…
…
'Napoleon, did you also have a best friend once?'
Napoleon's eyes burst open.
He clawed on his bed, drenched in cold sweat from his puffy face down to his deathly-pale toes as he drew in a violent gasp. His breath rapidly devolved into a series of choking hacks, as he coughed and wheeled off the sheets. He staggered his way to the corner of the grand bedroom and over a furnished table where there lay a heavy pan of water.
He splashed more of the hot water on his face with abandon for spilling it on the carpeted floor. Napoleon spat in the pan at the end, and would have to call up a servant to bring another bowl of freshly boiled water for his morning shave, but he was getting better now.
'Very soon, you will have lost your best general… you will have lost your best friend.'
Lannes. Jean Lannes, he remembered again.
It was not the worst dream he had had in a long time. Aspern-Essling was his first personal defeat since he became an emperor. At least he wasn't dreaming of Leipzig. Or of the retreat from Moscow; the nightmarish crossing of the Berezina; or the deadly news that an aristocrat had nearly usurped Paris with an insidious coup d'etat, deceiving Parisians that their Emperor was dead. Napoleon could hardly bear it at that time; he was crushed, beaten, and facing attack on all fronts. From the Russians, from his own Frenchmen, from bloody Britain, everything. He could trust nothing and no one.
But at least of all, he had not dreamt of Géraud Duroc. Poor Duroc, his dear friend; now dead too of course. It had been over a year ago. Géraud Duroc was the last to join Jean Lannes, and Jean-Andoche Junot; all three of his best friends, now at that black table in purgatory, waiting on their Emperor every night for the rest of his life. Every one of them - dead because of him.
Napoleon shivered as he glared at himself in the mirror. His pistol, his cufflinks and broken fob watch were on the brass table. His eyes turned towards the cord around his neck which held a small black locket containing not the engravings of his son and wife, but a cyanide pill. It was a souvenir he had ordered for himself during the retreat from Moscow. He had thought of committing suicide that day in Fontainebleau as soon as he had finished signing his memorandum of abdication. That was until he had entered the portal into this great new world; when Louise chanced him.
He should've brought an engraving of his son, and Josephine instead! - but oh, yes, Napoleon thought. He never really ended up signing his abdication before stepping into this world, did he?
The time, though. What was the time? It must hardly be six o' clock! The air in the room was freezing. Had the servants forgotten to turn it up past the twelfth hour this night, just exactly how he instructed them to do so every day? Alas, it didn't matter.
Napoleon wasn't a young man anymore. Not the same vigorous, headstrong captain he was during Toulon - throughout his Italian Campaign. Even in Cairo he had hardly been sickly, only having caught a light bout of malaria when nearly every Frenchman in that damned country was succumbing to all plagues. But ever since arriving in this world he could not take for granted just how much better in spirit he had been than during those last few days at Fontainebleau palace, after Paris had fallen. It was as if Halkeginia had brought him back to full mast again.
It did not change the fact that he was still now prone to acute illness which would definitely impede him in the long run. Napoleon knew that his constitution was all the same vulnerable to the attacks of nausea and thrombosis which had punished him for nearly ten years, even more so since he became emperor. It nearly crippled him at Leipzig, that battle which ended in his devastating defeat. If Napoleon went about ignoring it, it would no doubt catch up to him sooner or later while he was set out upon this new world of his.
He needed to set up his own personal staff; his own physicians for the sake of his health. It was possible that there were practices that could prolong his life even more, but Napoleon was not concerned with immortality. It was a wild dream for another day; now, all he needed at the moment was his health restored to allow him to deploy his full prowess whenever he wished.
Napoleon started to go on about his routine. He washed, shaved, oiled up his hair and combed, and applied eau de toilette to his face before dressing up in his guard grenadier colonel uniform. He went about in a lighting-pace, to the point it would be considered impolite. Ah, he would have to restore order and structure to this manor as well soon, for his sake, and get it staffed with a chamberlain, servants, and a line of personal valets, a kitchen staff, and an equerry to keep Napoleon's traveling horses. Sometimes he forgot just how tedious living by himself every day could get, and it was like he was back at his old apartment in Paris, during those unemployed years he spent carousing with a colleague, way before being deployed to Toulon.
Napoleon slipped out of the grandiose manor without a word, except for giving a passing greeting to the old master of the house, monsieur Girondin, who nodded silently in understanding of the enigmatic general. Napoleon began to walk briskly up the street. He pulled his stone-grey overcoat and turned away from the icy breeze. His beaverskin bicorne served poorly to keep his ears warm, but he would always prefer to wear it. He headed up towards the palace of Tristain. Not long, two dismounted chasseurs appeared, escorting behind him. With Tristania being redivided into 20 arrondissements, just like Paris, according to Napoleon's insistence to the young mayor, the past few days since their return were extremely busy; replete with overhauls, vicissitudes and tribulations of establishing a proper new government over the city. One day, Napoleon mused, he would gift the people of Tristania by turning their beloved city into a magnificent mecca of grandeur; endowned with fountains, boulevards, lamp-lit parks and plazas - just like Paris.
But the war was not yet over, so that art would have to wait. With almost the entire loyalist Royal Army having marched out of Tristania intact and at full strength, they inadvertently left the capital open to a nearly unforeseeable movement by Napoleon Bonaparte and Louise Francois le Blanc de la Valliere.
The Alliance army simply doubled back to occupy the capital and completely bring it under their authority without a fight. They didn't even move to fight Marshal Gramont at all, but ignored him. This now placed the loyalists, the Valliere-allied noble bodies and levies of Tristain at an officially diametric position to Tristania, which they knew was now under Alliance control - although the truth was that the Alliance had already been dissolved a week prior.
The combined loyalist army converging inside the Wardes' estate all answered to the authority of the Grand Duchess Lady Karin Desiree de la Valliere, and pledged loyalty under her and Marshal Gramont's leadership. This would be an army that numbered almost sixty thousand fighting men strong. Anything Napoleon had at hand was not even half of that giant formation. It was unknown what happened to the duke of Wardes - he must have been captured, as his estate had obviously now fallen to the loyalists and was being used as a staging ground for the Valliere forces.
Napoleon sighed. Refraining from his monologue, that morning he took a horse and rode up towards the Tristanian palace to join the Grand Marquise, Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere.
…
…
I have to seize my destiny. I have to show that I'm worthy to everyone, that I am not a worthless failure. Brimir, gods, grant me a familiar. Any familiar.
I'll take anything. I wished for a dragon, a griffin once, but not anymore. A mouse, a bird, even a demon. Yes, a demon!
I'll take a demon, Brimir! One who will destroy me, one who will swallow up everyone around me, the world, even Cattleya!
Even if I have to give up my soul and everything I love, grant me this wish, Brimir.
'Heed my summoning…'
"And bring forth… my familiar…"
Louise mumbled as she stirred slowly awake.
She sat upright in the warm, royal bed. It was fit for a queen. And she was now accustomed to sleeping in it. After all, she was now the only high royal left in the grand palace of Tristania.
Perhaps not quite, Louise decided, as she slid out of the sheets. The palace had been too comfortable for Louise, who had just been through a war. It had been over a week since she and Napoleon, together with the victorious Alliance army had marched back to Tristania and secured their city for good.
Louise walked over to the open balcony at the other end of the massive, furnished chamber. The warm sunlight bathed her face as she peered into the light. It was a beautiful day, one that she thought was more so than the past few days. When she first returned to the Tristanian palace, she was initially hesitant in using the royal chambers. But Louise slept like a log. She slept hard, and realised just how good a decent bed felt, and was surprised at her own fortitude remembering those bitter nights on campaign she spent in a bare tent, bivouacking at crossroad villages with the army and Napoleon, on a bedding that was grievously thin and spartan that she wondered if she could ever return to the comfortable life of a noble ever again.
There were too many things that needed to be done. But yesterday, most of all, the response to the armistice they had been hoping for was finally returned! Louise could hardly believe it, and felt relief wash over her when the royal chamberlain first knocked onto her door that morning. Now, she lounged on a cushioned armchair in the living room of her bedchambers, fiddling with a golden coin Napoleon had given to her as a memento during that night they marched back to Tristain. She remembered what it was: a 'franc', as Napoleon called it; basically the equivalent of the Tristanian écu.
It was worthless now, Napoleon said in passing, as it was from a different era. But Louise stayed up all night in the saddle examining it with great curiosity. It really seemed like it was of pure gold. There was the head of an angelic woman on one side, flanked by peculiar leafy branches Napoleon called 'lauriers', and a proud eagle on the other, bearing a three-striped flag. She tried to read the engravings on it again.
"Unity… Indivisibility of the Republic," Louise read softly.
The sight of it inspired something within her. Louise didn't know what it was exactly. Compared to the écu, this franc from Napoleon's country looked so much more beautiful. She wondered what France was like, as her partner often spoke of it very highly. Her cheeks turned a little rosy at the thought.
Maybe one day, Louise thought, she could give Tristain something beautiful just like this coin in her hand.
"Good morning, Your Highness, Grand Marquise Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere… His Excellency the Cardinal Regent Mazarin requests your presence at the dining hall. The household awaits you downstairs."
The palace chamberlain knocked on her doors patiently. Louise shoved the coin in the pocket of her gown and jumped up.
"I'll be right down in a moment. Thank you."
"Shall I have your valets come up and assist you, Your Highness?"
"Oh no, that won't be necessary. I'll make it quick."
"No need to hurry, Your Highness. Take all the time you need."
Louise gave a long yawn. She had learned a particular degree of reserve since all of this happened; it was really going to take some time before she could ever grow accustomed to being pampered again.
She started to comb her hair and washed her face over the bowl of warm water already in the grooming chamber, before nuzzling into a thick linen towel and going back across the room to start dressing up. She put on a chemise first, then a shirt over it and silk white stockings before donning a royal blue coatdress that had been tailored for her. It was not a dress exactly befitting a princess but more a resplendent military costume one would relate to decorated generals, or marshals. It was a sophisticated uniform, double-breasted, with dark red velvet lining, collar and turnbacks, and gold buttons and cufflinks. The woollen coattails draped down to calf-length and it was perfect for any journey she might set herself about. Despite not being a proper lady's dress, Louise was comfortable enough in it - it was something her partner would certainly approve of - and she had to admit; she was now growing a taste for practicality over elaborate pomp.
Finally she put on a rich purple scarf which she wrapped around her neck and tucked onto her chest like a cravat, before buttoning her breast over it; the rest of the way up to her neck. After a few more minutes, having put on a gold-embroidered light blue silken sash diagonally from her right shoulder, the mark of a high Tristanian royal, she put on another sash around her waist; a blue, white and red tricolour sash - the symbol of her solemn commitment to the army, the new Tristanian Assembly, and the people of Tristania. Louise fixed herself up for a few more things, she slipped into her shoes and readied herself before strolling out into the corridor.
Louise made her way to the staircase, then to the east wing of the royal palace, down an extravagant gallery. She was accompanied by two female valets who remained dutifully silent, until Louise passed the tall open doorway and stepped into the lavish dining room. A long table was set in the middle of the rectangular hall, as the windows allowed in ample sunlight which brightened the room. The table was laden with expensive plates, silver cutlery, crystal jugs of wine, fruit juices and other refreshments, as well as platters of mouth-watering dishes and servings of bread, pastries, charcuteries, soups and an array of fruits and salads imported from outside of the kingdom.
Not a lot of individuals were dining at the table. Louise noticed a small crowd of advisors, vassals, magistrates and royal attendants surrounding the room, and even a few minor nobles, but they did not take any seats. Cardinal Mazarin sat just to the side of the seat at the high end of the long table. Napoleon was present as well; and sitting at the low end of the table a seat away from him was a grey-haired, ancient-looking nobleman in an exquisite blue doublet.
"Good morning, Louise."
Napoleon turned to glance at her with a smile. So did the nobleman, who faced her with a warm countenance.
Cardinal Mazarin also spoke up, standing from his seat and walking over to Louise. "I'm glad, Your Highness. I hope that you are well rested. Come, the food has been prepared for you."
Louise relented, as the cardinal gently led her to the high end of the table and pulled over the chair for her. Louise sat, and began to peruse her breakfast with a golden fork right after taking a sip of tea.
"Louise, you may remember the Marquis of Touraine here," Napoleon began, looking up at her. "He was my aide-de-camp for some time, but was not very present since this whole recent debacle."
"I see."
Napoleon resumed his attention to taking bites out of the succulent cut of partridge, working meticulously with his fork and knife. The Marquis Touraine continued to remain silent.
Cardinal Mazarin glanced at Louise, a little disturbed.
"You should eat, Your Highness."
Louise sighed, putting down her cutlery. "Cardinal, could you please clear out the room? It's not easy when everyone's looking at me."
Cardinal Mazarin obeyed, and with a wave of a hand, the chamberlain in yellow livery, who had been standing near the wall behind Louise gestured for the squires to usher and file everyone out into the corridors. Within the next minute, the dining hall was silent and empty save for the cardinal, Louise, Napoleon and the Marquis of Touraine.
"Okay. What are we discussing, Napoleon?"
Cardinal Mazarin gently raised one hand. "Your Highness, it is not very proper nor tactful to be frank. We must dine first, and then proceed."
Napoleon grinned at Louise, and then beamed with amusement at the cardinal.
Why her title had to be one of a 'Grand Marquise' initially flabbergasted Louise.
Most of it confused her openly but there was reason to it as Napoleon elaborated on it more. Then Louise realized just how lacking, and how much more she had to learn when it came to being a ruler, and in essence a Valliere.
There was no doubt her mother could rule better than her. Her two older sisters could rule better than her. And Napoleon, her familiar, could rule over Halkeginia much better than her. It wasn't even a question: Louise understood it. But that was also why she found herself eager to learn and better herself under the emperor's tutelage.
"It would seem Louise is taking up from me. What do you think, Cardinal Mazarin?"
"She is a royal, the 'Grand Marquise' as Her Highness styles herself as. I would suspect you had a part in the idea."
"She is very concise now as well, and straight to the point."
"Her Highness cannot afford to be blunt or tactless, as being diplomatic and subtle are qualities essential of good rulers."
Louise finally interjected.
Irritated, she said, "Stop it. It's not really a big deal. So, what are we doing today?"
The Marquis of Touraine spoke. "I wish to pay my sincere respects, Grand Marquise de la Valliere. Truly, I am relieved upon hearing of your safe return to the city of Tristania. I've been informed of you and General Bonaparte's successes in the south, and how you managed to match Marshal Gramont and win two battles within one week. I came here with confidence to say that if there is any way that I can be of service to you, Your Highness, it would be an honour to do so."
"Thank you, marquis," Louise answered quietly. "Will there be anything else?"
Marquis Touraine gave a little smile. He began to get up from his seat and faced Louise. "I've heard about your father, the duke. My deepest condolences, Your Highness. Your father was a good man; I continue to pray to Brimir for his assailant to be brought to justice."
The marquis made a bow of respect, before excusing himself.
Napoleon did not look up, continuing to eat. Cardinal Mazarin watched this exchange closely.
Louise was now frowning, as she speared a piece of fruit with her fork.
"I remember the marquis. But he's never known my father. All of these nobles are the same; you do notice that, right Napoleon?"
"Your Highness, it would not be just to regard with prejudice- "
"Cardinal, please. Can you not call me 'Your Highness'? I am not a Queen yet, and it's as if I already am one."
"But he's right, Louise," Napoleon said, chewing well. He swallowed and sipped a cup of wine. "In effect? You already are, since we entered Tristania. You are virtually the only real royal residing in this palace, and one who possesses the rightful bloodline to sit on the throne at that."
"I am sorry General Bonaparte, but sometimes I find your bold disregard for the ways around this palace a little perplexing," Cardinal Mazarin remarked curtly.
"Napoleon's a noble in his own right, cardinal," Louise sighed, shaking his head a little. "Hard to believe, yes… he's an emperor too."
"Yes, Your Highness. It is quite very hard to believe. You've informed me of that since you took residence."
"Cardinal, I don't expect you to believe any of it," Napoleon shrugged. "Louise does, and that's enough for me. Besides, it doesn't really matter right now. What does matter is that we turn our attention to the real matters at hand."
Napoleon watched Cardinal Mazarin with subtlety. He knew that the cardinal was well aware of him being summoned by Louise - a familiar, as these people liked to call it - although if the cardinal shared the same deprecating sentiments as the nobles he had faced, Cardinal Mazarin made very little indication of this. Neither did it make any real impression, Napoleon noted, when he allowed Louise to expose a part of his truth to Cardinal Mazarin. He was an emperor but in this world… not yet. Napoleon pondered how he would transpose his reputation from a familiar to a noble in his own right, beginning with the cardinal.
"Napoleon, why is the Marquis of Touraine really here?" Louise asked impatiently. "There's a reason, I know."
"Of course. Louise, I am planning to appoint Marquis Touraine as the Grand Chamberlain of the palace, and my military household."
"Can he really be trusted, do you think?"
"Your Highness, Miss Valliere!" Cardinal Mazarin gawked. "Just a moment, please. This- these are serious matters. And who are you, monsieur Bonaparte, to be giving out suggestions on how to run a royal household? Why, I wouldn't let Touraine into this palace just as much as I would let him into my home."
"You do not trust him, cardinal?" Louise pursed her lips, examining her plate.
"I do not trust the marquis, or the general's inputs. Grand Marquise, as your effective regent, I advise that you do no such thing." Cardinal Mazarin squinted at Napoleon, "And do you have any reason to be taking in the Marquis of Touraine on a whim? As far as I know, he has never made his loyalties exact until now, that's coincidentally after Grand Marquise de la Valliere's triumphant return from the field. Because if it had been otherwise, Touraine would approach today and say the same thing to Lady Karin, wouldn't he?"
"You are right," Napoleon admitted with a shrug. "But that is exactly why we can trust him to some extent. Touraine may seem dull, lazy. But he knows where to place his loyalties when he wants to benefit himself. He would not take Lady Karin and Marshal Gramont's side now as there is not an incentive to do so. If Touraine doubted our position, he may turn tails, but now that we're occupying Tristania? Marquis Touraine will serve as a fine chamberlain; he is well experienced, with an excellent rapport firsthand, and if nothing else I can make good use of his services in my military staff. There is so much that needs to be manned. We'll just have to get used to some of the more unusual things about Touraine."
"I know it too well," Cardinal Mazarin grumbled. "That is exactly why I do not like the marquis. Brimir forgive me, I harbour the suspicion that Touraine is a wicked man."
"What do you think, Louise?"
"I don't care," Louise answered. "But the current chamberlain is alright with me; Sir Valengin, I think his name was. The marquis to me is just… he frightens me, Napoleon, ever since that duel we had. But if you wish to employ Marquis Touraine for your staff, it's your call. He's one of the nobles who's been around for a long time. And what do I think? I think the more nobles we can turn on our side, at least right now, the easier it will be for us to change Tristania and prepare to finally defeat Marshal Gramont and my mothe-… the Grand Duchess."
Cardinal Mazarin laid back in his chair, now a little more relaxed. Napoleon drained his cup, and dried his lips with a tablecloth, before crumpling it and placing it on the table.
"Cardinal, I'm very grateful that you've decided to stay in the city. Tristania is indebted to you and your unwavering dedication to governing all things in it."
"I do what I do only for concern over the good of the Crown, the people of Tristain, and as of now, to serve Her Highness the Grand Marquise to the best of my abilities. I understood that with the Royal Army completely moving out in support of Lady Karin and leaving the city undefended, and with many of the nobles abandoning their duties to take advantage of the situation and pursue their own interests, I saw it necessary that I remain steadfast despite everything, to stay to ensure the good and health of the city and Her Highness. I am the cardinal of Tristain after all and this is my duty."
"Marshal Gramont ratified the armistice the other night; the memorandum was brought to me at two o' clock in the morning," Napoleon said. "Louise, you've received it just as well yesterday morning, no? This afternoon, we're going to meet at La Fere, to formalize the armistice. I am intending to make the Marquis of Touraine chamberlain to our entourage, but since this contretemps with the cardinal, Count Noyon will be the one to make the introductions when we meet with the Valliere loyalists."
Louise began to smile, while Cardinal Mazarin remained stoic and serious.
Napoleon continued. "Given that Louise is not yet of age to rule, and to add to that, with her mother Lady Karin still on the horizon in command of a combined army sufficient enough to threaten and wage war on over half of Tristain, all to contest the Crown and enforce her right to the throne, Louise obviously cannot become a Queen during these times. Even then, proclaiming her Queen would solve very little; so would elevating her to become Duchess Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere. The truth is Louise is already eligible to become a duchess in her own right, being in possession of Tristania now, but as long as Lady Karin is around holding massive power and influence, anything we do to make Louise appear legitimate would be overshadowed. As a matter of fact, Louise is still an exile from the Valliere House as we speak.
"But as the new Grand Marquise? Louise will have a clear slate to define herself. The new Tristanian Assembly attended by the nobles for the first time four days ago recognized her as Grand Marquise. I introduced her to my officers and the army as Grand Marquise de la Valliere - ennobled her in front of twenty-thousand men and with my guard brigades giving a parade in honor to her. And when we first returned to the palace that morning, after our long march home, Louise first presented herself as the Grand Marquise to the court. Not quite a Queen yet… but quite damn close. Besides, doesn't everyone like the sound of it?"
Louise gave a dry chuckle. "It's not too shabby, Napoleon."
Cardinal Mazarin merely gave a cough. "It's quite… unprecedented."
"It will serve her well," Napoleon said. "I know so."
It was a title Napoleon had already prepared over a month ago, foreseeing with his impervious wisdom that it will not be that easy to establish Louise as Queen. They would have to deal with the nobility, to take the Crown by force if necessary, and then of course deal with Lady Karin, the Iron Duchess of Tristain. And then, there was also the fact that Napoleon didn't really want Louise to become a queen; not in the abstract, at least.
Louise would be much more tedious to manage then. But Napoleon needed to find a way to set the board for Tristain, to place the pieces in such a way that it would all play out according to his designs. Therefore the title of Grand Marquise fit her beautifully.
Grand Marquise Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere, second to commander-in-chief Napoleon Bonaparte within the Army of Tristania. Grand Marquise of the Tristainian Assembly. Grand Marquise and Queen presumptive to the Crown of Tristain; and First Dignitary to her country and her people.
And so Louise became the Grand Marquise, of the palace of Tristania and of the Tristanian Assembly; within the week that followed after their triumphant return to the city, much hell and upheaval had followed. The Alliance was dissolved upon their return, and the Tristanian Assembly was formally established to replace the Royal Court, which in effect had been absent since the Royal Army had left to side with the loyalists and Duchess Karin de la Valliere, leaving only a class of disorganized nobility.
Napoleon said, "In France, in my Empire Louise, I have had to make dukes and counts out of ordinary men - great men who have proven themselves honorable and loyal to me, but ordinary men still of humble beginnings. There is nothing to say we cannot do it here, if only it is titular."
"So is that all it is, titular?" Cardinal Mazarin asked.
"The Grand Marquise from now on is the presiding royal head within the Tristanian palace, and she is the First Dignitary of the Assembly. Since the Alliance council had now been dissolved and reconstituted as the Tristanian Assembly, and the army renamed the Crown Army of Tristania, her title will be without a doubt very legitimate - with all my powers, I bless her so. Louise is still the next in line for the throne after all."
Napoleon smiled. Louise's mother was challenging her, and she is far from superseding the Grand Duchess in wisdom and influence. Louise was politically weak, inconsequential, and young. But she was not too young to become a Grand Marquise of Tristain. And anyway, the Pope was the only person really capable of making a monarch - a notion Napoleon didn't necessarily adhere to. Still however, before there were to be any more power plays and kingmakings taking place, they would have to confront the Valliere Loyalists.
…
"Beatrice."
Louise frowned a little as she spoke.
The bastion where captives were being retained was no place for a noble, much less the young lady Beatrice Yvonne von Guldenhorf. The prison was old, its atmosphere suffocating and imposing, and the worst part was that there were really not many more prisoners being held in the stone, windowless cells - and Beatrice found herself a part of that unfortunate lot. Louise understood this, and her former classmate did not budge. The Guldenhorf girl was crouched at the foot of her bed into a ball. The guards had confiscated her cloak, and she was only wearing a dirty undress, her hair no longer fine but instead dishevelled. She stretched her legs and walked around the room, still not looking up at Louse.
"I know you despise me extremely, Beatrice."
"Have I made it that obvious, Zero?"
Louise perked up when she finally received an answer.
"I understand. And, well I don't blame you," Louise said.
Beatrice turned around. Her sapphire-blue eyes were cold as ice. She began to walk forward and stood before the grimy iron bars of her cell, facing Louise. Beatrice drew a severe smile.
"I guess it's not fair that I call you a Zero any more."
Beatrice laughed in a sad kind of way. She continued to glare at Louise.
"You've won. You've captured my dad, you've stolen the Crown of Tristain, you control the whole city now. Your familiar I hear is actually an unbeatable general from a different world. And you're a pretty decent mage too." Beatrice admitted this with a very suspicious tone of sincerity. "There you have it, Louise. Or should I say, Your Majesty."
Louise stepped forward instantly. "You should know that I didn't want this - to look like I'm stealing the Crown of Tristain? And do you think I mean to punish you for everything you did to me back at our Academy?!"
"It seems so, doesn't it, Louise?"
Louise conceded, and let out a shallow sigh.
"Look here, Beatrice. I won't be keeping you prisoner any longer - as a matter of fact, I never ordered this. But swear on your honor you will not oppose me ever again."
Beatrice broke out into a playful laugh, and gripped the metal rails in front of her.
"Oh, are you asking me to concede to you, Louise? To ally and support you, perhaps? Is that what you are expecting from me?"
Louise ignored her malicious taunts. "No. Irregardless, I will send for you and your father the Grand Duke to be released, effective immediately. I don't expect you to forgive me, or anything. Either you will or you won't. But I don't need it."
Beatrice stopped, and knitted her eyebrows at Louise.
Louise remained unfazed and continued to gaze at her with stern countenance. "I offer the House of Guldenhorf therefore a choice: you are free to leave Tristain with all of your property that which you can possibly bring with you. These are the same terms that I have offered the rest of the nobility remaining in the city. Or: stay, help me rebuild our country into something beautiful; pledge your loyalty and service to me, Beatrice, and you will accompany me to the heights of my rule as the next Queen of Tristain." Louise turned down her eyes momentarily, staring down at her shoes. Then she looked up, unsmiling.
"Attempt to take up arms against me or my constituents one more time, it will be high treason; and I will not flinch to execute you, Miss von Guldenhorf."
Beatrice was outraged, but no; she was stunned beyond comprehension. It wasn't that she was intimidated by this girl she used to know as the Zero… but when she opened her mouth, no words came out.
Louise gave a curt smile. A gesture she had copied from a certain French emperor.
"Your father is in the next room above this keep. Napoleon had been the one to repeat the same terms to him, but I guess your father is not very agreeable. Please convince him, Beatrice, for his sake and yours."
The two guard soldiers behind Louise moved forward, and one of them began to unlock the cell and slide the iron grille open to release the captive Beatrice. By then, speechless, Beatrice could only watch as Louise turned around and strolled off without another word.
…
Napoleon and Louise rode together as the berline pulled down the arterial boulevard of Tristania, headed for the military headquarters of the army at the southern 14th arrondissement of the city. After their return, the Alliance had been dissolved and formally replaced by the Tristanian Assembly. Four days ago, all of the nobles present at the Assembly were provided with clear options: they could choose to leave Tristain together with their families and any property which they could bring with them. There would be a notice for departure within a week, after then, any property or land they had left were to be requisitioned by the newfound Tristanian government, and before they were to be treated as emigrants; subject to being detained in custody.
The other choice was that they stay in Tristania, pledge loyalty to the new government, the Assembly, the authority of the Grand Marquise Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere, and vow to serve the country without question no matter what is required of them. That would mean donating wealth, opening their estate coffers to support the war effort and the new developments of Tristania, transferring all military powers and their levies completely to the Army of Tristain, and giving up a number of many old and mostly trivial privileges.
More than half of the nobles at the Assembly immediately took up opposition. The other portion was barely agreeable in considering accepting the alternative. Then it was made clear that the final other course would be of consequence to choose either one: the nobles who refuse to accept the proposals would be detained, their properties and wealth reappropriated against their will, and their royal titles and powers effectively stripped. They could try to run for the loyalists, but they were warned against it greatly. Nevermind that all of these nobles had magical powers - the sight of a hundred guardsmen armed with guns kept them from going mad.
Neutrality, Napoleon taught Louise, should sometimes be treated as one and the same as hostility. It made everything so much more simpler.
But Louise could not help but wonder if it was really the best course of action. She thought of her classmate again - even though she despised Beatrice, all of her ill will had completely dried up when she stood in front of her prison, and saw her rival in a humiliating condition.
Napoleon's pleased voice brought her back. "The Grand Duke will capitulate any day now, with his daughter turned to your side Louise. They won't try to challenge us anytime soon; they're checked. You did fine with handling the Guldenhorf girl."
"I didn't turn Beatrice to my side. She still hates me, and really, I don't blame her."
"All the same, with the Guldenhorfs in check and out of the way, we can deal with the Assembly next week. And then…"
Louise snapped towards Napoleon and took his arm. "Napoleon, I don't think it's possible for us to completely secure Tristania - I mean, I don't know what we're going to do with all of the remaining nobles that aren't on our side. Some of them are in the Assembly just to contradict us. We can't fight them, and I don't even want to think of actually killing them; oh no, that would be unspeakable. Sooner or later, everyone will hate us if we try that!"
"Of course, Louise."
"Well, fighting them is out of the question. But if we leave them alone, they'll just oppose us every step of the way."
Napoleon pursed his lips thoughtfully, as he looked out of the carriage.
"They'll sabotage our efforts. They'll plot, conspire, perhaps try to arrange having you and me assassinated. They'll even support your mother, Lady Karin's war," Napoleon said thoughtfully.
"Yes. How can we prevent them, then? Stop the nobles from doing all that?"
"We'll try to the best of our capabilities, Louise. I have my own elements at my disposal to restore order and control over Tristania, but in essence I cannot make any major moves to attack the nobility. Only you, Louise, can spearhead such a move."
Louise gaped. "Explain, Napoleon! I can fight, maybe I can lead some soldiers for a while, and all that stuff. But you expect me to suddenly bring down the whole nobility in Tristania?!"
Napoleon leaned back and crossed his arms indifferently. "Well, you don't have to deal with all of them, Louise. For that matter, we don't even have to deal with all of them at all. We just have to break them apart."
"Break them apart!"
"Do you have any ideas, Louise?"
"I would try arresting some of them, and putting them in prison. To stop them from conspiring against us; and maybe that will scare the other nobles from doing the same thing."
Napoleon grinned at his young partner.
"Very good Louise. But not a very gentle plan now, is it?"
"What do you think?"
"I think it's still a plan. You have valid reasons to propose so, Louise. Especially if the nobles are beginning to get criminal. But doing that would only further incentivize the nobles to act against you, if they perceive you as an authoritarian dictator instead of a benevolent Queen."
"Well I'm not a benevolent Queen, Napoleon," Louise muttered sulkily. "Though I wish I am, emperor," she added with a pout.
Napoleon laughed. He said, "No, what we need is a way to break them apart, and at the same time allow them to think it is their own choice; their own undoing.
"Back in my world, Europe, monarchs would retain superior power over their court by ensuring that those below him do not gather collectively against him. I suppose it is the same here, although I see that nobody has ever groomed you on that lesson yet, Louise. As Queen, it is not enough that you have power - you have to learn to possess it. To wield it with mastery, as a commander operates his army on the field. And if that is not enough: you must also ensure to restrict the power of those you rule over. You must keep them in check, just as an equerry keeps his animals in check, in order to prevent them from bolting, escaping - resisting their masters and causing havoc."
"I don't think I can do this, Napoleon." Louise stammered. "This seems all too much to me."
"Don't think, Louise! But you will learn. Oh, you will learn. My stepson Eugene grew to become the Viceroy of Rome. And so will my son, to become a king, and so will anyone whom I guide. I, after all, am the Emperor of the French; and if you have such a great patron guiding you, Louise, you have nothing to fear. It is why you have summoned me after all, isn't it?"
Louise stared at him. She thought of what she really wanted when she summoned her familiar- er, partner that fateful day, and if this is it, why was she hesitating?
Napoleon snapped his fingers. "So that's what I'll give you, Miss de la Valliere. Greatness, and your place among the stars. But it is solely up to you to take it for yourself."
"I will try, Napoleon," Louise finally answered, nodding vigorously.
"Good. Beginning now: since we have retaken the city of Tristania, we'll establish at once a new order. The Royal Army had already marched out of the city and left to join the Duchess Karin and Marshal Gramont a few days ago. A good number of the nobility, the royal palace staff and the court had also fled upon hearing the news of our return. I'll have to organize a new government and fill in the vacuum with trustworthy bureaucrats drawn from the citizenry. There is much work to be done to ensure the country does not break apart. I can take care of that, but dealing with the nobles will be much on your shoulders, Louise. Henceforth, you are the Grand Marquise Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere, First Dignitary of the Tristanian Assembly, and Queen presumptive of Tristain.
"We depart for La Fere in half an hour. Perhaps you'll see your mother again, Louise; don't be afraid. You are the Grand Marquise of Tristain. Be there when she signs the armistice."
…
On the island of Lobau that night, inside his tent, Napoleon snarled in between clenched teeth.
"Berthier!"
"His Excellency the Chief of Staff is not yet here, Your Majesty."
"Where is the Duke of Rivoli? Is he dead also?"
"I'm not sure, Your Majesty."
"Perhaps not, no. It's not Massena's style; have him come here at once."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Write!"
His secretary, sitting on a cushion in the antechamber, picked up a quill and dipped it in the inkwell. Napoleon began to dictate.
"Marshal Lannes. His last words. He said to me, 'I desire to live so long as I can be of service to you…'"
"Of service to you," his secretary repeated slowly, scribbling away at the desk.
"'And to our beloved France as well.' Add that."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"'But I believe that very soon you will have lost the one who has been your best friend…'"
Napoleon sniffed.
He fell silent.
His secretary's quill hung in the air.
Those were never Jean Lannes' words, yet here was he, already treating Lannes as if he were dead; as if his friend Lannes were just another pawn.
It was at this moment Napoleon realised this was his nature.
Something died in him that night, on that island of Lobau, leaving only an Emperor inside of Napoleon.
And so that Emperor screamed.
Napoleon gazed at the blue horizons over lush, green pastures of the Wardes estate, before removing himself from that train of thought and turning back to face Marshal Gramont in front of him.
The old marshal was sitting in an oak armchair across from him.
Marshal Gramont was dressed finely in his dull green doublet of the old Royal Army, a relic of a past era when King Henry II of Tristain still ruled. It was not a Duke's resplendent costume, but simply a feudal lord's military garbs. It was comparable to the simple uniform the general in front of him was wearing.
Between him and General Bonaparte was a flimsy square table. On it, a green and white chequered chessboard was prepared; the pieces were all frozen in midgame. Around them, men-at-arms and guards stood to attention like marble busts, unmoving, unflinching as the chess pieces on the tabletop.
It was now Napoleon's second match with Marshal Gramont. The French emperor opened with an aggressive Italian game. The Tristanian marshal defended beautifully, with positional brilliance. In five minutes, Napoleon had made several pins and checks, bringing out his queen early, not caring to castle, and moving to the centre his pair of knights. The emperor played aggressively. The marshal responded with the same intelligence: he held onto his pawns, fianchettoed his kingside bishop, and determined patiently, the complete opposite of Napoleon's attacking manoeuvres. In the next five minutes, the game was at a standstill again.
Behind Napoleon, a company of foot Guard Grenadiers were posted, their uniforms immaculate; they wore dark blue coats piped red with white facings, deep-red collars and turnbacks, and wore milk-white leather crossbelts and black breeches and gaiters over their newly-polished boots, which fitted very sharply over their calves and their feet. They were all strapped with heavy cowhide packs that carried their kit and their greatcoats, but none of them complained. They all wore massive bearskin hats with golden facing plates on each one; like crowns, these men wore them. These were not ordinary soldiers, but seemed like the infantrymen of a grand, powerful empire.
A few yards down, the squadrons of troopers all stood, perched on their muscular and fretful warhorses, making a light chatter as they stamped about tersely. The cuirassiers, on massive black destriers and in royal-blue coats and their shiny steel cuirasses requisitioned from the royal armory; the chasseurs-à-cheval, on swift brown and red horses and in dark green uniforms and fur colbacks, their gloved hands resting on the pommels of their razor-sharp sabres; the dragoons and the general light cavalry, all occasionally patting their horses' neck, or shifting the muskets resting on their shoulders, and prodding the ground with the butt of their lances.
These elite cavalrymen made the Royal Army pale in comparison. Behind Marshal Gramont were his own retinue of knight-mages, all mounted on white horses. Also a few paces away were a line of knights from orders represented by their standard-bearers: the Manticore Knights bearing the red, flower-bequeathed pentagram of the Valliere House, signifying that it was now under the family's leadership, the Griffin Knights - no longer bearing the insignia of House Wardes - and their fearsome half-avian mounts, and finally, while there were only a handful of them visible at the present moment, the Royal Dragon Knights; armored men clad in steel from head to toe, bearing striped 13-foot long spears and riding mighty reptilian beasts that breathed fire and were red as the ploughed fields of summer.
There were more orders of knights and men-at-arms, as Napoleon and his officers observed with great interest. There were the men-at-arms of the Duke of Walloon, an almost all-female order of knights drawn from the march of Halle, and columns upon columns of mercenary horsemen - far from presentable or honourable, but quite menacing with their assortment of arms and weaponry.
Napoleon's cavalry squadrons drew the same amount of interest, if not even more awe, from their rivals.
It surprised all of the royalists to see these colourful troopers with nearly no armour at all, save for their shiny helmets; the cuirassiers were the most heavily armed of Napoleon's entire formation. Meanwhile more than half of the Royal Army wore chainmail or plating of some sort.
Yet none of Napoleon's troopers showed fear at this glaring fact.
Colonel Jacques Edouard Bernard Stewart, stern and resolute, chewing a wad of tobacco, stood in front of the Grenadiers-a-cheval de la Garde; the invincible Colonel Foucard: at the head of the mighty 1st Cuirassiers-a-Cheval regiment of the line; Colonels Sainte-Janviliers de Macey and Paul Filibuster Camembert, both mounted, the former leading the proud Marquess Dragoons, and the latter, leading the 1st Imperial Guard foot grenadiers company, with captains Cartier Martin de Walloon and Gaspard Turpin respectively, along with the rest. Napoleon this time, while not yet wearing the favourite green chasseur colonel uniform, as his habit when on campaign (it was still being tailored in the city for him) was in effective command of the chasseurs.
This formidable entree of officers caught the eyes of Marshal Gramont, who knew proper, professional soldiers when he saw one. These men were formed for war. These were real warhorses, and serious troopers mounted on them, irregardless of whether they looked harmless, unarmored, or what anyone else from the Royal Army or even what his sons would say. Marshal Gramont needed only to look at their officers to know how deadly these cavalry squadrons could pose on the field.
Marshal Gramont knew, and even saw a glimpse of his son, standing within the proud squadron of green horsemen, his black colback strapped snugly over his head, the thick fur hiding his bright blonde locks, as if Guiche de Gramont trying to remain inconspicuous for his own sake. But Guiche's father did recognize him, and the marshal inwardly was both relieved and proud that his son was proving to be a proper soldier; most of all, Marshal Gramont was relieved that his son was still alive. But now, he would not dare talk to him.
Napoleon noticed the marshal glancing at the troopers for some time now. He spoke up.
"These are my Escort and Duty squadrons. They are the Army of Tristania's finest Guard troopers drawn from four newly raised and formed divisions of cuirassiers, chasseurs, dragoons and chevauxlégers lanciers. Of these four elite squadrons, the chasseurs-à-cheval have the distinction of being the honor guards to Louise and her entourage. Twenty-eight chasseurs are surrounding us at all times, and there are four troopers that clear a way ahead. These four troopers will immediately dismount when Louise does, and follow her, as you can see."
Napoleon coolly stated, "as time passes by, there will be more of these fine men to compose our army. As of now, our army has returned to Tristania just barely holding itself together. The armistice will help us shore up our losses and prepare to confront Lady Valliere, if necessary."
"I would suppose you are enticing me into breaking the armistice and attacking Tristania at once. Aren't you, Emperor Bonaparte?"
Napoleon blinked for a split second, then laid back in his chair.
"Perhaps," Napoleon shrugged.
"And perhaps not. But either way marshal, if you break the armistice I will not hesitate to march out and confront your forces. Tristain is now a hair away from receiving the rightful Queen she deserves, and I will not allow that to be contested any longer. With this armistice, we shall rebuild a grand army befitting of protecting and fighting for our new state."
Almost an hour ago, they had arrived outside of the town of La Fère in Wardes territory. Count Noyon had been the one to open the formal introductions, showing forward General Napoleon Bonaparte, commander of the Army of Tristania, and her Highness the Grand Marquise, Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere, First Dignitary of the Assembly and Queen presumptive to the Crown of Tristain. After they dismounted, the count and the Grand Marquise, followed by her chasseur guards proceeded to the Valliere marquee. Napoleon contented himself with meeting once again the Marshal Gramont and playing a game of chess against him, with discussions interspersed. Napoleon pondered for a moment what could be going on inside the tent, with his partner and the Valliere entourage.
Napoleon said, "Anyway, what led you to the idea that I am an emperor?"
Marshal Gramont merely gave a wrinkled smile. He did not answer immediately, and turned towards another direction.
"You have no proper cavalry to match us. Those green, unarmored troopers look beautiful and immaculate; they will not withstand a charge by the Halle knights."
"If you say so, marshal." Napoleon shrugged. "Aside from war, though. The Grand Marquise and I have a great lot to do for our citizens;... are we still discussing the game of chess?"
"Ah, is there really a difference?"
"Why yes, marshal."
Marshal Gramont pursed his lips. "For how brilliant and much of a genius you were on the battlefield, it seems you are quite a mediocre chess player."
"We should discuss the best scenario where we reach a full peace, and accept the Grand Marquess as the next Queen of Tristain…"
"You've driven off Jean and the Duke of Walloon. That does not make it decisive; the Royal Army is prepared to retake Tristania. We are still in a position of strength, General Bonaparte."
Napoleon knitted his eyebrows. He said in a cold voice, "Chess is too difficult to be a game and not serious enough to be a science or an art."
Just then, the Grand Marquise Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere had come out of the royal headquarter tent, her cheeks slightly puffy and her eyes sullen, as if she had wept. She must've bid farewell to her sisters, but the Grand Duchess probably received her with fatal disposition. It was time to leave. Marshal Gramont merely nodded.
Napoleon shrugged, and reached over the chessboard and toppled the black king with his thumb. Checkmate.
That day, he had been defeated for the second time by Marshal Gramont. The emperor had not won a game yet, and it was irritating him.
.
.