with those from the New World! All of them, including the furs on my crown! We must ensure that every last person who fawns over luxury furs follows our lead!”
Henry’s eyes were not on the minor rudeness committed by the empire’s envoy. Likewise, he cared nothing for the sensational rumors engulfing Paris.
He saw, and cared about, only one thing.
“Now, the Virginia trade is our stage, and ours alone!”
Wealth.
The immense, unimaginable wealth that would flow from the New World.
The delightful, unexpected blunder from the man named Oitotan was, in fact, a boon. After enduring a moment of embarrassment, the rumors of the ‘Wealthy New World’ began to spread like wildfire through Paris and all of France. The clothes worn by the New World envoys, the jewelry they wore, their trivial personal effects, and the magnificent gifts they had brought—all of it now served as his promotional tools.
That’s right.
From this moment on, all interest, all ambition, all expectation directed toward the New World would be converted into gold coins and delivered straight to Henry IV.
Only those authorized by Henry IV would be permitted to sail to the ‘Emperor’s’ territory. Only those bearing Henry IV’s charter would be permitted to trade in the ‘Emperor’s’ land.
All the luxuries of the New World had fallen into his grasp.
Aluminum. The sweet wine. The soft furs. The grapes that grew without seeds.
All of it.
It was now his.
Luxury, and the goods that define it, is not merely something one enjoys to please the eyes and ears. Luxury is authority. It is prestige. It is the most direct and intuitive method of displaying the wealth one can expend and the power one has accumulated.
Therefore, to monopolize luxury goods was to monopolize authority and prestige. By releasing these goods to the nobles who craved that authority more than anything, Henry could, in turn, devour their vast fortunes.
In short, Henry had seized an authority that was his alone. And with it, a source of funding that was his alone.
Across the sea, Elizabeth had used this very method to suck the fortunes from England’s upper class, laying the cornerstone for her own powerful monarchy.
Now, he could do the same.
He had found a way to sidestep the hopelessly tangled power struggles within his own kingdom; he had obtained the sword to cut that Gordian knot in a single stroke.
For the first time, he felt as if he had truly become the King of France.
“Your Majesty, this is a time for caution. Rather than reveling in this immediate victory, you must consider the price it will bring.”
“I am already considering the price, Maximilien.”
Henry IV said to the Marquis de Rosny, sinking into his sofa as if collapsing.
“It’s the Spanish, is it not?”
“We must decide on the level of conflict we are willing to provoke with them.”
“Dealing with the small change is always the most tedious part, isn’t it?”
“If another war breaks out with Spain, Your Majesty, it will be far more than ‘small change.’”
“…”
“…”
It had only been a few years since France had escaped its devastating wars. Scars left by the Spanish army still littered the countryside. Worse, the most zealous Catholics across the land did not see Henry—who had conveniently converted at the last minute—as their true sovereign. They looked to Spain, praying for the day Henry would be assassinated.
In such a situation, an armed conflict with Spain was, ‘as of yet,’ unthinkable.
It was infuriating, but in the end, only a few merchant ships had been plundered. To start another war with the most powerful nation in the world over this? To needlessly provoke them? It was a fool’s errand.
And yet, into that very situation, an offer he couldn’t refuse had fallen into his lap.
“For now, the best we can do is send a few envoys and lodge a ‘strong protest’.”
Snap.
The King flicked his fingers. The Marquis de Rosny frowned and looked up. The King was smiling with a completely unruffled expression.
“No.”
“No? What do you mean? You intend to go to war?”
“Not war, no. But will that be enough to satisfy the Emperor of the New World? A trade monopoly is a great gift. To pay its price, we must adopt a more radical alternative.”
A radical alternative.
At those words, Rosny shuddered in spite of himself. He knew all too well how his sovereign had ended the civil wars, how he had seized control of this nation. His brilliant insight and decisiveness. This was a man with the heart and belly of a lion.
“If I miss this chance, I am a coward.”
He clenched his fist lightly, smiled, and rose from the sofa.
“And a coward has no right to be King of France.”
That short declaration was enough. Rosny found himself convinced, nodding before he even realized it. From that point on, it was not a ‘discussion’; it was an ‘order.’
“Send an envoy to Spain at once. And send word ahead to our ambassador in Valladolid. We will protest using the strongest, most unyielding language possible! Let’s show a face so fierce it makes that little Philip piss himself!”
“Will that be enough?”
“Of course. I am no coward, but.”
Henry IV’s spine went rigid, his eyes glittering like those of a savage beast.
“…that bastard Philip is.”
And so, just as Oitotan departed from Paris, another envoy departed from France.
Upon reaching the palace in Spain’s new capital, Valladolid, Henry’s ambassador immediately began to roar.
“This shamelessness! To condone such a heinous and immoral crime against a nation with whom you are not at war! And against fellow Catholics, no less! We, France, will never forget this!”
“…”
“…”
The sheer severity of the statement and its deliberate, naked aggression stunned the Spanish court into silence. All eyes turned to the throne.
Philip, in turn, looked at his favorite, the Duke of Lerma. When Lerma gave a slight nod, Philip stood. Everyone in the hall—especially Henry’s ambassador—waited with bated breath to see what great majesty and fury the King of Spain would unleash upon the Frenchman.
“Th-th-th… W-What rudeness is this! I-I have not condoned such a crime. I—“
Henry IV’s judgment was proven exactly correct.
Philip III broke out in a cold sweat, his eyes darting back to the Duke of Lerma, who spoke calmly.
“I, too, know nothing of this matter, Your Majesty.”
“R-right? You see? If you don’t know, how could I.”
“However,” Lerma continued, “look at this shoddy letter of marque the ambassador has presented as evidence. It clearly bears the signature of the Viceroy of New Spain.”
“Y-Yes! It certainly does!”
“We here in the capital knew ‘nothing’ of this, but it is possible this incident occurred due to an error by our colonial officials. Or perhaps those who received the license… over-interpreted its meaning.”
“Indeed! S-see! We in Spain knew nothing of this! W-we bear no responsibility for this incident!”
With the Duke’s help, the King had managed to do half his job. He had denied responsibility, and he had protected the officials who were carrying out his plan—
“How can you bear no responsibility for an incident that occurred within Your Majesty’s own government!”
“B-but, didn’t I say I didn’t know! Ah, th-the Council of the Indies! Summon the members of the Council of the Indies at once! It is all their fault!”
—or not.
And so, the Council of the Indies was summoned.
“You are all dismissed! Duke of Lerma? Quickly, br-bring in the candidates you recommended. Are they all fine men?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
And the council was purged.
“A message for the Viceroy of New Spain. You will take full responsibility for this meaningless plunder against the ships of a third party and resolve this situation. Your responsibility is grave.”
“Is this really the order from the homeland? Are you an English spy? His Majesty truly sent this?”
“…”
“…”
And the newly purged Council of the Indies immediately turned and applied pressure on the Viceroyalty of New Spain.