Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

In the lavish buildings to the east of Mysore City, Salah's eyes widened as he stared at Sheikh Khan and lowered his voice:

"How did those more than 300 people die?!"

"It is said they were poisoned." Sheikh Khan nonchalantly flipped his wrist, "It's not surprising that food in the prison could kill people."

Salah took a step forward, his voice trembling a bit:

"Did you do it?"

"Hmm, perhaps."

Salah angrily said, "I only asked you to hijack them halfway, why did you kill them all?!"

"Oh, not all of them, Your Excellency," Sheikh Khan offered a delicate ivory pipe to him, "Care for a puff? There are still a dozen or so people who didn't have dinner last night, so they didn't die."

Salah pushed the pipe away. Sheikh Khan was not offended and smiled:

"You should know, hijacking those few hundred people would require mobilizing at least 300 soldiers, and if just one person leaked information, we would face big trouble.

"To kill those people, you only need to bribe two cooks. Then send an assassin to take care of the cooks afterward. With them gone, no one in the world would know we were related to this matter.

"Now, everyone will believe it was Jahanzeb Khan who did it to please the British—his relationship with the British is known to every beggar in the city."

"But…" Salah looked up and sighed. With things having reached this point, he could only say helplessly, "I hope you consult with me before making similar decisions in the future."

"Of course, we are the closest of friends."

Salah grabbed the pipe and left Sheikh Khan's villa. There were many follow-up arrangements waiting for him to manage.

He grew up in a Tunisian Western-style family influenced by Enlightenment thoughts and could not understand the Indian high officials' disregard for the lives of the middle and lower castes under the caste system, particularly the untouchables of Hinduism[Note 1].

In Sheikh Khan's eyes, those 370 people were no different from the chickens and sheep in his household; he would not hesitate to kill even 30,000 people if needed to take down a political adversary.

...

The "Freedmen Massacre" incident, with the help of Salah and others, fermented across the whole of Mysore in less than three days. Countless people cursed the brutal British and their lackeys and mourned for the deceased.
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And Jahanzeb Khan's political rivals, sensing an opportunity, immediately sent a flurry of accusatory letters to Sultan Tipu's desk. The content expanded from the massacre to various issues of corruption in tax collection and abuse of power, creating a situation where everyone seemed eager to join in the downfall.

Ambavilas Palace.

"I remember, I asked you to release those people." Sultan Tipu stared coldly at Jahanzeb Khan. "And what have you done?"

He had just gone through great effort, also mobilizing the Imperial Guard, to finally calm the crowd that had come to him to complain about the massacre.

Even now, nearly a thousand people were gathered outside the palace, waiting for the Sultan to give justice to their deceased relatives.

"Great Sultan." Jahanzeb Khan began with difficulty, "I indeed had ordered the release of those people, I also don't know why they would..."

His gaze shifted towards Shah, the finance officer of Sheikh Khan's faction; internally, he itched with hatred. This matter was very likely the doing of the latter, or at least he was a participant, but he had no way to accuse him.

"Hmph." Sultan Tipu interrupted his secretary with a simple snort.

Although as astute as he was, he had long sensed something amiss—Jahanzeb Khan, even if he were to take action, would not choose the day before their release, when the onlookers were most numerous.

However, political struggle is like this, if you fall into another's trap, it can only show that you are not shrewd enough, not cautious enough. And if you cannot think of a way to turn the tables, then we can only give you a lavish funeral.

It's simply not possible to protect you by having the Sultan withstand the fury of the entire nation.

"Your Majesty, please forgive me!" Jahanzeb Khan suddenly prostrated on the ground, clutching at Sultan Tipu's feet, pitifully pleading, "Moreover, those people have been spreading rumors, and even if they died, the punishment would have been just a bit too severe. I am willing to pay a large sum of money to compensate their families…"

Shah immediately gestured to his chest towards Sultan Tipu, saying:

"Your Majesty, those people were not spreading rumors. As far as I know, what they said about the British, is essentially true."

He looked coldly at Jahanzeb Khan:

"The noble Sultan's secretary accepted benefits from the British, protected the British's image everywhere, and even persecuted the people of Mysore to a great extent!"

Actually, he had no idea about the increase-decrease trade between the British and Jahanzeb Khan, but it was certain that the British had provided him benefits, and saying anything about it was bound to be correct.

Jahanzeb Khan immediately panicked:

"Great Sultan, don't listen to his nonsense..."

However, Sultan Tipu squinted slightly, nodding as he said:

"Regarding those rumors, I have also recently sent people to inquire about them, and indeed, they are all things the British have done."

As someone who was "well-versed in European affairs," he was somewhat aware of the British atrocities. Of course, as for how many Native Americans the British killed or how many slaves they traded, he didn't know the exact numbers.

Upon hearing these words, Jahanzeb Khan felt as though he were struck by lightning; without even the "spreading rumors" allegation, his actions completely lost their foundation.

"I beg you to forgive me this time for the sake of the old Sultan..."

Sultan Tipu, glancing sideways at the tearfully pleading old minister, finally heaved a sigh after a long pause:

"You shall pay 10,000 British Pounds to the families of the deceased. I know you have always wanted to go on a pilgrimage, but have been too occupied with state affairs over the years, thus you haven't managed to do so. You are given a few years' leave now; go on your pilgrimage."

Speaking of a pilgrimage, it effectively meant being sent away from the power center of Mysore—with the transportation at the time, a pilgrimage would take at least two years to return, by which time his position in the political core would be long gone.

Jahanzeb Khan stiffened, taking a while before he could weakly say:

"Thank you for your consideration, great Sultan..."

…

"That foolish native Indian!" Griffiths, the senior representative of the East India Company, after listening to the report on the recent "massacre incidents" from his subordinate, angrily kicked over a hatstand.

Jahanzeb Khan not only failed to control the slanderous rumors against the British but also completely eradicated the pro-British faction within Mysore—now in Mysore, whoever dared claim to be pro-British might be beaten to death upon stepping outside.

The intelligence agent who reported to him added:

"Representative sir, additionally, I have received information that Tipu is preparing to declare war on both Travancore and the East India Company."

"What?" Griffiths grabbed his arm, "Is the information reliable?"

[Note 1] At that time, although the Kingdom of Mysore was ruled by Islam, the grassroots population was still predominantly Hindu, with a small Sikh minority. Sultan Tipu pursued a tolerant religious policy, and on the whole, the different religions coexisted relatively harmoniously in Mysore.