"That friend you mentioned… it isn't you, is it?" Clement looked at Lagrange suspiciously. It was a common excuse, after all.
But he immediately realized it was unlikely. Lagrange didn't seem like that sort of person.
He asked sincerely, "Please speak, Your Excellency. If there's anything I can do to help, I will certainly find a way."
Clement was genuinely pleased with himself. For the sake of Spanish science, he was not stingy with resources.
"Hm…" Lagrange was clearly satisfied with Clement's attitude, and his expression improved.
"It's like this," Lagrange began. "My friend is a French scholar. Your Highness knows the situation in Paris is chaotic right now. He was implicated in earlier events, arrested, and imprisoned. I wonder if Your Highness has any way to save him?"
"Well…" Clement hesitated. It would not be easy.
Spain had previously sent personnel into France to prepare for the Revolution and to rescue Louis XVI. But after the failure of that attempt—and with foreigners facing harsher scrutiny—many operatives had already withdrawn from Paris to avoid needless losses.
Getting someone out now would be difficult.
Still, it was Lagrange asking. And his friend was unlikely to be an unknown.
If a small price could secure a great scientist, it would be worth it.
Thinking this through, Clement asked, "What charges was your friend arrested on? If it's a minor offense, we could consider paying to get him out. Anything that can be solved with money isn't really a problem."
"Money may not be an option," Lagrange said with a wry smile, shaking his head. "My friend was arrested for treason."
"I see… that's troublesome." Clement frowned, sensing the difficulty, but he didn't ask why a scientist would be accused of treason.
During the French Revolution, tens of thousands had been executed for treason. In practice, anyone who disagreed with the revolutionaries—or even held different political views—could be branded a traitor.
After weighing Spain's remaining capabilities in Paris, Clement decided to agree.
A scientist, surely, would not be guarded more heavily than a high-profile political prisoner.
"It's not impossible," Clement said. "I'll send someone to arrange his rescue as soon as possible. May I ask your friend's name?"
"Laurent Lavoisier," Lagrange sighed. "Alas… I advised him long ago to leave Paris and keep his head down—even to live in Madrid for a while. But he wouldn't listen. A scientist who loved France has now become a traitor to France. I don't know what those revolutionaries are thinking."
Lavoisier!
Clement's spirits soared.
Good heavens—Lavoisier was hailed as the father of modern chemistry. Clement still remembered learning about the conservation of mass and oxidation theory in his previous life.
Historically, Lavoisier had not escaped the chaos. He was condemned and executed—before even reaching fifty.
Such a mind being destroyed by political frenzy was not only a loss for Europe, but for all humanity.
No. A talent like that had to be saved—if not for Spain, then for science itself.
Clement spoke excitedly. "So it's Lavoisier! Your Excellency, rest assured: the death of such a man would be a loss for all mankind. I will definitely find a way to save him."
Without hesitation, Clement borrowed Lagrange's paper and pen and wrote an order on the spot. Then he handed it to his attendant.
"Deliver this letter to Cavallos. Have him act immediately according to the instructions—spare no effort in rescuing Lavoisier."
When Clement finished, Lagrange's composure had nearly returned. He smiled faintly.
"Thank you for your help, Your Highness. On behalf of the scientific community, I thank you."
He made to bow.
Clement quickly stepped forward and steadied him, waving it off.
"No, no, no—you're too kind. Saving a scientist like him is simply my duty. Believe it or not, you do this for science, and so do I."
Lagrange clearly didn't believe him.
Having lived in Madrid for years and watched Clement's actions firsthand, he knew Clement respected science and education—but he also knew Clement's true motive was Spain's rise.
Still, that didn't matter to Lagrange.
All he wanted was a stable research environment and sufficient funding. As long as Clement—and the Spanish royal family—could provide that, he didn't care about anything else.
With his worries eased, Lagrange turned his concern toward Clement and asked with a smile,
"Your Highness, did you come again to inquire about the progress of the steam engine improvements?"
He sighed.
"Unfortunately, I may disappoint you. The results are still not as expected. It may take more time."
Clement nodded, not surprised. He had already waited this long—another year or two would not matter.
There was no benefit in forcing an inefficient steam engine into production, especially when it would have to compete with British products.
Clement smiled.
"It's fine. Good things come to those who wait. I believe that with the University of Madrid's research, we will develop a better steam engine—and push Spain into a new era."
He continued, "Besides asking about the steam engine and the university's recruitment of instructors, I came mainly to request something else. I'd like you to recommend a few students—preferably sons of Spanish nobles—to accompany me on this campaign."
Lagrange knew about the impending war between Spain and France and had heard something about Clement's appointment as commander. He asked, puzzled,
"If Your Highness needs people for the war, why not look for them at the military academy? Why come here?"
"Hahaha…" Clement laughed.
"Because I don't need officers. I need staff officers."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone confident.
"Fighting a war is not so different from solving a mathematical problem. A staff officer who understands mathematics will be far more useful to me."
It was understandable that Lagrange didn't grasp the idea. Modern staff systems in European armies had not yet fully emerged, unlike in the East, where strategists had joined armies much earlier.
So Clement's request sounded unusual—almost eccentric.
Perhaps, in the future, when people discussed the origins of modern military staff systems, they would mention Clement's name.
As for the claim that warfare was essentially mathematics—it was an exaggeration, but not entirely wrong.
Large-scale operations relied fundamentally on numbers: timing, distance, supply, coordination, formation, firepower, attrition.
Even an order as simple as "move the machine-gun emplacement forward five meters" was, in essence, mathematics.
"Is that so?" Lagrange still didn't fully understand, but he wasn't a soldier either, so he accepted it.
After a moment of thought, he said,
"I do have a few excellent students, but none of them are Spanish. As for someone with noble status… perhaps only Andres fits."
"Andres?" Clement's interest sharpened. "Which family is he from?"
"You've certainly never heard of him," Lagrange said with a playful smile. "A descendant of a fallen baronial house. As for the sons of high nobles… the military academies are far more attractive to them."
Lagrange's point was sound. During Charles III's reign, at Clement's suggestion, Spain had invested heavily in education, establishing public universities in every region.
Among them, only three were directly sponsored by the royal family: the University of Madrid, the Army Academy, and the Naval Academy.
Because graduation from the Army and Naval Academies essentially guaranteed an officer's commission, many sons of minor nobles chose those schools to secure a future.
Those who studied at the University of Madrid usually came from families wealthy enough to prosper without military credentials.
"Interesting," Clement said, growing more intrigued.
Among lesser nobles who attended the University of Madrid, there were generally two types: those with money who wanted connections, and those with exceptional grades who studied on scholarship.
Andres, personally recommended by Lagrange, was unlikely to be the former.
"Then we'll take him," Clement said. "But one is not enough. Do any of your other students want to come with me and experience the battlefield?"
If Clement wanted, he could conscript Spanish nobles—military duty was their obligation. But for foreigners, he would respect their choice.
Lagrange nodded and smiled.
"They likely won't refuse to serve at Your Highness's side."
His smile faded slightly.
"Still, I hope Your Highness will take good care of them—and more importantly…"
He paused, then spoke with quiet weight.
"Take even better care of yourself. Too many people's hopes rest on you. If anything happens to the Crown Prince, unrest in Spain may not be far behind."
He sighed.
"Honestly, it would be best if you appointed a general to lead the expedition."
Clement understood.
Spain's liberals were currently united around him, including some radicals. But because Clement appeared enlightened and capable, they kept themselves in check, hopeful for his future reign.
If Clement died, who knew what they would do?
And Paris was a revolutionary furnace. Clement also remembered that Spain's own civil wars, in later history, would be notoriously brutal.
As for Clement's true goal—building prestige and taking control of the army—there was no need to say it aloud.
"I understand," Clement said earnestly. Then he smiled.
"Your Excellency, rest assured. I have a plan. Besides, this time the allied forces have a very good chance of winning."
Lagrange didn't argue further.
He was indifferent to politics. He had only warned Clement because Clement supported science—and because Clement had agreed to rescue Lavoisier.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have said a word.
When Paris burned, he hadn't spoken up for Louis XVI either.
Lagrange changed the subject.
"By the way, Your Highness, I found and contacted Gauss—the one you mentioned. He is currently studying at the institute in Brunswick."
He added, "For now, he wants to complete his studies there. As for whether he'll come to Madrid afterward, he hasn't given me an answer."
Lagrange smiled faintly.
"I must say, the boy is truly a genius. I'm curious—how did Your Highness even learn of him?"
Facing Lagrange's mildly probing gaze, Clement answered smoothly, as he always did.
"I heard about him through others. He showed talent very young. You know Spain lacks such talent, so I pay close attention to promising people."
He continued, "I have even higher expectations for a genius like Gauss. Personally—and on behalf of the Spanish royal family—I sincerely hope scholars will come to Madrid to conduct research. Funding and conditions are negotiable. Science knows no borders."
In Clement's previous life, the phrase "science knows no borders" would have been mocked.
But in Europe at this time, it was not a slogan—it was reality.
German scholars worked in France; French scholars were praised by British institutions. Politics had not yet swallowed the scientific world, and the modern nation-state had not fully formed.
"I appreciate your sincerity," Lagrange said with a nod. "And I also wish to exchange ideas with such a young man. I will continue corresponding with him."
After more pleasantries, and after greeting the other scholars, Clement returned to his villa with four advisors, satisfied. He began preparing a banquet and ball to entertain them.
After all, these men would be his followers for a long time. Introducing them early to military generals and noble circles would greatly benefit their future work.
However, Clement did not expect that even a small banquet would draw an uninvited guest.
When the attendant reported Godoy's visit, the last traces of Clement's alcohol evaporated instantly.
How interesting.
I didn't go to him—he came to me first.
Fine. They would have to work together for now. Even if Clement intended to deal with him eventually, appearances still had to be maintained.
So Clement ordered calmly,
"Invite Godoy in. I want to introduce this distinguished guest to everyone."