Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Elijah’s face turned ashen in an instant, staring at his daughter, “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“Yes, father.” Corina nodded forcefully, “I love Twait, I want to marry him.”

“Are you crazy?!” Elijah suppressed his anger, “He’s just a tailor’s son, and now he’s crippled, he’s in no position to marry you…”

Corina, shedding her usual timid demeanor, interrupted him loudly:

“No, father, he is a respected warrior, a hero of France. He also received the Silver Iris Medal this time, he deserves anyone’s love!”

Elijah was taken aback by his daughter’s assertiveness, raising his hand to calm her down, “Calm down, dear, you need to understand, he’s missing a hand and can’t do anything. Are you planning to starve with him?”

Corina took a deep breath and said, “Do you know how he got hurt?

“When he charged the Cologne Fortress, he forcefully pushed aside the enemy’s cannon, which was aiming at hundreds of French soldiers. He saved them!

“But the cannon was already red-hot, and his entire left hand got scalded…

“He is the greatest warrior in my heart, I don’t want to miss him, even if it means starving in the future.”

“You’re… you’re really out of your mind!”

Corina continued, “Actually, you don’t have to worry about us. Twait has a stipend, and I can earn money too.”

“What’s the use of that little money?” Elijah snapped angrily, “It’s not even enough to pay old John’s wages!

“And that tailor’s son doesn’t have a noble title, he’ll never become an officer. What can a lowly, crippled foot soldier do?”

Corina spoke word by word, “Father, I’ll say it again, he is a respected hero, please don’t call him ‘the tailor’s son’.

“And I, want to marry him.”

“No, I absolutely won’t agree!”

Corina said nothing more and turned back to her room.

Elijah followed over and glanced inside, only to see his daughter packing her luggage.

“You’re really driving me to my grave!” he shouted upstairs, “Gina, take your lady to the basement!”

Elijah Richter’s house suddenly erupted into chaos, until he angrily locked the basement door.

Elijah noticed his cousin-in-law and wife, who were standing awkwardly silent, and suddenly remembered the promise to lend them money, so he pulled Baron Scheller and headed outside:

“Sorry for the spectacle. Let’s go to the bank now, Lucas’s matter is urgent.”

In truth, he wanted to escape his daughter’s screams immediately.

In the square in front of Reims Cathedral, hundreds of people were still gathered, setting off fireworks in celebration, and incessantly shouting, “Long live General Massena!”

“Long live the Crown Prince!”

“The warriors of France are invincible!”

Elijah, with a dark face all the way, withdrew 4,600 francs in banknotes with a bill of exchange from the bank, then immediately boarded the carriage with Scheller, heading for the Bank of France Reserve’s branch in Reims.

They were going there to exchange for gold coins because the bureaucrats in Vienna would likely not accept francs.

Scheller anxiously watched the leather bag in his brother-in-law’s hand, which contained over 4,000 francs. If they encountered bandits on the road, the consequences could be dire.

He quietly suggested, “Elijah, shouldn’t we hire a few guards? I mean, in case there are gang members.”

Elijah waved it off, pointing out the window to the patrolling officers on the street, “No need to worry, the police in Reims get more excited seeing gang members than wolves eyeing meat. The gang members here disappeared years ago.

“We just need to be wary of pickpockets. That’s why I brought a gun.”

Indeed, nothing happened along the way, Elijah handed the banknotes to the Bank of France Reserve and received an exchange request form — because the amount was quite large, they’d have to wait three days to get the gold coins.

Having finished his business, Elijah fell into depression again, muttering over and over “damned tailor’s son,” “Corina must be crazy,” and similar phrases.

Scheller, who had just experienced the loss of his son, and whose youngest son’s fate was still unknown, couldn’t help but remark, “Elijah, honestly, as long as the children are happy, that’s more important than anything.

“With your assets, there’s nothing to worry about regarding their future lives.

“Perhaps, you could consider giving that boy a chance…”

“No! Absolutely not!” Elijah stubbornly shook his head, “Corina must marry a nobleman with status. I may not lack money, but I hope she can have more status, and my grandchildren can’t be looked down upon!”

His eldest son had died in Syria four years ago, and Corina was his only heir.

As he spoke, he suddenly remembered something and said to the coachman, “Rudolph, you must know where that tailor’s house is. Take me there, quickly!”

His daughter often took the family carriage to visit Twait, so the coachman was quite familiar with the place.

Rudolph dared not disobey his enraged master and had to head towards the north of the city.

The carriage entered the craftsmen’s quarter of Reims and finally stopped by a not-too-wide street.

The coachman gestured to the old two-story building across the street, “Master, he lives on the second floor, on the street side.”

Elijah noticed the ribbons and flowers at the building’s entrance and frowned slightly but still got off the carriage and walked briskly.

Scheller, worried that his brother-in-law might get into a conflict, had to follow closely behind.

They quickly climbed to the second floor and knocked on the street-facing apartment door.

The door opened swiftly, revealing seven or eight people inside. Scheller leaned in to quietly urge his brother-in-law, “Please don’t act impulsively.”

Ignoring him, Elijah stepped inside. Not seeing his daughter’s boyfriend, he called out loudly, “May I ask who is Mr. Twait?”

A man nearing 40, short, with a kind and bald appearance, stepped forward and bowed to Elijah, “Gentlemen, I am Twait. What can I do for you?”

Elijah spoke coldly, “My surname is Richter, perhaps you’ve heard of it. My daughter is Corina Treich.”

Old Twait’s face lit up with delight, pushing aside those around him, he warmly beckoned inside, “Ah, it’s you, wonderful, please come in. Marian, make the finest coffee. It’s Mr. Richter.”

Elijah intended to say “No need for that,” but was already escorted to the center of the room, next to a wooden table, where he had to sit down, clear his throat, and say, “Mr. Twait, I’m here to discuss your son and Corina.”

The tailor nodded repeatedly, “Of course, Mr. Richter, go ahead.”

The door to the inner room suddenly swung open. A young man in a white military uniform, with a bandaged stump as his left arm, rushed out, saluted Elijah, and said urgently:

“Mr. Richter, Corina, she…”

Elijah was about to say “Corina decided not to see you anymore” when he suddenly heard the sound of neat footsteps from downstairs, obviously numbering in the hundreds.

Then came the sound of an organ and military drums.

The door was knocked again, and a male voice full of energy called from outside:

“Is this the Twait residence? General Massena is here to visit Sergeant Twait.”

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