"In revolution, there are two sorts of men: those who cause them, and those who profit by them."

Napoleon Bonaparte

…

…

"WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The shriek of squalling infants and children flooded the Mayor's palace in the capital of Tristania. They crowded next to one another, seeking comfort and protection in the arms of each other. Few seemed to take notice of the splendid tiled floors on which they sat, nor the beautiful brass columns which held the ceiling up. It was hardly unexpected – just a few hours ago, the tiny trinkets and the home in which these orphans lived had been ripped away by a great fire.

The mothers of the orphanage jostled through the children, passing out bread and talking to the children. But amidst those women, a man dressed in a blue military uniform also helped. His thin, sallow hair draped over his face as he doled out the food with a smile on his face.

Napoleon Bonaparte inwardly chuckled at his actions. He had once ruled an entire continent, had been the most powerful man in the world, and had created an empire which had been without equal since the days of Charlemagne, if not Augustus himself. But now here he was, doling out foods to orphans in a completely different world.

A different world indeed, he thought, as he turned to look at a palace wall. His partner, Louise Francoise le blanc de la Valliere, the one who had summoned him to this land of Helgekinia lay on the wall, her eyes closed with sleep and her long pink hair almost covering her like a blanket. Two woman stood behind her – one was a tall woman, with short blonde hair, her eyes continually darting from Louise to the orphans to the orphanage mothers to the other woman besides Louise. This was Matilda Duvall, who had once been the famous thief Fouquet. Captured by Napoleon's men, she had sworn loyalty to Louise and had changed her appearance to hide herself from those who wanted to hunt her down.

The other woman was also a blonde, though her hair was longer. She wore a green tunic, but it only served to barely cover her…assets. What was her name again? Right, Tiffania. Matilda seemed to care about Tiffania a great deal, but even Napoleon was not totally sure why.

Napoleon had considered rousing Louise from her sleep to make her help the orphans, but he decided otherwise. She had won a great victory, after all. Matilda had told Napoleon what had happened in front of the orphanage. About how Louise's former fiancé, the son of Lord Wardes, had with his comrade Menvil attacked and burned the orphanage to find Tiffania. Louise had fought the younger Wardes, who had once been a loyal knight of Tristania before turning traitor, while Matilda and Guiche de Gramont had fought Menvil. And Louise had won, though Wardes had managed to escape.

Napoleon could hardly believe it himself. Yes, he had seen Louise's potential from the day she had summoned him – it was the reason he had chosen to stay with the young girl after all this time. He had seen the effort she made to prove herself a mage worthy of the Valliere name, even when her mother had disowned her. But it was the first time she had won a true battle to the death, and against a triangle-level mage too.

So, he would let her rest. He would deal with taking care of the orphans. He had recently secured control of Tristania, the capital of the country of Tristain, but his grip was not that powerful. He needed time to earn the loyalty of the people.

"General Bonaparte!"

Napoleon looked up towards the entrance. A burly, bearded soldier, over 2 meters tall stood at attention. Pausing to distribute a little more bread and to excuse himself from the orphanage mothers, Napoleon strode over to Owen Foucard, a former comrade in arms who he had appointed to take charge of Tristania's internal security.

"Yes, what is it?"

"The old city watch commander has offered to turn over his men over to me. They would join the Internal Security Army of Tristanian Safety but I wanted to talk to you about-"

"Slow down for a moment. The what?"

"The Internal Security Army of Tristanian Safety." Foucard declared. "You gave me orders to establish a new organization to ferret out spies and traitors, but you never bothered to give it a name. Does it displease you, sir?"

"Fine, fine, call it what you please." Napoleon said. "But what is it? Is there some problem with the old city watch?"

"None, sir. Or rather, none which should concern you. The city watch is corrupt to a man. Every Tristanian knows how they shake down the merchants and people for 'protection'. It's unbefitting of a soldier. But if you have any objections to me placing the city watch under the command of the Internal Security Army, I will see it done. After I purge them of criminals, Valliere loyalists, and traitors."

"I have no problem with it. Is there any other business, Foucard?"

"There is one more thing. A messenger recently arrived from Lord Guldenhorf, sir. Here is the letter that he had with him."

Napoleon took the letter and tore it open. His expression remained impassive as his eyes travelled down the pages. After reading it only once, he then tore it into pieces.

"Tell Matilda to tell Louise that I will be out for a while, but I will return to my chambers later this evening. I hope that she can see me when I return from my preparations."

"Preparations? Preparations for what?"

"Leaving." Napoleon said. "Guldenhorf has summoned me. Walloon and Gramont are preparing to attack, and Guldenhorf wishes my presence. He did not explicitly ask for it, but I intend to bring what forces I can muster – whether he wants them or not."

Foucard nodded. Without another word, Napoleon left the palace, away from the squalling orphans and his sleeping partner.

…

…

"Is everything ready, Captain?"

"I should like to demonstrate it myself, sir."

With those words, a gruff, bearded man with clothes like those of a tramp drew a beautiful sword. He pointed it across the parade ground, at a group of around 50 men. Napoleon stood alongside the bearded man, dressed in a full military uniform, complete with a sword buckled at his side.

"Ready!"

As Napoleon watched, the fifty men began the steps to load the flintlocks which they had received. The bearded man next to him, Captain Jacques Stewart, shouted the steps to load, position, aim, and finally…

"FIRE!"

The sounds of triggers being pressed could be heard, but that was all. None of the guns actually fired. Captain Stewart shrugged and turned towards Bonaparte.

"That's the best we can do for now, General. We have managed to make and scrounge up enough powder and balls for a short battle. But we cannot afford to spare what little we have in order to actually practice firing them. These pantomimes are the best that we can do for now."

"Of course." Bonaparte nodded. "If I'm correct, we do have around 600 soldiers under our command, correct?"

"800, sir. Many of them are currently patrolling the streets right now, but I will have them ready to march as soon as possible. We will be marching south, correct?"

Napoleon pulled out a map and laid it out on the parade ground.

"This is a map of the country of Tristain. As you know, the capital is in the northwest portion of the country. The first family, the Vallieres control the east and the border with Germania. The second family, the Guldenhorfs, our supposed allies, are directly north of the capital. Meanwhile, the Vallieres' main allies in the families of Marshall Gramont and Walloon control the southwest and the center of Tristain respectively, while the fifth family, Wardes, is stuck in between Guldenhorf, Valliere, and Walloon lands. While of course the lesser families have been far more varied in which side they've chosen, if they've not chosen to remain neutral, the safe rule of thumb is that the southern, western, and eastern Tristain families support the Valliere family while the north and center are opposed.

I received a letter from Guldenhorf recently which stated that the Gramont and Walloon armies are marching together to link up with one another. Guldenhorf is moving to attempt to intercept them, but consequently, since I am nominally the head of the anti-Valliere Alliance, he is demanding my presence."

"Guldenhorf can summon tens of thousands of soldiers." Stewart observed. "I must admit, General, I did not expect him to summon you at all."

"I am slightly surprised myself. Guldenhorf is more powerful than either Gramont or Walloon, and could even beat them even if they do combine. Yet Guldenhorf would not bother to ask I come if he was feeling completely confident." Napoleon mused. "Unless…"

"He is worried about facing Marshall Gramont?"

Napoleon nodded.

"Possibly. Marshall Gramont is an old man, but he is a legendary commander. He stamped out many rebellions against the Royal Family's rule in his youth and is renowned for his strategic skills. Guldenhorf likely wants every soldier he can get in order to ensure his victory, even if he would prefer that I did nothing."

"Begging your pardon, sir," Captain Stewart asked, "But perhaps it might be better to wait in the capital and refuse Guldenhorf's summons?"

Napoleon looked over at Stewart.

"What are you suggesting?"

"That we wait and bide our time, sir. This could be a trap. You may be the nominal head of the Alliance, but Guldenhorf is the true head, and he has every reason to keep you out of the way. If you go, he could overwhelm the few men that you can bring with you, and take you and Louise hostage. It might be better until you can approach Guldenhorf from a position of strength."

"You may be right." Napoleon said. "If I had time to wait, I would probably decline. Unfortunately, I do not."

"But if you wait, you could strengthen your control over the city."

"Not necessarily." Napoleon responded. "For a time, yes. The people are generally supportive of my execution of the previous mayor and the security I've provided. But the execution of the mayor was a spectacle. The amusement from spectacles do not last forever. Eventually, the people will suffer from the hardships of war, from losing their sons and brothers, not to mention the general deprivation that war creates. And since I would be running Tristania? I would get blamed for it. In the meantime, if I go and win? I become a hero and even more popular."

Stewart nodded, and then stood rigidly at attention.

"Very well." He declared. "I will admit that I still do not like it, sir, but I understand. Please allow me to accompany you."

"I would insist that you do. And do not worry, Stewart. If Guldenhorf attacks, then he loses Tristania. He is already at a disadvantage in this war to begin with; he cannot afford to lose what few advantages he does have. Now if you do not mind, I need to ask you about Guiche. How is he?"

"He's doing better." Stewart said. "He was a right mess when he arrived a few days ago. I can't really blame him. He clearly didn't want to fight against his family, but thanks to that stupid oath he took to serve you to the end, he had no choice. Still, that fight against those mages that attacked the orphanage seems to have helped him a bit. The soldiers threw a great welcome for him when he returned a while ago. He's currently out patrolling, but the word is that there might be a party at the barracks tonight."

"And you intend to break it up?"

"Oh, come now, General Bonaparte." Stewart grinned. "I know the men view me as a harsh drillmaster, but it's to celebrate a good soldier and his valor today. Just as long as they don't get too raucous, I'll look the other way. Just this once."

"He's not a good soldier, Stewart." Napoleon observed, bending down to roll up the map. "He's a good mage. And those are even rarer than good soldiers."

"So, you intend to take him along with you?"

"Yes. Is there a problem? You were just praising him, after all."

"Of course." Stewart said. "But the fact remains that he's a former Gramont, and on top of that, his girlfriend's family, the Montmorency family, is fighting for the Vallieres as well. No doubt I can count on him to fight men who seek to burn down orphanages. But what about if I need to fight his brother Robert? Can we count on him then?"

"All the more reason for him to come along. If we cannot count on Guiche's loyalty, then it is best that he stays close so that we can keep an eye on him."

Stewart nodded. Napoleon stowed the map in his coat and saluted his captain.

"We will be leaving in two days, at most three. Make sure the men have not drank themselves to death by then."

"Very well, sir."

With those words, Napoleon left the barracks. But when he was certain that Stewart could no longer see him, he grabbed his sword with his left hand and drew it partly out of its scabbard. As he did so, the old runes, the symbol of his contract with Louise as familiar and master, glowed.

Stewart was not wrong about his concerns of a Guldenhorf trap. But there were things he did not know about, and which he did not need to know about. Even if he practically never used his power, Napoleon was the Gandalfr familiar, capable of defeating thousands of soldiers with his legendary mastery of arms. Louise was a Void mage who knew spells which could devastate an entire city. It's not like Guldenhorf knew of those things either – but if he did try to bully Napoleon, or even worse take him hostage, he would find himself in a fight for his life. He would almost certainly win in the end given sheer force of numbers, but he would then be in utterly no shape to fight Gramont and Walloon.

Still, a trump card should always remain hidden until needed. If Napoleon began to suspect treachery by his "ally", then he would act. But only then.

…

…

"What, exactly, are you suggesting, Giono?"

As opposed to the hard parade ground of the barracks, Napoleon sat in a comfortable chair, a glass of wine in his hand. He couldn't help but pat his belly in contentment. He was at the home of his colleague Andre Giono, who had once been a printer but these days seemed to spend as much time hobnobbing with cultural figures and brokering information as he spent dealing with ink stains. Giono had grown fabulously rich from his newfound trade, and the two had just finished an excellent supper. Giono, a thin, balding old man, sat on the other side of the table. He only had water besides him, and a finger on his cheek suggested that he was deep in thought.

"I must admit, I was rather surprised at first." Andre Giono stated. "You know, Napoleon, given how long we have been working together…you did not plan this fire, did you?"

"No."

Giono looked at Napoleon for a few moments, then slowly nodded his head.

"I thought so, but I needed to make sure. Still, my agents have indicated that the response so far has been fairly positive to your reaction to that attack. But well-"

"Fairly positive?" Napoleon inquired. "I stopped an orphanage from going ablaze and threatening the entire city. How could the reaction only be fairly positive?"

"Well, that is the problem, Bonaparte. You didn't stop the fire. The Valliere girl did."

"What?"

"To be fair, from what I heard, your partner did not stop the fire either." Giono declared. "Her servant Matilda did by defeating the fire mage Menvil. But you have to look at what the common people saw. There was a fire, Wardes's son was running around, then Louise defeated him and the fire ended. Naturally, in the eyes of the people, Louise is the one responsible for stopping the fire, and she is the savior of the city.

Now, that is obviously not a major problem. Louise is loyal to you, and you responded to help the orphans afterwards. And as you know, the people were already grateful since you overthrew and executed the earlier mayor. But, for now, it is Louise who is the hero of the day."

Napoleon chuckled, and Giono raised an eyebrow.

"Is something wrong, Bonaparte?"

"No, nothing not at all." Napoleon smiled. "I must say, Giono, you underestimate me. You make it sound like I should be jealous of Louise or something."

"No, sir, that is not that I-"

"This actually works out better for me. As you said, the people were already generally loyal to me, and the orphanage fire certainly did not hurt my popularity. If the praise of the people is showered on Louise, then she will become more confident in herself. And a Louise who is more confident in herself makes a better magician, which will help in the war. I know I need every advantage I can get to defeat all of my enemies."

Napoleon raised the glass to his lips, and then stared at Giono again.

"You have another question on your mind, do you not, Giono?"

"Yes. You told me just now that you, Louise, and your soldiers intend to leave Tristania within the next few days, do you not?"

"Correct. We need a little longer to prepare before marching north, but we should leave within three days at the most."

"Well, who is be in charge of Tristania when you are away?"

Napoleon arched an eyebrow.

"An odd question, Giono. I believe that during the last Council meeting, we had appointed a new mayor. A nice young commoner. He's willing to do the right thing, and he's reasonably capable. You of course will work to ensure the loyalty of the people, while Foucard and his new organization, the Internal Security Army, will protect them. I had thought it would be obvious."

"Sir, you did not quite answer the question. Yes, I know what my duties are. But who answers to who?"

A glint shone in Napoleon's eyes.

"The two of you are to answer to the mayor, naturally. But if there are any true conflicts, well, then I leave that up to your discretion. After all, I know I have your loyalty, Giono?"

"Y-yes sir!" Giono declared. "I thank you for the opportunity."

"I gave you no such opportunity you could have not seized for yourself." Napoleon responded. "I do expect to receive regular reports from you about what's going in Tristania and the rest of the country."

He drained the cup and set it down before standing up.

"One more thing, Giono. What news of the maid?"

"I have failed to find her. It's peculiar. She seems to have dropped off the map completely. I had suspected that someone working for the Vallieres found her, but the Lady Valliere is the kind of person who would put the maid up publicly as an example of justice."

"True." Napoleon mused. "Well, it is of no matter. I had hoped to find her, but I doubt she will play much of a role in the events to come. At this point, if you find her, just kill her and dump her in a ditch or in a river or something like that. There will be no need to make a public example. In fact, it may in fact be harmful as it would cause the people to think about Louise's father's death, thus stirring up further sympathy for the Valliere cause."

Giono nodded, and Napoleon left the house. This time, Napoleon would finally be returning to his home.

…

…

Napoleon had intended to rest by the fire when he returned, but unfortunately for him, nature called. He stayed in the privy for quite a long time, and by the time he exited, his face was drawn and haggard. Over the past decade or so of his life, relieving himself had always been a painful and arduous task, and the rich supper at Giono's house had not helped in the slightest.

Still, the pain couldn't help but remind Bonaparte of something important. He was 45 years old, no longer a young man. True, the presence of healing magic in Helgekinia meant that their nobility lived considerably longer than the elites of his old world, but Napoleon had pushed himself to the limit his entire life, fighting for glory. The reality was that he would be lucky to survive another twenty years of life. And how much could he accomplish? Even if he defeated the Lady Valliere, King Joseph Gaul, Guldenhorf, and everyone else who would threaten his drive for power, what would he be able to leave behind in the short time he would have left? Especially with his son Napoleon the second back on Earth?

He slightly limped over to the fireplace, sat down on a cushioned chair, and closed his eyes. The men of his world had always looked to Jesus Christ for inspiration. Those of Helgekinia looked up to Brimir. But Napoleon had always followed a different role model. Ever since he had read the Commentaries by Julius Caesar, it was him who he had looked up to his whole life. Caesar, who had overthrown the corrupt Senators, who had fought for Rome his entire life, and who had established the glorious Roman Empire. The Roman Empire that Bonaparte had admired so badly that he had styled himself Consul upon taking power and had his soldiers carry legionary eagles like the old legions. Caesar's legacy rested to this day, and had he not ruled for only five years? There was also the Roman emperor Aurelian, who in the 3rd century had brought order to the empire, saved it from the barbarians and the Palmyrians, only to be murdered just like Caesar. He had also ruled for a mere five years. If they could accomplish so much in 5 years, than he could certainly do as much in ten. Still, if he wanted to truly preserve his legacy, it would be necessary for him to have an heir at his age – but didn't he already have someone who would be fully capable of continuing his legacy.

Napoleon opened his eyes and looked over at said potential heir. Louise stood in the doorway. She was wearing the school uniform of the Tristain Academy of Magic. Louise had not been back to the academy since Princess Henrietta's death, Napoleon mused, but it was clear that she felt nostalgia for it – even if she had learned more in the past few months about people and magic than a thousand years at the Academy could have given her.

"Is there something you're waiting for?" Napoleon asked. "Come, sit. It's been a long day, for both of us."

He waved to another chair by the fire, and Louise complied.

"You were sleeping back in the palace there. Are you feeling all right?"

"I feel fine." Louise softly said.

Napoleon was slightly surprised by Louise's reaction. He was proud of her, he had said that much to Giono. Yet even though she had worked so hard to prove that she was a great mage, and shown it by defeating the younger Wardes…she didn't seem that proud of it herself.

"Are you sure?" Napoleon inquired. "Louise, is something wrong?"

"You know, Napoleon, that I was engaged to Wardes, right?"

Napoleon nodded.

"Did you know that it was since I was a child?"

This time, he shook his head.

"I'm sure you knew this already, but when I was a child, I couldn't do magic then either." Louise said. "Mother lectured me about it, Father was too busy managing the estate to do anything about it, Cattleya was ill, and Eleanor would join mother in the lectures. There was a boat by the lake where I would hide when I felt particularly depressed. No one knew about it. No one but Wardes. He would talk to me, cheer me up, and give me the strength to fight again.

If I think about it, I don't know if I ever loved him. But I know I admired him and trusted him. So when the reports came out about how he turned traitor, I didn't know what to do. And then, well, I met him. He told me that he was responsible for Henrietta's death. And that man who I had trusted? There's no one, no one in the world now that I hate more. I told him that I would kill him painfully for it, and I would have killed him if his pet griffon hadn't got in the way.

So, I'm just confused about everything. What does it mean to hate someone? What does it mean to love them?"

"They're similar, you know?"

"What?"

Napoleon sat back further into his chair.

"A long, long time ago, I know I told you about Josephine. Do you remember what I said?"

Louise thought back. It was a long time ago before the war with Albion had begun, shortly after Princess Henrietta had given her the Water Ruby, the ring which she still wore to this very day. He had called it a "stupid tale."

"There was once a man who was just a young officer." Napoleon continued. "The government he served passed a law banning all weapons, and the sword of a dead man was confiscated. The dead man's son implored me to return the weapon. I did so, and the dead man's widow came to thank me. She was a sophisticated, refined woman who had fallen upon hard times – much like some of the noble families here who were once great, but now no longer so.

I paid the widow a visit, and fell in love. She spurned me at first, but eventually we were married. But I rode off to fight battles, and she stayed back home. And when I was away, she incessantly flirted with other men, and sometimes did more."

"You mean that-!" Louise stammered, her face now bright red.

"Yes. That's what I mean." Napoleon said. "When I found out, I was enraged. I had a half a mind to abandon my campaigns, return home, and strangle the guts out of her. I obviously did no such thing. But that woman I had loved, I now hated. I would fall in love with her again, be enraged when she did more affairs, and the cycle repeated itself until we split apart for various reasons.

I'm not saying you still love Wardes. But there's nothing wrong in hating someone you loved. If anything, it's all the more likely to happen to those we love."

Louise nodded.

"Okay then." She said. "I'll be fine, okay? I know I've done a good thing, and I doubt we'll be seeing Wardes again for a while. But Napoleon, when are we going to be leaving?"

"I don't recall telling you about that yet." Napoleon responded.

"Foucard told me." Louise shrugged. "I'll admit that I don't like him, Napoleon. His new organization, the Internal Security Army? He talks about it too much. I have a bad feeling about it. I guess we'll be meeting up with Guldenhorf at last?"

Napoleon nodded.

"We'll need to get ready." He said. "What about Matilda? Will she accompany us, or will she stay here to take care of Tiffania?"

"Er, about that…"

"Huh?"

"Matilda is coming along. With Tiffania. After all," Louise declared, with just a hint of her normal pomposity, "She IS my servant! And if she needs Tiffania around, then there's no reasons she can't come along either."

"I have no objections." An elf was always useful to take around anyways to scare the others, Napoleon thought to himself.

The two then fell silent for a moment, staring at the fireplace. But Napoleon cleared his throat. It was time to bring up the main subject, the reason he had called Louise tonight. It was the reason he had been thinking about his legacy, and the time he had left.

"Louise, there is something I would like to ask you. It's something important."

"What is it?"

"To get straight to business, I would like to make you my heir."

Louise gaped at those words.

"Come again?"

"It's as you heard," Napoleon said. "I would like to make you my heir, and for all purposes and intents adopt you as my daughter. You would become Louise Francoise Bonaparte, if you desired. If I die, you receive everything I own."

"D-die?!" Louise stammered. "Wait, are you ill? Are you okay, Napoleon?"

"We're going to war, Louise." Napoleon sighed. "Only a fool leaves his affairs out of order before he marches off to battle. So, what do you say?"

Louise sank back into her chair in clear shock, but did not say a word as the minutes ticked by. After a moment, Napoleon cleared his throat.

"I understand that this is a shocking proposal to you, but I think it's for the best. I won't deny that I worry about your future if I am gone. There are many who want you dead, Louise, and at this point you are no longer a Valliere. If I was to adopt you-"

"I am still a Valliere."

Napoleon stopped talking. Louise stood up from her chair and looked directly at him.

"I am still a Valliere, Napoleon. I was born a Valliere, I have lived as one, and I shall die as one."

"You are no longer a Valliere, Louise." Napoleon pointed out.

But Louise shook her head.

"It doesn't matter. In my heart, I still am one, regardless of what my mother says. I owe what I am to being born one, to being taught the right way to live. I love them all, even after everything. Cattleya, Eleanor, Mother, and Father, May Brimir rest his soul."

She shook her head, but then flashed a sardonic smile.

"Besides, don't you think you're getting a bit arrogant, Napoleon? I summoned you. You're my familiar. Sure, we're partners now, but that means partners. Equal. A daughter isn't equal to her father, you know!

So no, Napoleon. I know you're looking out for me. Or rather, I think you are. But I refuse. I will stay as I am – partners to you, and a Valliere in here."

She pointed a finger at her chest. Napoleon shrugged in response.

"Very well. But my offer is still on the table. If the point ever comes when you wish to take it, let me know.

Now, I am going to rest. We are going to have a busy few days, preparing to the journey to Guldenhorf's camp."