Reincarnated as Napoleon II-Chapter 101: The Army and the Counsel

Napoleon II entered the Chateau de Vincennes and passed beneath the stone archway into the inner corridor.

Imperial Guards stood posted along the walls at measured intervals. Each snapped to attention as he passed, rifles held tight against their shoulders. Napoleon II acknowledged them with a small nod but did not slow his stride.

Armand moved ahead and pushed open a set of reinforced double doors.

The main hall beyond was already occupied.

Napoleon I stood near a large campaign table laid out with maps and documents. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture straight, gaze fixed on a marked section of parchment. Even at rest, there was a sense of motion about him, like a commander between battles.

Beside him stood the Minister of Defense, Berthier. A stack of folders rested under his arm. He was speaking in a low voice when the doors opened.

Both men looked up.

Napoleon I’s expression shifted first. Recognition, then approval.

"So," he said, voice carrying easily across the hall. "You made it."

Napoleon II approached at a steady pace. Charles remained a step behind, silent.

"Father," Napoleon II greeted. "Minister."

Berthier bowed cleanly. "Your Imperial Majesty."

Napoleon I stepped away from the table and closed the distance between them. His eyes briefly scanned his son’s uniform, an old habit, checking details without comment.

"You’re late," Napoleon I said.

"Traffic," Napoleon II replied evenly.

A corner of Napoleon I’s mouth twitched.

"So have you seen the new uniforms of the army and their equipment?" Napoleon II asked.

"I haven’t yet, I was waiting for you," Napoleon I replied.

"Very well, let’s see it together shall we?" Napoleon II said.

Napoleon I gave a short nod. Berthier gathered his folders under one arm, and the four men moved for the exit leading to the outer grounds.

The corridor opened into daylight.

The courtyard beyond had been cleared into a wide inspection lane.

They stepped out onto the terrace.

Rows of soldiers stood assembled across the parade ground. Every man stood square, boots aligned, shoulders level. Their rifles were held vertical against the chest, hands fixed in identical position.

Napoleon I stopped walking.

His eyes swept the formation slowly.

The uniforms were the first thing that caught attention.

Gone were the bright colors and ornamental trim of earlier decades. These men wore practical field gray coats cut close to the body. Clean lines, reinforced seams, and high collars. Trousers tucked into sturdy boots.

Webbing crossed their chests in functional straps where ammunition and equipment sat. For Napoleon II, it felt like he was looking at a modern army.

"What is your first impression, Father?" Napoleon II asked.

"Well..." Napoleon I stepped down from the terrace without finishing the sentence.

The gravel crunched under his boots as he approached the first rank. The soldiers did not move. Their eyes remained forward and chins leveled.

He stopped in front of a young infantryman and looked him over from head to toe.

"I’d say they are good. Everything is functional and has purpose," Napoleon I commented. "So this is going to be the look of the Army huh?"

Napoleon II nodded. "It’s going to be the army that will dominate the world, Father."

"When will I see them in action?" Napoleon I asked.

"For that father, I want to speak with you in private if that would be okay for you," Napoleon II said.

Napoleon I held his son’s gaze for a moment, reading the tone more than the words.

"Very well," he said. "Berthier, hold the formation here."

Berthier snapped to attention. "Yes, sire."

The soldiers remained frozen in formation as the two Emperors crossed the courtyard.

Boots struck stone as they reentered the corridor. The heavy doors shut behind them, muting the open air and leaving only the echo of their footsteps. The temperature dropped slightly inside the thick walls.

Napoleon I spoke without looking over.

"This sounds serious," he said.

"It is," Napoleon II replied. "And I don’t want half the garrison overhearing it."

They passed two guards posted at an intersection. Both snapped to attention. Napoleon I lifted a hand slightly, permission to relax, without breaking stride.

At the end of the corridor stood a reinforced wooden door banded in iron. An Imperial Guard stepped aside immediately and opened it.

Inside was a private planning room.

There was a long oak table scarred by years of use, a wall-mounted map rack, and a narrow window letting in controlled light. Lamps were already turned on and an electric fan to the side for cooling.

They stepped inside and the doors were closed behind them.

Napoleon I looked at his son. "All right," he said. "We’re private. Speak.

"Father, I think we are on the verge of war with Algiers," Napoleon II said.

Napoleon I’s brow tightened slightly. "War?" he repeated. "Why?"

Napoleon II stepped to the table and unrolled a folded chart of the Mediterranean. Shipping lanes had been marked in ink, several routes circled in red.

"Yesterday," he said, tapping a point west of Sicily, "Barbary corsairs intercepted two French merchant vessels. They boarded, seized cargo, and executed the crews. No survivors confirmed."

Napoleon I’s jaw set.

"Executed?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Napoleon II replied. "An escort brig arrived too late. They found one hull burning and the other under tow. Our citizens died in chains or at the blade."

Silence filled the room for a second.

Napoleon I leaned over the map, eyes narrowing at the marked corridor. "And this is confirmed?"

"From the captain’s report and southern dispatches," Napoleon II said. "The newspapers already carry the story. Public anger is rising."

Napoleon I exhaled through his nose. "Piracy," he said. "Still poisoning the Mediterranean."

"They’re not isolated raiders," Napoleon II continued. "They operate under protection of the Regency. Tribute has kept them tolerated. But this," he tapped the map again "crosses into open hostility."

Napoleon I straightened. "What have you done so far?"

"I’ve drafted an ultimatum," Napoleon II said. "Demanding cessation, release of detained vessels, and recognition of French passage rights. But I don’t expect compliance."

"No," Napoleon I said flatly. "You won’t get it."

Napoleon II met his father’s eyes. "That’s why I want your counsel. You’ve fought and campaigned beyond Europe."

Napoleon I’s gaze drifted back to the map, but he wasn’t just seeing ink anymore.

"You’re thinking amphibious landing," he said.

"Yes," Napoleon II replied. "Strike the corsair infrastructure at its source. Ports. Dockyards. Command centers. Neutralize their ability to raid."

Napoleon I rested both hands on the table.

"Egypt taught me something," he said. "An overseas campaign is won before the first shot. You control the sea, you control the pace. Without naval superiority, you bleed supplies faster than you bleed men."

"We’ll deploy the fleet ahead of the landing," Napoleon II said. "Blockade first. Secure approach lanes. Then land in force."

Napoleon I nodded once. "Good. And the landing site?"

Napoleon II pointed to a stretch of coastline east of Algiers.

"Here," he said. "Natural anchorage. Enough room to stage artillery. From there, we push inland."

Napoleon I traced the route with a finger. "Expect resistance near the shore," he said. "They’ll try to disrupt the landing before you establish a foothold. You must land heavy guns early. Shock them fast."

"That’s the plan," Napoleon II replied. "Rapid deployment. Machine guns to secure the perimeter. Field artillery to suppress counterattack."

Napoleon I looked up.

"You’re not just punishing pirates," he said. "You’re establishing presence."

Napoleon II didn’t deny it. "If we’re committing, we commit fully. No half measures."

A slow breath left Napoleon I.

"Then treat it like Egypt," he said. "Speed, discipline, and overwhelming force. Don’t give them time to regroup. Break their command structure early. Once the ports fall, the corsair fleets die with them."

Napoleon II nodded. "Will do it."