In Passing

I'm trying something a little unconventional for this chapter's opening.

Prince, Emperor, then Prince again

Hero of the bold campaign

From mountain-height, a fallen star,

Bitter foe of both Kaiser and Czar.

Better to have noble death at tyrant's hands

Then be forever hemmed by Corse's sands!

ThePrince driven by legacy left behind

Aiming for a crown of a greater kind.

And so Bonaparte cast the die,

To make the Bourbons in terror fly.

Truly, was it not the most supreme wonder,

To see Europe struck twice by thunder?

(This poem was written in Britannia during the War of Italian Independence and was, for reasons which should be obvious, and was published much later, to the point that the original author had been lost. The identity of said author, and if they were a poet of any renown, is the subject of some debate.)

Euphemia's plan, while certainly interesting, did fundamentally hinge on one man: Bonaparte. It would be, to put it mildly, difficult to force him onto the throne if he didn't really want to. That entire plan hinged on Napoleon II being enough of a leader- both military and politically- to sweep to Paris, and that wasn't exactly something one could do against your will. You didn't just accidentally throw a coup.

"Would you do it, Bonaparte?" Lelouch asked. "If the opportunity arose?"

"Yes." Bonaparte answered instantly, without so much as a moment of doubt. Lelouch grinned at that- he certainly took after his old man's ambition. Of course, the ambition both Bonapartes shared also tended to make things a lot more complicated.

Cornelia huffed, also understanding just how much of a mess this could turn out to be, event if executed perfectly. "If this fails…" She started, before Napoleon cut her off.

"All Europe will fall upon us. Yes, I understand." He nodded. "The price will be high."

Lelouch wondered if Euphemia fully grasped how horrifyingly wrong this might go. Knowing that your scheming directly lead to European war on massive scale would be enough to send anyone trembling, much less Euphemia.

"The Kingdom of France will be won with blood..."

Bonaparte chuckled. "Just the kingdom?" There was a bit of a joking tone there, but if there was one thing Lelouch wanted to avoid, it was the appearance of empire.

"Oh, it better be a kingdom." Lelouch warned. "This is already going to look bad enough, we do not need to add imperial ambitions to the mix." Despite imperial titles being a bit more common than they once were, Lelouch knew that he and especially Bonaparte would be looked upon with the most scrutiny if they seemed to be overstepping their bounds. Still, if they were going to entertain this scheme, it was best to be prepared…

"Do you think you could hold the Pyrenees and keep the Germans at bay?" Lelouch asked. It was not an ideal scenario, but it was possible. Hopefully, the Belgians would be a touch more sympathetic to their cause...

If Lelouch was to leave Gibraltar for a potential war back home, the least he could do was the prepare the men he would leave behind for his absence. Even if nothing came of France and it was just a flash in the pan, then perhaps checking back in on Italy would be a good idea. Of course, he would leave the majority of his ships behind, to protect that precious choke point, but there were other steps he needed to take, possibilities to consider...

So Lelouch began talking to the officers he planned on leaving behind. "If the Spanish make moves to capture Gibraltar…" Lelouch inhaled sharply, before taking a piece of paper and beginning to write on it. "Let them have it. War with Spain isn't worth this rock. Sail for Morocco and attempt to make use of their ports…"

The letter said much the same, along with the promise of eventually paying back the Moroccans for their generosity if they did choose to help here. Admittedly, it would almost certainly seen as nothing more than a bunch of hot air on Lelouch's part, and they would never get any of the promised returns if Lelouch were to lose… but they had acquired enough plunder from passing Britannian trade to sweeten the deal a little. At the very least, enough to bargain for supplies.

Admittedly, if Britannia invaded Morocco to put a stop to them hosting the Italian fleet… that would make things a whole lot worse. Capturing the port cities- all they would really need to abort any attempts at basing an Italian fleet- wouldn't be nearly the attrition filled slog he imagined taking the back country would be…

However, Lelouch was certain that for all the empire's power, there would be a breaking point sometime, it was just a matter of prosecuting the war until they reached that point… or the whole house of cards crumbled under them. He wouldn't rely on a possibility like that, of course, but every distraction would spread them that much thinner.

Hell, the chokepoint at the Strait of Gibraltar would turn out pretty useless if things in France went the way Euphemia seemed to be planning. Mile after mile of French coastline would lie waiting for a Britannian invasion, and at that point it would be a matter of rapidly responding to them- and winning, of course. Of course, that was assuming all went well- if not, they'd be facing the French as well, and almost certainly the Danubians…

There was no way that the Danubians would allow revolutionary shenanigans like that to take place if they had anything to say about it… well, no one in Europe would like the idea of the revolutionary fires being stoked again, even if they had let his Italian revolt slide. The Russian regency might be enough to keep their involvement limited- although there was no reason to take foolish risks and assume that- but the rest of Europe… their chances of getting involved were a lot higher.

It was something to think about as they prepared to sail for Genoa. For what it was worth, Lelouch hoped that he wouldn't have to fight the Spanish after he had gone to all the effort of capturing Gibraltar to give to them… eventually. Hopefully, the King of Spain would remember that particular act of goodwill.

Things had gotten… hot in Ireland, what with the Company of the Red Hand breathing down the Peat Gatherer's necks. The looming threat of a violent paramilitary crackdown was not exactly the most reassuring thing, a worry not helped by the fact that they wouldn't be on the only targets. With the benefit of hindsight, it occurred to them that perhaps the highly publicized murder of a duke did kind of do against Lelouch's advice to not invite reprisals… but you couldn't exactly un-assassinate someone, could you?

Melting into the populous wasn't the easy getaway they had hoped for, considering their… friends from Britannia poking their noses into anything upon catching so much as a whiff of suspicion. At least at first, the men of the Company of the Red Hand- they needed a shorthand for that, Red Hands, or something?- were fairly bold.

The keywords there being at first. They learned very quickly to not go meandering about on their own without several fellows, especially in the back country… interestingly, not all of the attacks against them were conducted by the Peat Gatherers which was a surprise for Collins. Not necessarily a completely happy one- it complicated things- but intriguing. It was good to think that they weren't alone in opposing Britannia, although that might have been exacerbated by the Company.

Unsurprisingly, having a bunch of blue bloods canter in and start acting all high and mighty didn't exactly win many people over, especially considering their… liberal policies when it came to what was evidence of sedition, and what warranted a warrant.

It rubbed Collins exactly the wrong way, but it wasn't a problem that he could solve quickly, and it was quite possibly unsolvable with his current means. The last time Ireland had attempted to pull off a revolution, the results were not exactly stellar, and there was even less of a chance to receive any support from the mainland.

It was not an ideal time to be getting any funny ideas about self determination. Well, it never was with Britannia so close and so powerful, but with the threat of Italy looming in the people's minds (and in the papers) it would be so easy to paint an uprising as being somehow sparked by the Italians or their perfidious scheming with the Pope. Technically speaking, considering where Collins and his fellows had been last, the former point was actually fairly close to the truth, but it still stood. The appearance of being an uprising with foreign support during wartime was not the most ideal, to be certain.

For now, they would have to suffer whatever the Red Hand dealt, respond how they could, and prevent the entire situation from boiling over. They weren't going to just roll over and die, of course, but it Ireland could never raise to too great of a priority- less a boil and more a simmer, he supposed.

He shook his head. Cooking metaphors? It probably time for him to get something to eat, although that was something of an ask. Food was going for more recently, and there was only so much charity you could reasonably get from sympathetic farmers and the like. And he was certain the Company of the Red Hand would not approve of a bunch of suspicious seeming, malnourished vagrants…

"What do you mean, we're leaving for Italy?"

"We're leaving Gibraltar. And going to Italy." Alberto explained.

"Whatever for?" Pietro sputtered. "The fight's here, isn't it?"

"I'm not entirely sure why we're leaving, but it's not like we're of much use in naval battles. I've heard we're going to arrive in Genoa, with Bonaparte." Alberto shrugged. That wasn't too far fetched of a conclusion to reach, considering the Corsicans were making moves to fight along with the Italians… There was also the matter of the frequent discussions between Bonaparte, Lelouch, and Cornelia, although Alberto would argue that was just par for the course. They were in charge, after all, why wouldn't they talk?

"Supposing that the King thinks the fighting's going to be near Genoa…" That didn't seem good.

"Well, I've heard we'll be marching to Venice."

What an ill portent. After a few moments of thought, a question cropped up in his mind. "Isn't that Brit Asplund still around Venice?"

"Is he? I thought he was fiddling with minecarts or something."

Napoleon Bonaparte II was quite aware that he lived in the shadow of a great man. He hoped to one day escape that shadow, build a legacy of his own, but he could acknowledge that he was lucky. Some small fraction of his father's glory had been passed onto him- a fragment partially squandered by being the Bonaparte who lost the Empire, but a name still rich with meaning… a name that he would make people respect again.

The idea of people following his commands and taking his orders was not an alien one- he ruled Corsica, of course- but to become a man men wanted to follow, someone who lived up to his father's legacy… well, the challenge set before him was great, but he had more resources than what his father started with. Still, he couldn't help but feel some sense of irony about the whole situation, and perhaps a bit of self-pity. Here he was, just the sort of weak inheritor to power that his father had spent his life beating back…

Before he could press his claim- and prevent himself from falling into a life of excruciating obscurity, one way or the other- he would spend his time with the French contingents of the Italian Foreign Legion, the foundation of his army. The hope was, of course, that partisan forces would join him and bolster his ranks, in a similar vein to Lelouch's own conquests, but for that to happen, he would have to prove himself a man worthy of that imperial legacy. Sure, they'd call it the Kingdom of France, to imply some sort of continuity with the feudal past, but that would be interwoven with the power and legacy of a man who truly ruled France, who brought it to heights those old kings could scarcely dream of.

Regardless, Lelouch had the eastern flank to cover, and Bonaparte would be pushing west. However, before he could push- if the stars aligned to allow him to go- he needed to start swaying people. More specifically, the French Foreign Legions. Or would it be the Foreign Legionnaires, from France? Whatever. Ideally, they'd just be French soldiers eventually.

By the time his reinforcements began to trickle in, they provided Clovis with negotiating power that he desperately needed. He had already been forced to fold to several of the Freedmen's demands, on top of the fact that he would be giving them land once this was all over with… well, more than just land. They would be treated with the dignity due to any Britannian citizen of the Cape once this was over… of course, if he didn't renege on his deal, which he had some power to do now, with his reinforcements.

Keeping his word, while a matter of honor- as much as honor mattered with the natives- was not a pleasing possibility. He didn't particularly want to do it, and he probably had the men to keep the Freedmen from killing him… but at the same time, they'd raise hell anywhere that his Britannian columns couldn't reach. If they managed to pick up even a modicum of tactical sense from Clovis' own officers, they'd avoid confrontation and make a nuisance of themselves for as long as possible, and Clovis wasn't sure his soldiers could protect every field, pasture, and vineyard in the Cape.

His counselors warned him that if he kept on feeding this beast, it would eventually grow large enough to bite the hand that fed it clean off… but he couldn't kill it or let it run completely wild either.

He might be able to do something with the men he had, some sort of minor campaign, but if he just went out and reconquered the very same Boers that got him into this mess in the first place… well that wouldn't be too stellar. Admittedly, there wasn't much else he could reasonably do with the army, at least things that made actual logical sense. He could send his men marching into the Namib Desert to the northwest of him, but even he could recognize the monumental stupidity of that idea.

Would it be so bad to keep them here, just for a while? For security's sake? Maybe see if the Zulu situation would pan out in a way he could exploit? If nothing else, his corner of the empire was one that absolutely justified a large garrison, considering how it was a stopping point on the way to Asia.

Once the Boer situation was handled and with a counterbalance to their own military power keeping them drawing out any more concessions… Clovis hoped that they would be tied down by their newly won lands. Oh, he was certain that the problem wouldn't die there and that there would be all sorts of wonderful long term issues brought about by having a comparatively martial, armed component of his population who knew they could extract concessions from him in moments of weakness.

But he'd do his best to tame them, or achieve eternal shame while trying.

As Euphemia had predicted, it was not a particularly fortunate year when it came to agriculture.

Admittedly, it wasn't as if Italy could provide a perfect solution to the food problem- they were suffering through similar, although some bargaining with the Pasha of Egypt (and maybe some loans) might be able to help. Long years of famine would be, to put it mildly, exceedingly unfortunate for their ambitions- well, for everyone- and might just spark the unrest needed to throw Bonaparte off his throne after he potentially won it. Few things put a fire in someone's belly quite like it being empty of food, and a counter-coup against Bonaparte would be inconvenient.

Of course, there was always the possibility that the rest of Europe might follow France in coming down with a bout of that particular revolutionary sickness. Bad climate and crop failures could certainly happen in other countries other than France, but Lelouch liked to think that France could, perhaps, serve as a sort rallying cry, more than his own Italy. Sure, there was some republican tradition in Italy- the mercantile republics, the communes, even the earlier days of Rome- but France's republican rise and fall were fresh. There was a space for tradition, of course, for storied histories… but there was something special about France, a power in her recent history.

He liked to think it would be something of a symbolic coup if they were to restore Bonaparte but make their republican ethos apparent. For some, constitutional monarchy might have been an unacceptable compromise, but Lelouch had no plans of ceding his sovereignty and the power that would keep his sister safe to republican ideals. A happy middle path between republicanism and royal power...

Lelouch stroked his chin as he rode his horse. He- and Jeremiah, of course- were headed towards Venice, along with a number of their men. Figuring that he didn't have much better to do- other than spiral into his own headspace considering every possibility- he decided to talk with the men. Convince them he cared.

"If you could indulge my curiosity, how exactly do you consider yourself?" Lelouch prompted- no reason he couldn't get information out of it as well.

"Your majesty?" The man asked, evidently a little confused by said question.

"You're from… Savoy, yes?" The man nodded- Lelouch was glad to know their military records were accurate (he wasn't quite obsessive enough to know every man's hometown, of course, having picked one in particular)- and Lelouch continued. "Well, would you consider yourself more of a Savoyard, or an Italian?"

"Well, I'm both, your majesty, but I think I get what you mean." he shrugged. "I suppose now that Italy is an actual state…"

"Sometimes, it amazes me at how quickly we all adapt to change…" Lelouch mused. "You know, before me, before Britannia, they were men who were more than willing to fight and die for Ferdinand of Sicily… perhaps they weeded themselves out, but now…"

"They support you." Perhaps not as whole-heartedly as the armies of Sanfedists who fought their ill fated battle against the French, but Lelouch did like to think he was popular. It would be a damned shame if he couldn't even manage to pull off that.

"And so it goes." Lelouch mused. "So much as half a century ago, and we would be walking on Venetian soil."

"Sic transit gloria mundi…" The man muttered. Thus passes worldly glory.

"You know Latin?" Lelouch grinned. It was good to know that some of the men serving under him were well educated.

"Bits and pieces." He shrugged.

If nothing else, classical Latin hadn't changed all that much, Lelouch supposed. The Latin of the masses had long since passed away, growing into any numbers of languages of dialects, several of which his army spoke now. Here, under the watch of military authority, the language they spoke grew more cohesive, bit by bit… and perhaps all Italy would follow.

Lelouch stroked his chin for a moment, considering if it would perhaps be in his best interest to learn another language. Maybe… German? He didn't like the idea of depending upon translators for sensitive correspondence, if he could feasibly avoid it…

A rider galloped through Switzerland, just about as close to the Danubian Tyrol as one could possibly reach without being in the country themselves. While written in code, the letter being carried by the rider was definitely not the sort of thing that should be falling into the hands of the Habsburgs. It would be rather embarrassing.

Their destination was Bavaria, and more specifically the court of the Bavarian king. That title- King of Bavaria- was actually something of a recent one, acquired with help from the Emperor of the French, Napoleon. In fact, it was not the only good that had been done for them by that famed French Emperor… they had, for a time, ruled over the Tyrol.

Wouldn't it be nice if the Bavarians could get the Tyrol back? All the king of Bavaria would have to do to get that territory… was nothing. Well, convincing the other German powers to not declare on Italy was actually something, but it was theoretically easier than prosecuting a campaign to get said land back. Lelouch knew well that talk was much, much cheaper than funding an army.

If Prussia pushed for war, Bavaria might be able to push back- to defend the interests of the smaller German states and to keep peace, of course, not for any revolutionary reasons. Any sort of counterbalance to Prussia in the Confederation would be a good thing, on top of the obvious advantages of preventing or slowing the entrance of the Germans into the war.

Just a favor for their potential neighbor Italy, and for the son of Napoleon, who had helped the Bavarian king gain his crown in the first place. Was that too much to ask? Possibly. However, it wasn't as if the Bavarians were the only Germans who owed their royal dignity to the first Bonaparte, as the Saxons and Wurttemburgers did. That wasn't to say they were pro-revolution by any stretch of the imagination, but perhaps, if presented with a middle path… well, Lelouch made plans to fight the Germans anyways.

Other than the obvious consequences of the Bavarians spreading news of his scheming, there was always the possibility they just wouldn't want to get back into the Tyrol. The French had been stymied there before…

Lelouch wasn't optimistic enough to think that his letter would guarantee German non-interference, and if intercepted (and properly decoded) it would make him look rather bad, but it wasn't like he wasn't going to be fighting the Danubians anyways. Something told him that playing innocent and trying to shift blame onto Bonaparte wouldn't work- they'd obviously see that Italy and France were cooperating, so they'd attempt to abort the Italian arm of the revolution.

The situation at the Piave was already uncomfortable without Bonaparte moving for France- that could very well spark a conflict, and Lelouch wanted to be there when it happened. While he stayed on the eastern front, Bonaparte would hopefully handle the west- ideally, by pushing the 'western front' all the way to the French shore. That would open him up to attack from any number of directions- Spaniards, Germans, even a possible Britannian landing- but France was no small prize.

Lelouch wasn't optimistic enough to think that his agreement with the Spanish would be extended to include Bonaparte, and with the Spanish king's relatives in France at risk there was a possibility that he might join the fray. If so, whatever peace Lelouch might have bought with the promise of Gibraltar would be worthless, but at the very least it would be safely out of Britannian hands. With the other powers, Lelouch didn't even have that.

Sure, he might be able to discount Russia just due to distance and the regency, but that still left the rest of Europe, including his… friends in the Empire of the Danube. They were in an interesting state, domestically, one that didn't cripple their armies but one that might give Lelouch something to work with...

In theory, the naming of the country after the Danube was supposed to reflect a greater focus on the territories in the empire that were further down that famed river than Vienna: Buda, Pest, and not-Austria more generally. Still, just because the von Habsburgs were trying to shift their power base east didn't mean that anyone else wanted that- and from what Lelouch understood, the Hungarians were rather prickly. At least, their nobility were, and while a few sacrifices might have been made with Napoleon- the original- breathing down their necks, those petty Magyar potentates were going to defend their power jealously. Like, say, throwing a fit at the idea of German elements gaining more power within the Empire, or opposing Austria cozying up with the Germans.

Admittedly, there was always the chance that they would see sense when confronted with the revolution reborn, but Lelouch had seen some remarkably petty nobles in his time. He'd plan around potential stiff resistance in Hungary- it was the logical thing to do- but if the nobility wanted the Crown of Saint Stephen pried out of Habsburg hands… well, Lelouch would keep his options open.

Hell, there was the matter of the Slavs as well- the Little Russians and Poles in the northeast and the southern Slavs in the Balkans- who might have their own desires to take their own paths. Admittedly, geography kept the Poles- and as such any promises of a new Duchy of Warsaw or Commonwealth- pretty far away, but the Balkans? Right next door. Unfortunately, Lelouch couldn't exactly play the "I'm one of you" card on anyone there, with the possible exception of the Dalmatians…

There were also the Serbs kicking around. Sure, they weren't independent of Ottoman sway, but neither was Muhammad Ali, technically speaking. The Turks getting involved would be an unfortunate turn of events, of course, but if worse came to worse Lelouch hoped that he might find an ally among the leader of that little autonomy… Was it an Obrenovic that ruled there? A native Serbian, of course.

A dynasty rising from humble origins in the east, one that might just rise to its previous grandeur in the west, and Lelouch in the middle. Interesting times. Of course, Lelouch had no plans of being a mere passive observer in such events, not at all.

Of course, Napoleon and Lelouch had to part ways upon their landing, as each had duties on opposite ends of Northern Italy.

Now there was the matter of what exactly he was to do on the border. Well, it's wasn't as if there was a lot of ambiguity- he would either cross into France and plunge Europe into war or he wouldn't- but it was more a matter of how circumstances would align. Admittedly, Napoleon would admit that he was basically the last person in Europe who would receive the benefit of the doubt for his actions, but there was a certain value to pretenses.

An appropriate cause for war would win him no favors with the Habsburgs and definitely not with the Bourbons in Versailles, but it might give him a better appearance in the eyes of the French people. He may not have had legitimacy couched in generations of dynastic rule, but if nothing else he could try to start off on the right foot. As right as an invasion could be.

But of course, before he proved himself legitimate to the people of France currently within France, he had to prove himself to the Foreign Legionnaires under his command. In theory, the fact that the Legionnaires left France for Italy implied some sort of dislike of the Bourbons- although he was sure there were any number of personal reasons- but that did not mean they'd want to march back with him.

He calmed his nerves as he rode towards the Legionnaire's camp, his Corsicans forming an honor guard around him. Thinking about it, there was a non-zero chance that some of the men waiting for him there had fought with him before… it would be nice to remembered for something he did. Well, hopefully they wouldn't linger too much on the fact that he ruled France when the revolution was dismembered and the Bourbons returned to their throne.

As they approached, Bonaparte could pick out the typical hustle and bustle of a military camp, although what caught his interest was the flag flying over their heads- or rather, flags. Both an Italian and French tricolor proudly flew, the former proudly emblazoned with the Iron Crown of Lombardy, the latter with no such trappings. Certainly a fairer sight than the Bourbon standard…

A couple of soldiers seemed to be heading from the camp to town, carrying baskets- presumably to carry back some food of decent quality from town. Having functioning eyes, they noticed Bonaparte and his escorts. One of the men tipped his cap respectfully as they passed- the other spat at him.

"What do you think you're doing?" The first hissed. "You'll have to forgive him, your…" he petered off, not entirely sure how to address Bonaparte.

"I'm certainly not your Emperor anymore." Bonaparte chuckled, trying to dismiss the man with some good humor, even if the lack of respect prickled. Better that than a raging egotist without so much as a crown to weigh down his swollen head. "Just your commander, as long as the King will let me be." And possibly longer, although they didn't know that.

As he expected, the former seemed cheered by the idea, the latter's mood soured further. But such was life. The pair headed off, and Napoleon resumed his ride towards the camp, occasionally passing a soldier or group of them on business, fulfilling all the little chores such a gathering of men inevitably required, or just idly chatting with camp followers or civilians. Of course, their eyes were drawn to Bonaparte's little procession. Thankfully, it did not seem that opinions about him were split half and half- most seemed, vaguely, to recognize him, some even tipping their caps if they wore them.

Vague positive emotion was workable, hopefully. Some of his detractors seemed a touch more… ardent, when it came to their feelings. Something told Bonaparte they would not be pleased by his appointment as their commanding officer… although the possibility of liberating their home country might cher them some. Not that he could go about crowing such plans.

He would have to set the men to drill. Something to do while waiting for his casus belli to generate itself. Well, technically speaking, considering that he was in possession of a number of Frenchmen, he could, hypothetically, engineer something...

While Serbia, Egypt, and the Barbary states were certainly larger subjects of the Ottomans, the isle of Corfu had spirit. At least, there was one person there with some revolutionary spirit, and the sway to actually do something about it: Ioannis.

His plans to rally support for the Kingdom of Italy in the Septinsular Republic were not going as well as he planned. Some part of him wondered if it was just a matter of wearing his fellows down- or perhaps it was just that their confidence in Lamperouge grew every day the Italian flag flew over Rome. Not enough to make any meaningful change in their lives, even as the specter of obsolescence loomed over them… but what did he expect, really?

Regardless, Ioannis certainly wasn't going to loose out on any potential profit that trade with the Italians could bring. Other than the obvious fiscal benefits, there was the matter of all the very interesting information you could pick up from traders and the movement of goods. There were so many interesting people to know, after all, from the Balkans to Anatolia to the Levant… and some of them might share interests with him.

Cautiously, oh so cautiously, he sent feelers into Greece proper. He wasn't fool enough to go blabbing about independence or autonomy or any such ideas, of course. It wasn't that he didn't find the idea compelling, necessarily...

The problem being that the flower of the Greek revolutionary movement lay buried in the glades of Arcadia, not capable of providing any aid to him- at least not as people, not anymore. As symbols, as martyrs, certainly, but not as men.

He wasn't going to start printing propaganda leaflets or any such nonsense, as the Sublime Porte was probably just waiting for an excuse to crack down on the Septinsular Republic. Risks would be necessary to even stay relevant now, but certain risks were far too high for far too little reward.

If the Danubian soldiers on the Piave were not already stressed out the potential of war breaking out between them and the Italians, the arrival of the so-called King of the Italians, Lelouch Lamperouge, did not help their frayed nerves. They didn't see him directly- he was smart enough to keep a comparatively low profile while near a hostile border, or at least didn't traipse around the trenches- but he was evidently there, egging on his men and the people.

Having, for all intents and purposes, the living, breathing personification of the Italian state across the border from them was not the sort of thing that kept the Italians on their river calm and orderly. Sure, there were Danubian loyalists, but there were also dissidents running around, generally causing a ruckus or sticking their noses into military matters. These problems were not helped by their co-conspirators across the border.

They had to keep a careful eye on everyone trying to make a crossing- in particular, they had seen some people trying to get pamphlets across. Sometimes they were just straight up revolutionary, but there were subtler ones as well: ones telling of Italian triumphs and technological feats, or even things like brief histories of the Republic of Venice. A state that was a number of interesting things: Italian, independent, and within the reaches of living memory…

(This was not to say the border was a one way street, of course. The Danubians were sending materials both mundane and… suspect over to the Italians as well, not to mention whoever was bold enough to carry on mundane commerce as two armies faced each other down.)

If Lamperouge suddenly got a hankering for territories once held by the Venetians, then that would be unfortunate… but perhaps the war that was to come was meant to be, in a sort of fatalistic way. Perhaps being stationed on the border provided something of a skewed perspective- the average Italian or Danubian citizen probably didn't linger on this sort of thing- but it was hard not to feel that they were creeping towards conflict.

Whatever reason would Lamperouge have to be poking around on the border?

One of Lelouch's projects intended to prepare the Italians for a war to the north was a long series of semaphore towers, which were just about on the bleeding edge of communication technology. Sure, you couldn't use it to send every message- hence Lelouch using a rider for his letter to the Bavarians- but considering that semaphore messages could travel about as fast as you could see signals and move flags to match, they was much faster, along a certain pre-determined path.

Admittedly, days weren't always the busiest, even with the occasional message coming through (hey, they had to recoup the costs of the towers and all the men's wages somehow!). Still, someone did have to do it- a semaphore tower was useless without men to see signals with- and it also did give you a bit of a peak into interesting news.

The King and his army settling into Venetia had prompted more messages than usual over the past few months as the soldiers sent messages home. The workers manning the towers had never seen anything that looked like royal communications while working the towers, unfortunately… they had heard rumors of code, but there were no random streams of letters coming through either. A little boring, they thought, but not too surprising.

One of the men manning said towers was in the middle of transmitting a rather boring message- some domestic matter or housekeeping of some kind, which he basically tuned out to focus on the letters. He was snapped out of that sort of quiet trance by a very distinctive pattern of flashing flags ahead of him.

"Seems like we've got an emergency message coming through…"

In his head, he kept track of the letters as he read them aloud.

B… O… N… A… P… A… R… T… E…

M... A... R... C... H... E... S...

F... O... R...

He continued reading the letters aloud to pass on the message to the man managing the flags but his mind was running rapidly. If Bonaparte marched with the French Foreign Legions- who were under his command before they 'defected'- then… well, it certainly wouldn't ingratiate Italy with the other powers of Europe, even if it was a giant accident. Which he doubted. The messages they transferred from around Venice painted a picture of the Danubians looming just over the border...

After he finished reading the message aloud and his fellow finished the appropriate flag signals, he crumpled to the tower's floor. "This is it, then?"

"What's it, in this context?"

"War in Europe."

"Seems like it."

After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "Well, get up. The messages aren't to pass themselves."

"But…"

"Any message we pass on now could be of vital military importance, couldn't it?"

"I suppose…"

Excerpt from Rebellion in the Shadow of Napoleon

The exact nature of the second Napoleon's intervention is the subject of debate: was it truly an organic response to unrest in Grasse and the Midi more generally, or was it a false flag? Unsurprisingly, at the time, opinions on the matter depended largely upon if you supported the second's pretensions or not.

The Italians would, of course, maintain that the French Foreign Legionnaires defected against their wishes. Putting them all under the command of the then Prince of Corsica, Bonaparte the Second… well, it's not exceedingly hard to draw a conclusion.

Regardless, the cause for Napoleon's invasion was typically given as unrest in southern France, and more particularly a food riot in Grasse. How much truth there is to the rumor that he announced his ambitions for France in a perfumery is another unknown...

Omake (written at some arbitrary point in the future in universe)

Britannian relations with Amerindians tended to be fraught. There were moments of cooperation at times, although this could very much depend on the Viceroy in charge of the area. The granular nature of Britannian administration in the region also hurt communication- one Viceroy might be willing to cooperate and sign a treaty, but their successors or neighbors may not consider such a treaty binding. This- along with no shortage of actual backstabbing and disregarding treaties- gave the Viceroys a reputation of perfidy, at least in their dealings with natives.

The Indian Territory in the Ohio Country (now known as Indiana), while having been something of a client state for a while, quickly fell victim to ambitious Viceroys…

When Sequoyah invented his Cherokee syllabary, Britannians viewed it as amusing- in the way they might find a dog standing on its hind legs amusing. They found its ability to unite an otherwise dispersed Cherokee people considerably less amusing, however…

In the west, there was something of an empire- perhaps not a rival to Britannia as a whole, but certainly a thorn in the side of the Viceroy of Texas- in the form of Comancheria. Through raiding and trading, they carved themselves a place in the southern plains...

I was torn about this chapter's title, along with a number of other things… if you're interested in my process (and a rough map of this fic's Europe at the moment, along with explanations of any borders I've been fudging) then check out discord . gg / elibrary . I've got a channel and everything (at the moment). If you want more of my ranting about history, that's your place.

Also, shoutout to Lord Byron for proving to me that poetry doesn't have to suck. Considering that he died in our Greek War of Independence- a war that was decidedly French in this timeline- he's probably not dead here, leaving him around to write poetry like (possibly) the example which started this chapter. Was it any good? I took some heavy inspiration from Byron's Ode to Napoleon. Which itself could have gone unwritten…

This fic is a lot more fun to write than 1000 words on Hobsbawm… he gave me some interesting ideas tho. His Nations and Nationalism is pretty interesting so far, although I'm starting to think I may have underestimated communication difficulties due to language.

Anyways, next time: The State of San Marco! Possibly. Unless I focus on France.