Reincarnated as Napoleon



It was seven forty-five in the evening, and Napoleon was bidding farewell to the chateau's staff.

"It seems that everyone is accounted for," Napoleon commented as he made his way to the foyer where he found Ciela and his two children that were inside a stroller.

"Darling…" Ciela walked forward and embraced tightly. "I'm going to miss you.."

"I'm going to miss you too," Napoleon whispered back. He planted a gentle kiss on Ciela's forehead, savoring the moment of intimacy before reluctantly pulling away.

"I promise to return as soon as I can," Napoleon reassured her with a tone of sincerity.

"And be safe okay?" Ciela looked him in the eye.

Napoleon's gaze met Ciela's, and he saw the worry etched in her eyes. He reached out to cup her face with his hands. "I will."

After that, he moved towards the stroller where Aveline and Francis were peacefully seated, oblivious to the impending separation. Napoleon bent down and gently caressed their cheeks, a smile forming on his lips as he marveled at their innocence.

"My little ones," he murmured tenderly. "I know you can't understand me right now but Papa is going to war. Cool right? I'll be leading an army and once I defeat the enemy, the first thing I'm going to do is to return and pinch your cheeks again." He chuckled softly, pinching their cheeks gently, eliciting adorable giggles from Aveline and Francis. Their innocent laughter brought a bittersweet mixture of joy and sadness to Napoleon's heart.

He knew that this campaign would bring him glory just like the real Napoleon. But this is a different world so events can come out differently like him being fatally wounded and worst killed. But, he is never going to let that happen.

"General Bonaparte," Murat, who was standing by the door, gently called. "It's time to go."

Napoleon gazed a bit longer at his family, etching their faces into his memory, before straightening up and turning to Murat. He nodded resolutely and turned to Beaumont.

"Beaumont."

"Yes, sir?"

"I entrust my family's safety to you," Napoleon said, his voice filled with earnestness. "You have cared for them like your own, and I know you will continue to do so in my absence."

"You have my word, sire. I will protect them with all that I am," Beaumont said.

Napoleon reached out, clasping Beaumont's hand in a firm handshake. "Thank you, Beaumont."

With their bond sealed in that simple gesture, Napoleon turned away from Beaumont and exited the chateau. Waiting for him outside was the stablehand from the Great Stables, who approached Ebony, Napoleon's stallion, and handed him the reins.

Napoleon mounted Ebony and took one last glance back at the chateau. Moments later, he gently kicked his heels into Ebony's sides, urging the majestic stallion into a steady gallop. The chateau gradually faded from view as the landscape stretched out before him.

Two hours later, Napoleon, Murat, and ten personal guards arrived at the Paris Central Railway Station in Paris.

They dismounted their horses and handed them over to the station personnel, who stood ready to assist. The personnel then reeled their horses and loaded them into the train.

"Murat, you said that my other two aides-de-camp are going to join us here, right?" Napoleon asked.

"Yes, General. I believe they are approaching us now," Murat said, his gaze fixed on two men in military uniforms advancing toward them.

Napoleon followed Murat's line of sight and noticed the officers in their early twenties, whom Murat had mentioned. "Who are they?"

"On the left is Jean-Andoche Junot, and on the right is Auguste de Marmont," Murat replied.

"Oh…" Napoleon mused as he began to observe the approaching figures with keen interest. On the left stood Jean-Andoche Junot, a young officer with an imposing stature. His tall frame and strong features exuded an air of confidence, emphasized by his neatly combed dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

Beside Junot stood Auguste de Marmont, a slightly leaner officer whose demeanor exuded a sense of reserved composure. His light brown hair framed a face marked by intelligence, while his hazel eyes darted attentively, taking in every detail of their surroundings. De Marmont's crisp uniform and upright posture conveyed a disciplined and meticulous nature, as expected from an officer.

As they approached, Junot's confident smile radiated an air of self-assuredness, contrasting with de Marmont's composed expression.

Napoleon acknowledged their presence with a nod.

"So you are the General of the Army of Italy huh?" Junot asked, his eyes looking up and down at Napoleon's stature. "I didn't expect our commander to be seemingly at the same age as us."

"Watch your words, Junot," Marmont interjected, his tone laced with a hint of reprimand. He cast a brief glance toward Napoleon, emphasizing the need for respectful conduct in the presence of their superior. "You are talking to the General of the Army of Italy."

Junot, momentarily taken aback by Marmont's admonishment, quickly composed himself and cleared his throat.

"Apologies, General Bonaparte. I meant no disrespect."

"No harm done, Junot," Napoleon replied, his voice carrying a firm yet understanding tone. "Anyways, the rest of the army, where are they?"

"The headquarters at Nice," Marmont continued, "is where you'll meet the generals and coordinate the operations. They await your arrival to discuss the strategic plans for the upcoming campaign."

Napoleon nodded, absorbing the information. "What's our schedule for this trip?"

"The train shall convey us to Toulon," Junot declared, adopting a formal tone. "We anticipate reaching our destination by 10 o'clock in the morning. Once we arrive, we shall proceed to Nice on horseback, where we shall join the remaining forces of the army."

"Very well," Napoleon hummed in approval. He glanced at Murat and the two newly arrived officers. "Gentlemen, let us board the train and make our way to Toulon. Time is of the essence."

As they boarded the train, the sound of the engine rumbling to life echoed through the station. The carriages slowly began to move, and the journey to Toulon commenced. Inside the train, Napoleon found a compartment where he could gather with Murat, Junot, and Marmont.

"So who are the generals that I'll be meeting there?" Napoleon asked.

"This is the file, General Bonaparte," Marmont handed him the file.

Napoleon grabbed the file and opened it, perusing the content. His lips curled into a smile. The dossier contained the backgrounds of the four Marshals of the French Empire under the real Napoleon. Jean-Mathieu-Philibert Sérurier, Charles-Pierre Augereau, André Masséna, and Louis-Alexandre Berthier.

Among all the four, Berthier is the one that he found prized the most. His commanding of troops may be lacking but no one can deny his administration skill. He is surely going to need a man like Berthier to run the republic when he becomes ruler of France.

But that's not all of them, Napoleon knew that he would meet the other Marshals there such as Lannes and Bessieres.

"I can't wait to meet them," Napoleon muttered under his breath.

"General Bonaparte, I have forgotten to introduce myself," Marmont said. "My name is Auguste de Marmont, I believe we have seen each other at Toulon. I was a Lieutenant from the 1st artillery regiment."

"Really?" Napoleon exclaimed softly. "I didn't notice. I was focused on kicking out the British."

"How about you Junot, were you also in Toulon?" Napoleon asked.

"Yes sir, I serve as an aide-de-camp to General Dugommier," Junot answered.

Napoleon tilted his head to the side. In real history, his aide-de-camp at the time of Toulon was Junot, but somehow in this world, he wasn't.

"And I met General Bonaparte in Paris, stopping the uprising on the 13th of Vendemiaire," Murat proudly chimed in.

Napoleon chuckled. "Well since you three are my aide-de-camp in this campaign I wish that we form a strong bond and work together efficiently."

The three officers nodded in agreement, their expressions filled with determination and loyalty. It was clear that they were ready to give their all in service to Napoleon and the cause.

As the train rattled along the tracks, the compartment fell into a contemplative silence. The sound of wheels against the rails provided a steady rhythm, punctuated by the occasional whistle of the wind outside. Napoleon leaned back in his seat, the weight of the upcoming campaign settling on his shoulders.

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