Reincarnated as Napoleon II-Chapter 42: The Marvels and Her Return

A day later, in the Gare de Strasbourg, Napoleon II’s carriage was parked outside the station. Inside, he watched through the window as the steam locomotive rolled in, pistons pumping, steam venting in short, controlled bursts.

In the past decade, Napoleon II had focused on transportation. Particularly, rails.

France had learned the hard way what fragmented systems did to empires. Different gauges. Different couplings. Different standards. Every transfer slowed movement. Every incompatibility became friction.

So he chose one gauge and forced everything to follow it.

Standard gauge. One width. One rule.

Rails laid in the east matched those in the west. Rolling stock built in Lyon could run to Strasbourg without modification. Troops, coal, steel—nothing stopped to be reloaded anymore.

The locomotive eased to a halt.

It was a 4-6-0 Ten-Wheeler, modeled after the most efficient designs of the century. Large driving wheels for speed. Six coupled axles for traction. A wide firebox. High-pressure boiler. No ornament. Built to pull weight, day after day.

The engineer cracked a valve. Steam hissed. The machine settled.

Napoleon II noted the details automatically.

Steel boiler bands. Reinforced frame. Improved draft through the smokebox. Fuel efficiency nearly double the early engines of the 1810s.

Most important, the brakes.

Westinghouse air brakes. But they don’t call it Westinghouse, it was simply called air brakes.

Compressed air reservoirs under each carriage. One valve, and the entire train responded at once. No delayed braking. No snapped couplings. No runaway cars on inclines.

Before that system, trains were accidents waiting to happen.

Now they stopped when commanded.

Above the platform, signal arms shifted.

Semaphore signals, tied to telegraph lines. Block signaling. One train per section. If a line ahead was occupied, the signal stayed closed. No guesswork. No collisions at speed.

Information moved faster than steam now.

Napoleon II watched passengers disembark. Merchants. Officers. Workers. Cargo being unloaded from the baggage car. He was waiting for a particular someone to disembark from the train as he couldn’t be seen in public.

Why?

That’s because he learned from experience, that when he was seen in public, people would immediately surround and frolic around him and it was a hassle. Not that he hated it, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the daily lives of his people. After all, seeing a Crown Prince is like seeing an A-lister Hollywood artist.

Then he saw her, Princess Elisabeth, along with her parents and their attendants.

Napoleon II had specifically instructed his Imperial Guards to escort her to his carriage and their family to their respective carriages. And they did just that, Princess Elisabeth was as charming and beautiful as ever. She arrived at the carriage and the Imperial Guard opened the door for her to enter.

She entered and took her seat.

"Elisabeth..."

Napoleon II didn’t hesitate.

He lifted her gloved hand properly this time and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

Elisabeth didn’t pull away.

The carriage rocked slightly as it left the station, metal wheels settling into rhythm. Steam slid past the windows in long white streaks.

"How was your journey?" Napoleon II asked.

"It was great and so convenient," Elisabeth replied with a dreamy tone. "It took only 36 hours to get from Bavaria to Paris and for the remainder of the trip, I was just looking out of the windows to see the beauty of nature. Also, it was like a small palace in the carriage. It has a bedroom and a bathroom and it has restaurants...I am so fascinated by it."

"Well, that’s the beauty of steam locomotive transport. Do you know, before the advent of steam, it usually took a week to get from Bavaria to Paris."

"And thanks to it, the world is getting closer and closer," Princess Elisabeth said.

"You are right, that’s the intention. In another decade, Europe will be interconnected with rails."

"And I believe you are earning a lot from it," Princess Elisabeth said.

"From royalties, yes."

Elisabeth looked out of the window and noticed something.

"Are we heading back to Versailles because I think we are going in a wrong way."

Napoleon II shook his head. "No, we are heading on the right way. Your parents will and attendants will be heading towards Versailles. As for us, I want a moment of time with you. I want to show you something."

They reached the Place de l’Étoile.

Traffic slowed into a controlled crawl. Carriages circled the rotunda in wide arcs, drivers keeping distance, guards maintaining lanes. At the center, the Arc de Triomphe dominated everything around it—stone mass, sharp edges, clean symmetry.

Elisabeth leaned forward.

She didn’t speak at first.

The carriage passed beneath the arch. The sound changed immediately. Hooves and wheels echoed against stone. For a brief moment, the world narrowed to shadow and reverberation.

Her eyes followed the carved reliefs overhead as they emerged on the other side.

"It’s..." she began, then stopped.

Napoleon II watched her reaction without interrupting.

The carriage rolled to a halt just beyond the arc.

An Imperial Guard opened the door.

Napoleon II stepped down first, boots touching stone, then turned back and offered his hand.

Elisabeth took it without hesitation.

He steadied her as she descended, his grip firm and practiced. Once she was on the ground, she straightened and looked up again.

Up close, the Arc was larger than it appeared from a distance. The carvings were deep. Soldiers frozen in motion. Names etched into stone. Victories listed without decoration.

"This was built for the army," Napoleon II said, not raising his voice. "Not for romance."

Elisabeth glanced at him, then back at the monument.

"For victory," she said.

"For control," he corrected. "Come."

They crossed toward the stair entrance built into the pillar. Guards followed at a distance.

The climb was steady. Stone steps worn smooth by boots. Narrow windows cut into the wall let in slanted afternoon light. The sound of the city faded with each turn.

When they emerged at the top, Paris opened beneath them.

Boulevards stretched outward like spokes. Long. Straight. Wide. Buildings aligned in clean rows, matching height and spacing.

Elisabeth stepped closer to the edge.

"The city looks... ordered," she said.

"It is," Napoleon II replied. "By design."

He gestured outward.

"Those boulevards aren’t for beauty," he said. "They’re firing lanes."

She turned to him.

"In case of invasion," he continued. "Or rebellion. Artillery can be moved here, turned, and aimed straight down any approach. No tight corners. No blind streets. You see the enemy before they reach you."

She looked again, this time slower.

"And the symmetry?" she asked.

"Rangefinding," he said. "Distance is easier to judge when everything is aligned. Buildings the same height. Streets the same width. It simplifies command."

Elisabeth exhaled once.

"You built a city like a battlefield."

"Yes," he said. "So it never has to become one again."

The sun was dropping now. Light slid across rooftops, turning stone pale gold. Shadows stretched along the boulevards, long and clean.

"But people don’t see that," she said.

"No," Napoleon II agreed. "They see grandeur. Triumph. A place to walk. To look. To remember."

He glanced at her.

"That’s fine too."

She rested her hands on the stone railing.

"It will be a tourist attraction one day," she said. "People won’t think about guns at all."

"Yes, it will be. And I plan not to have another revolution or an army invading Paris. I won’t let it happen during my time as an Emperor of France."

He added. "In the future, France will have more iconic spots like this one, and I want us to be visit it together."

Elisabeth blushed. "Yes, it would be my honor and pleasure. Thank you for showing me this beautiful view of Paris."

"No problem."