Reincarnated as Napoleon II-Chapter 81: Council of State

The doors to the Council Room opened.

Napoleon II entered first.

The room was long and rectangular. A heavy table dominated the center, polished dark wood marked faintly by age and use. Tall windows ran along one side, curtains drawn back to let the morning light spill across papers already laid out in neat stacks. Chairs lined both sides of the table—fifteen of them occupied.

All conversation stopped.

Chairs shifted. Boots scraped lightly against the floor. Fifteen men rose as one.

Napoleon II stopped at the head of the table. Charles took position to his right, a half-step back. Armand stood to the left, arms resting loosely at his sides, eyes already moving, cataloging faces.

"At ease," Napoleon II said.

The ministers sat.

No one spoke until Napoleon II nodded once.

"Let’s begin," he said. "You’ll introduce yourselves."

He looked to the first man on his right.

The man stood.

He was broad-shouldered, hair already thinning despite his middle years.

"Claude Morel," he said. "Interior."

He sat.

Next to him, another rose. Taller. Sharper features. A thin scar cut along his jawline.

"Henri Valois," he said. "Finance." 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

He returned to his seat without hesitation.

A man with ink-stained fingers stood next, adjusting his cuffs before speaking.

"Jules Fournier," he said. "Infrastructure and Communications."

He sat.

Beside him, a younger man rose.

"Lucien Barrot," he said. "Transportation."

A heavier-set man followed.

"Étienne Lacroix," he said. "Commerce."

He nodded once toward Napoleon II before sitting.

Next came a man with wire-rim glasses and neatly combed hair.

"Alain Deschamps," he said. "Education."

He folded his hands on the table as he sat.

The next minister stood more slowly.

"Victor Lemaitre," he said. "Science and Technology."

He glanced briefly at the documents before him, then sat.

A man with weathered skin and thick hands rose next.

"Pierre Montagne," he said. "Environment and Natural Resources."

He sat back heavily.

Beside him, a slimmer figure stood, mustache trimmed with care.

"Marcel Giroux," he said. "Energy."

The man next to him stood with a soldier’s motion.

"Louis-Alexandre Berthier," he said. "Defense."

A softer voice followed.

"Étienne Marchand," the man said. "Public Health."

Next came a man with sharp cheekbones and restless eyes.

"François Delorme," he said. "Housing and Urban Development."

He sat, already shifting papers into alignment.

The next minister stood with practiced ease, chin raised slightly.

"Charles de Rémusat," he said. "Foreign Affairs."

His gaze lingered on Napoleon II a fraction longer than the others before he sat.

A broad-backed man with farmer’s hands rose next.

"Louis Garnier," he said. "Agriculture."

He nodded once and returned to his seat.

The final man stood.

Older. Hair silvered at the temples. His suit was immaculate, but worn in the way of long service.

"Henri Duval," he said. "Colonial Affairs."

He sat last.

Silence followed.

Napoleon II let it sit.

He didn’t speak right away. He looked down the length of the table, one face at a time. Some met his gaze. Some didn’t. Charles watched quietly, committing names to memory. Armand leaned back slightly, already weighing posture against reputation.

Napoleon II rested both hands on the table.

"Good," he said. "Now we know who’s responsible when things go wrong."

A few of them smiled. Most didn’t.

"This is our first time meeting, though some of you I already met. You were nominated to the role and you accepted it. I am glad that no one rejected the offer. You gentlemen will be my eyes and ears and my hands," Napoleon II continued. "You will see things before I do. You will hear problems long before they reach this room. When that happens, I expect you to act, not wait to be told."

He straightened, palms still resting on the table.

"This council is not decorative. I did not assemble you to preserve habits, titles, or comfort. I assembled you to govern an empire that is moving faster than its own institutions."

No one interrupted.

"You will disagree with me," he went on. "Some of you already will. That’s acceptable. What isn’t acceptable is silence when something is wrong, or delay when something needs to be done."

He shifted his gaze to the far end of the table.

"If you fail," he said evenly, "I won’t shout. I won’t humiliate you in public. I will replace you. Quickly."

"This is Charles-Louis Napoléon Bonaparte," he said. "My cousin. He will be serving as my royal secretary."

A few heads turned. Several eyes lingered longer than courtesy required.

"He will handle my correspondence, schedules, and reports," Napoleon II continued. "If something reaches my desk, he has already seen it. If something doesn’t, that is also on him."

Charles inclined his head once, saying nothing.

"And this," Napoleon II added, glancing to his left, "is Armand. Some of you already know him. If you don’t, you will."

Armand gave a short nod.

Napoleon II drew a breath.

"Well since this is like our first day of meeting, there’s not much to do but to meet. I will dismiss you early so that you can study the post that you have been given. Anyone who might have a question, please raise a hand and I’ll answer."

A moment passed.

Then a hand rose.

It was Henri Valois.

"Your Imperial Majesty," he said, waiting until Napoleon II gave a small nod. "How often will this council convene going forward?"

Napoleon II didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back slightly, considering the room as a whole rather than the man who had asked.

"Starting next year," he said, "this council will meet twice a month."

Several ministers made quiet notes. Others simply listened.

"For the remainder of December," Napoleon II continued, "I will not be calling full sessions. If you have reports that are urgent, significant, or time-sensitive, you will see me individually. If not, you will continue working."

His gaze swept the table.

"We reconvene as a body in January."

No one objected. And no one asked a follow-up.

Napoleon II nodded once. "Good."

He pushed his chair back and stood. Charles and Armand moved with him, rising in sync.

"You’re dismissed," Napoleon II said. "Study your posts. I expect substance when we meet again."

Chairs shifted again. The ministers stood, one by one, offering brief bows before gathering their papers and filing toward the doors in orderly silence.

As the room began to clear, Napoleon II’s voice cut through it.

"Berthier."

Louis-Alexandre Berthier stopped mid-step and turned back.

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?"

"Stay," Napoleon II said. "I have something to discuss with you."

Berthier nodded once. "Of course."

The doors closed behind the last departing minister.