Chapter 31: Napoleon

Sam

October 30, 1786, Realm Timeline, Pressburg/Bratislava, The Slovakian Protectorate

The notebook in front of him had many entries with question marks.

First came the main question. The Kingling and the Protectorates had an agreement since the second Austrian-Outworlder war. Thus, the first line read:

'Why did the Kingling break the agreement?'

The second entry was about what was missing:

'Why was there no Polish army going for Zilina?'

The third addressed an absence:

'Why did the Tatars attack Trnava if there was no Polish army?'

And the last was about another absence, one as much worrying:

'Where are the reinforcements Joseph promised?'

They could have used the Hungarian troops to chase after the Tatars; a lot had crossed back the Danube on improvised embarcations or whatever boats they could steal. Sam had not closed an eye for all night. Immediately after Eliza called, telling him they were safe and all Tatars in Trnava dead, he went to bed.

Sleep wasn't meant to be. The phone rang as soon as Sam's head hit the pillow. A video call from an unknown number. He answered automatically, his mind moving more on autopilot than on logic.

The screen showed a young man with short hair and a round face, sitting in an armchair in front of a desk, a book in hand, in a dark room. A faint ray of light was breaking through an opening barely an inch in the long and heavy curtain behind, tracing a white line on the man's cheek. The image was wide and taken slightly from above, a sign that the phone was mounted on a small tripod.

"Hello," the man said, putting the book on the desk. "Samuel, I presume?"

"How do you have my number?" Sam mumbled.

"A common friend gave it to me. He wishes to remain anonymous."

"And you are?"

"Napoleon Bonaparte, Head Marechal of His Excellency Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, First Consul of the French Republic."

"Oh, shit!" Sam exclaimed, jumping out of the bed and hitting the nightstand in the process.

"Take it easy, it’s no big deal," Napoleon said. The youngster's use of Outworlder slang was fluent and natural, and he was speaking English with an American accent. A modern one.

"What do you want?" Sam sneered, massaging his toes. "To gloat?"

"To apologize. Things got out of control."

"You're behind the raid?" Sam sneered, thinking of the dead and the burned neighborhoods.

"No, Samuel. Neither the Klingling nor I have anything to do with it."

"You're joking."

"I am not. Do you want to hear what really happened?"

"I have what happened in front of my eyes," Sam said, looking through the window at a row of smoldering ruins, which were pretty close to the Guild Hall.

"You know what I mean. Ask yourself: would I call you if the matter was not serious?"

Probably not… Sam thought. By that, Napoleon was revealing that he had a phone and that people inside the Protectorates did too. It was an offering, an opening, and probably an outliner from things to come.

"I'm listening."

"Please excuse the ab ovo. The first job Lafayette handed me was to help Transylvania. Our interest was mutual: weaken Austria. The Protectorates were doing the same thing, so I was not to touch them. Truly, I learned as much from the Kingling as he learned from me. It was an enlightening experience. He's very smart. Anyway, I left two years ago, when things were on track, leaving behind a plan, and keeping in touch. Do you know the problem with plans?"

"I could think of a ton of problems. What are you talking about?"

"The people you trust to implement them. Lafayette and I understood it, and recruited the best people we could. The Kingling, on the other hand… not so much…" the young man grimaced. "You see, that would have meant recruiting officers from the same people he was fighting against, or mercenaries. Not impossible, but hard. So, he relied a lot, and I mean, a lot, on those you call Renegades. There are thousands of them in Transylvania."

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"Really?"

"Really. There are many more of you in the Realm than you think. Also, the Kingling allied with Turkey and the Tatars, because the latter are on the last legs and they think: If we help him here, he will help us against Russia. Ergo, he had many Tatar and Outworlder officers. And to cut to the chase, they betrayed his trust.

"The raid was not supposed to happen. The Tatars were meant to be transported by steam barges past Gyor, using obscuration devices, pick up half the troops besieging it, land further west, and push for Vienna."

"You want me to believe Vienna was the target?"

"It is the truth. It will become clear soon enough, anyway. Those Renegade officers I was talking about decided to change plans, and diverted half the Tatars toward you. They thought Vienna would fall anyway, and that if they took Bratislava, they could break Slovakia from the Protectorates. If the Renegades had succeeded, the Kingling would have been compelled to accept it as a fait accompli. There are many Vlachs in what you call Slovakia. Not a bad plan, but it has a big fault."

"Which is?"

"It failed. "

"Why did you… they attack Trnava? It made us believe there was an incoming Polish attack."

"Exactly. Do you know what your most important asset is?"

"I'm not in the mood for patronizing. Speak directly."

"Your heavy air force, the choppers. There are thirty or so."

"A hundred," Sam doubled the number.

"Okay, so you have fifty. "

Shit, I forgot it's Napoleon I'm dealing with.

"Did you deploy them?"

"Yes. Some."

"There was a unit of German sharpshooters sent to deal with them. Enchanted bullets, extra penetration. After taking out your choppers, the Renegades intended to send hot-air blimps and bomb you into surrender."

"They have blimps?"

'We all have. They are not so hard to build. However, the guide sent to meet the sharpshooters never arrived, their captain got killed, and they retreated. They were the first to cross the Danube into contested territory and report to their regiment, next to Gyor. Then the regiment's colonel called the Kingling, and that is how he found out that things had gone haywire. Sincerely, you got lucky."

"I know," Sam said sincerely, thinking about Tristan's scouting and the ensuing chain of events.

"Allow me to address my plan about taking Vienna. Only a third of the intended force made the junction, and they encountered a… I don't know how to call it, because it was smaller than a division, yet bigger than a regiment."

"The Hungarian volunteers corps."

"Former corps. Very few survived."

"So they lost?"

"Actually, they did not. They saw the others first, and attacked, inflicting huge casualties. The Kingling's army retreated; the element of surprise was gone. However, most of the Hungarian nobility died in that battle, though, and it's a pity."

"I… don't know what to say," Sam sighed. Good riddance, assholes?

"I know what you are thinking. That it's their fault in the first place, treating their slaves so badly, thinking their rights are the most important thing in the world, opposing reforms, and so on. It is true, but do not forget that they descend from heroes who stopped the Mongols or the Turks from conquering Europe. I include the Poles here as well. With a bit of patience and persuasion, their energy would become useful, and the next generation could be a light in the dark again. Sorry, I am a big sentimental in this matter. Maybe because my origins are humble.

"Anyway… The Kingling will contact the Council very soon. He does not know I called, and please do not tell him. This is between us. I'm begging you, convince the Council not to go to war with Transylvania. The Kingling is arresting and executing the plotters as we speak. He is also willing to offer you compensation."

"They have no economy to speak of."

"C'mon! They have gold mines, Sam, minerals, oil, and now enough tech to pull them out of the ground. Listen to me: if you insist just the right amount, he will also extradite every agitator in his lands. Many Outworlders have nasty ideas about… ideology," Napoleon whispered the last words.

"Do they only talk, or—"

"Some talk, some act, but even talking is dangerous. If I were you, I would make sure the talkers don't talk anymore, one way or another, and use the rest. They are top craftsmen, I understand. That's why he's reluctant to extradite them."

"By top craftsmen, you mean engineers?"

"Yes, I mean exactly that. I beg you, Samuel, do not play cute with me for the sake of being smart. We are having this conversation because our common friend thinks highly of you. I have yet to see your brilliance, but I am willing to give you a shot."

That sealed the deal. Sam was filled with anger, making him blurt out a long line, in one breath:

"Give me a shot? After two wars my tech won? You're just an unlaid punk from a backwater island, with an inferiority complex. You're calling me because you failed to take Vienna, and you're afraid we'll kick your frog-eating ass in retribution."

"Touche," Napoleon bowed his head. "Your mighty sarcasm makes me wish to crawl under my bed and suck my thumb. I am so scared that I am willing to offer you Austria. You can have it."

"What?"

"There will be a Confederation of the Rhine very soon. I will instruct them to sign an alliance with you. Austria, also, because they will have no other choice, and thus, it will fall under your influence. Build a railway to them, spread your culture, invade, whatever. It is yours! Happy now?"

"You think you can buy me with empty promises? Thousands died in your attack on Pressburg," Sam snapped.

"You mean the Renegade attack. Your people were behind it."

"Your plan, on which they build."

"Touche encore. If only your strategic abilities would match your sarcasm."

"Pardon me my French, but the raid will have consequences," Sam said coldly, hair raising on his nape and arms. "There will be payback, this, I promise."

Napoleon sighed. "I do not like wasting time, so here is the deal. You can get Austria. Everything east of Gyor goes to the Kingling. Whatever is left of the Imperial possessions in Galicia, Lodomeria, and Bukovina goes to Moldova, the Tatars, and the Kingling. He will make sure the Turks stay put, not that they can do much; they're a mess. Now, a free hint, which is also a test. There is a bunch of Austrian plotters who want to kill Joseph—"

"That's the hint? I know it already."

"The hint is you have all the information needed to find who they are. Use your little gray cells to discover them. Think chess, mon ami."

The young man picked up the book from the desk and showed Sam the title: 'Poirot Investigates'.

Agatha Christie? The fuck?

"'Tis time to take my leave. I have to sulk and brood over my failed plan to take Vienna."

Leaving his chair, Napoleon went to the windows and pulled the curtains with an evidently rehearsed theatrical gesture. The view displayed a large river, with a town alongside. A gray sky was letting a fine drizzle fall. Countless steamships with the American and French flags were anchored near the shores. Blimps floated lazily in the sky, by the dozens.

"It is true what they say, you know," Napoleon said. "British weather is awful. Toodaloo."