Having now fully earned the title of France's foremost master of crossing the Dover Strait, François Guizot was guided to meet the prime minister as soon as his discussion with Killian Gore concluded.
Normally, when visiting a foreign country for diplomacy, one met the nation's ministers or prime minister first.
This time the order had been reversed.
Though, strictly speaking, whenever Guizot visited the British Empire, the first person he usually met was Killian anyway, so perhaps there was nothing unusual about it.
Could the parliament and the royal family be at odds with each other?
It seemed unlikely for a country like Britain.
But if that were true, then the nightmare would only be beginning.
When a monarchy, cabinet, and parliament all possessed strong influence, their attempts to check one another could sometimes lead to disastrous misalignment.
France itself occasionally experienced such situations.
Having never properly spoken with the British prime minister before, Guizot could not relax his tension in the slightest.
After all, who was the prime minister of Britain?
A man France could never forget.
Charles Wellesley, the second son of Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington—and currently the most powerful political figure in Britain.
Guizot had heard endless stories about him even before leaving France.
Though only a second son who would not inherit his father's title, he had entered the House of Commons and walked a path of uninterrupted victory.
An elite among elites.
The incident in which the young politician—barely in his early thirties—had pushed aside Robert Peel and seized control of the parliamentary majority had made headlines even in France.
The son of the Duke of Wellington—the man who ended Napoleon Bonaparte—naturally stirred complicated emotions among the French.
Any great power like France kept careful watch on foreign politicians.
Austria, Prussia, Russia, Spain, and Britain.
Information on the key political figures of each country was already stored inside Guizot's mind.
Charles Wellesley. Outwardly warm and cheerful—many claim this to be genuine. Yet his political record suggests otherwise.
Robert Peel's downfall. The collapse of the former Whig faction, now renamed the Liberal Party. The rise of the royal court.
It is reasonable to suspect Wellesley's hand behind all of it.
This was not mere speculation.
Ever since entering politics, Wellesley had never once suffered a setback.
Once or twice might be coincidence.
But for nearly ten years he had benefited from almost every political upheaval.
Even Killian Gore—whom Guizot met yesterday—had traveled between Asia and Canada accumulating influence.
But Wellesley?
He had remained in Britain, barely lifting a finger, yet continued rising while firmly holding the office of prime minister.
From the visible circumstances, it was only logical to assume Killian and Wellesley were closely cooperating.
Perhaps Wellesley operated from the shadows while Killian moved on the surface.
With that thought firmly in mind, Guizot maintained absolute caution even as he faced Wellesley, who entered the room with a pleasant smile.
"I heard you met with His Highness the Prince Consort yesterday. Did the talks go well?"
"Yes. We reached a satisfactory agreement. I assume the details have already been reported to you, Prime Minister?"
"Indeed. I know everything."
"What I meant was whether the process itself proceeded smoothly."
"We are the ones in need. Whether it was smooth or not hardly matters. We are simply grateful that Britain is willing to assist France in its difficulty."
Guizot had briefly feared the cabinet might object—claiming the royal household's agreements had nothing to do with them.
Fortunately, that did not appear to be the case.
Still, vigilance was necessary.
The man smiling before him might conceal something monstrous beneath that pleasant face.
The safest course was to obtain what he needed and leave quickly.
"His Highness said surplus grain would be exported to France as soon as possible. May I ask about the schedule?"
"Grain stored in Britain itself can be exported as early as next week."
"Of course, France will cover the transport costs."
"Naturally!"
"As for the grain in Canada, it will take slightly longer. I expect the second shipment to depart next month. His Highness also requested that France cover the shipping costs from Canada."
"That will not be a problem."
When someone offered to prioritize selling food to France, the one in need had no choice but to open his purse.
Still, the fact that Britain demanded only shipping costs—without attaching endless additional conditions—was almost a relief.
"Oh, and one more thing," Wellesley said.
"I heard His Highness mentioned that France intends to work alongside Britain to maintain peace in Europe. Is that correct?"
"Well… that is technically true."
"Excellent."
Guizot hesitated.
Was this really grand enough to be called maintaining European peace?
Seeing his reluctance, Wellesley leaned slightly closer and whispered so only Guizot could hear.
"If France claims the noble cause of protecting Europe from those mobs, it will be far easier to intervene in other nations' affairs."
"Otherwise, Russian Empire will act first."
"Russia?" Guizot frowned. "You believe Russia may intervene in this situation?"
"Of course."
"You know how the Russians are. They recently defeated the Qing Dynasty and seized territory. Their confidence must be sky-high."
"If unrest erupts in Germany, they will certainly send troops under the excuse of restoring order."
"So you're saying we should move before they do."
"Exactly."
"Russia will never imagine that a France currently struggling with famine would intervene abroad."
"So they will prepare leisurely."
Guizot had to admit the logic was sound.
France was barely holding itself together.
Sending aid abroad seemed absurd.
The nation faced famine. Grain was scarce.
If the government attempted to mobilize troops now, it would not be foreign rebels but ministers whose heads appeared on the gallows.
"So we stabilize France with food imports and then send troops to Germany," Guizot said slowly.
"But that would require Prussia or Austrian Empire to request assistance first, would it not?"
"It would look strange if we offered help ourselves."
"Ah, no need to worry," Wellesley replied with a gentle smile.
"We have already contacted our embassy in Austria."
"You will likely receive a request soon."
"And if France earns the gratitude of the German states, that may prove useful in the future."
Russia's expansion was something France wished to restrain as much as Britain.
So the proposal was not unreasonable.
Russia's ambitions toward the south would inevitably surface sooner or later.
Yet the Ottoman Empire, which should have served as the barrier, was steadily declining.
Meanwhile Russia was growing stronger.
If Russia began advancing southward, the Ottomans alone would never stop them.
Britain and France would have to intervene.
And a full-scale war with Russia would be catastrophic.
If Austria could be tied down as an ally, it would be an invaluable strategic move.
"Then Austria will request assistance from France," Guizot said.
"And we simply respond."
"Precisely."
Looking at Wellesley's warm smile, Guizot felt inwardly stunned.
Look at that.
Behind that cheerful expression, the entire grand strategy had already been prepared.
Without question, the proposals Killian presented yesterday had been arranged with Wellesley beforehand.
Clearly, the most dangerous figure in Britain was the man standing before him.
Guizot steeled himself repeatedly not to be deceived by Wellesley's kindly face.
"I understand. France will follow your advice."
"But if Britain and France are to maintain European peace together, what role will Britain play?"
"Simple," Wellesley replied.
"We will deploy the world's most powerful navy."
"Not only in Europe—Asia, and if necessary even the Americas."
"The British Empire will use its naval power to safeguard global stability."
"So the land wars fall to us."
"Indeed."
"No matter what people say about Russia, France still possesses the strongest army in Europe."
"Unless I am mistaken and that statement belongs only to the past?"
"Of course not," Guizot replied.
"The French army remains the finest land force in Europe."
It was obvious flattery.
But no Frenchman alive could respond by saying France was weak.
More importantly, Britain was offering help while preserving France's pride.
It was a brilliant strategy.
France—whose pride remained unmatched—could hardly refuse such a proposal.
"I knew France would say that," Wellesley said warmly.
"Then I look forward to our cooperation."
"The grain shipments will begin next week. Please make good use of them."
"Thank you again, Prime Minister."
Fearing that remaining any longer might invite additional demands, Guizot quickly took his leave.
Next year, when he himself became prime minister, he would have to compete with men like this over national interests.
Could he really manage that?
Oddly enough, he did not feel intimidated.
After all, France and Britain were no longer enemies locked in constant struggle.
Even the British prime minister had just proposed that they board the same ship for the sake of European peace.
France had little reason to refuse.
Guizot decided that once he became prime minister, France's course would be clear.
If you cannot defeat them…
Then you join them.
After returning to France, Guizot immediately requested that Louis Philippe I authorize the formation of a new cabinet.
Holding the current government accountable for failing to manage the crisis—and forming an emergency administration—was a perfectly acceptable justification.
The king agreed without much objection.
Thus Jean-de-Dieu Soult stepped aside, and Guizot swiftly rose as the new prime minister of France.
He immediately began restoring stability.
"Citizens of Paris!"
Standing before a massive crowd in Paris, Guizot raised his voice.
"I understand the suffering caused by rising grain prices better than anyone!"
"His Majesty asked me—when appointing me prime minister—to protect the lives and safety of the people above all else."
"I will dedicate all my ability to that goal!"
"This is not empty rhetoric."
"Starting next week, large shipments of grain will arrive from the British Empire."
"They will be released on the market at cost."
"And anyone attempting to exploit this famine for profit will face the full force of the law!"
Guizot raised a piece of bread high above his head.
"To share in your hardship, from today onward I too will eat nothing but rye bread and simple soup!"
"France will not be broken by such hardship!"
"I, François Guizot, and His Majesty the King will always stand beside you!"
"Do not lose hope!"
"Long live France!"
"Long live France!"
"Long live the Prime Minister!"
Workers who had recently cursed him as a bastard and a scoundrel now cheered wildly.
…So it actually works.
Guizot nearly laughed aloud.
Eating coarse bread and watery soup was unpleasant.
But if it calmed public anger, it was an extraordinarily cheap solution.
And that was not the only advice Killian had given him.
There remained another clever strategy to stabilize France's fragile political situation.
When it came to dividing factions and manipulating rivalries, no one surpassed Britain.
Even Guizot—who firmly believed France lacked nothing compared to Britain—could not deny that.
Perhaps most politicians would agree.
Seeing the crowd growing larger and larger, Guizot solemnly opened his mouth again.
It was time to move the plan to its next stage.