Chapter 178: Corsica (1)
Chapter 178: Corsica (1)
“Hmm.”
“Is something wrong, Your Excellency? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
“It’s nothing. Let’s keep going.”
I folded the letter I had finished reading and shoved it into my trouser pocket as I spoke to the coachman.
On the road from Paris to the Port of Toulon, the letter I received from Napoleon was about 5,700 characters long—roughly the length of a short novel—and extremely malicious and aggressive… No, let’s put it plainly.
[If I see you, I’ll kill you.]
Receiving a death threat from Napoleon Bonaparte, the unparalleled hero of the age—what a successful life this must be. And just as expected from an aspiring writer, his insults were impressively varied.
My life really is spectacular.
Fine. I’ll preserve this letter carefully and attach it as a historical document later when I write something resembling an autobiography. People love this kind of behind-the-scenes story.
Right. First I’ll sell the original edition once. Then I’ll add it to a revised edition and talk about it a little in the press. People will be so curious they won’t be able to resist buying it.
Ladies and gentlemen of the world! A rare chance to witness the vulgar wit of the great hero Napoleon! Cheap, cheap! Only ten livres—
“Thank you, Your Excellency.”
“Pardon?”
I had been drifting through absurd thoughts in a stream-of-consciousness style when the sudden voice from beside me startled me enough to twitch.
“My men and I are simply grateful to Your Excellency and the French government for giving us the chance to avenge our homeland Poland and our families.”
“Ah… yes.”
“We will not disappoint your expectations, Your Excellency.”
The man beside me clenched his fist with blazing determination in his eyes. He looked to be in his early thirties.
His name was… Józef Antoni Poniatowski, I think.
As if it were not enough that his homeland Poland had been split into pieces by Prussia, the Holy Roman Empire, and Russia, he was now being dragged into someone else’s war.
His life truly was unfortunate.
But even if I pitied him and the other Poles, what could I do about it?
I could not take land back and return it to them.
All I could do was wish them luck.
“I hope you and the Polish soldiers… return safely without injury.”
“Thank you for your words, Your Excellency. But do you know the motto of us Poles?”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“God, Honor, and Fatherland.”
The Polish exile officer continued with a resolute expression.
“My soldiers and I may not know God, but we failed to protect our homeland. Because we failed to protect our homeland, we live with dishonor as soldiers.
Until we reclaim our homeland and restore our honor, we cannot spare our lives.”
Like the independence fighters in history books who stood unflinching before guns and swords, Poniatowski spoke with unwavering resolve.
I simply nodded silently.
By the time our conversation ended—
“Your Excellency, we have arrived at Toulon.”
The carriage came to a stop.
“Welcome, Your Excellency. I have been waiting all day.”
“Ha ha. It’s been a while, Brigadier General Bonaparte. Seeing you again brings back old memories.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“Hahaha!”
Oh dear. Why are you grinding your teeth like that? Keep it up and you’ll end up needing dentures. That American president, George Washington, suffered terribly because of dentures.
This won’t do. As a good friend, I should find a reputable dentist in Paris for Napoleon. After all, loving one’s comrades is loving one’s country.
“Hahaha. Judging by how you’re talking, Minister, life must be quite comfortable for you? Some of us are working ourselves to the bone.”
“Hahaha. If you’d like, I could arrange a position for Brigadier General Bonaparte in the Ministry of Finance.”
“Grr…!”
Napoleon ground his teeth again and sighed deeply.
“So… did you bring what I requested from the central command?”
“Of course. Lieutenant Colonel Poniatowski?”
“Pleasure to meet you, General Bonaparte.”
When I called his name, Poniatowski stepped forward from behind me and extended his hand.
“I am Lieutenant Colonel Józef Antoni Poniatowski, commander of the Polish Volunteer Corps.”
“…A Pole?”
“Yes, General.”
“…Your Excellency, may we speak privately for a moment?”
After shaking Poniatowski’s hand, Napoleon glared at me as though he wanted to kill me and urged that we speak alone.
Hmm. Judging by that expression, if I refused, he might start a coup.
I had no desire to witness a future where Napoleon marched into Paris shouting, “Guillaume! I, Napoleon, have returned! This time I will destroy you!”
So I nodded readily, and Napoleon dragged me into a secluded room at headquarters.
After confirming no one was nearby and shutting the door, Napoleon threw his general’s hat onto the floor and shouted at me in fury.
“Have you lost your mind?! Are you trying to start something with me?!”
“You asked for cavalry, so I brought cavalry.”
“What cavalry?! Those men are the same defeated soldiers who got crushed by Russia! What do you expect me to do with troops already beaten by the Russians?! Are we supposed to let Russia crush them again here in France?!”
The veins bulged in Napoleon’s neck.
“Did I ask for anything unreasonable? At the very least you could’ve sent the dragoons under Grouchy!”
Well, I would have preferred to give him elite troops too. I would love to see Napoleon Bonaparte rampaging across the battlefield with them.
But—
“Napoleon, that could make the citizens uneasy.”
“Wow. Spend a little time in Versailles and suddenly you’ve become a full-fledged politician.”
“Don’t act like an amateur!”
“Amateur my ass!”
“You’re Napoleon! The undefeated hero!”
Why is this SSR-rank golden hero card complaining so much? Honestly, how many military geniuses in human history could stand beside Napoleon—Alexander the Great? Admiral Yi Sun-sin? Anyone else?
But Napoleon merely frowned at my words.
“I’ve only won one battle so far! What undefeated hero nonsense are you talking about!”
“Oh. Right.”
He didn’t know yet how history would remember him.
“Guillaume… are you feeling alright?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your head. Your head seems a little strange.”
Napoleon looked at me as though I were a lunatic.
Damn it. I couldn’t exactly say, “Actually I’m from the future and you’re in the history books.”
Frustrated, I lit a cigarette.
“I just mean I rate you very highly. Not literally undefeated.”
“Well… if that’s what you meant, that’s fine. But regardless, if your order is for me to fight the Russian army with those Polish remnants, I refuse.”
“Napoleon, I’m genuinely curious. Why?”
“That’s simple.”
Napoleon picked up the hat he had thrown earlier.
“These soldiers here are my blood and sweat. I trained them myself. I cannot entrust their flanks to defeated troops I can’t even trust.”
“I see.”
“Think about it. Most of them don’t even speak our language. How can we conduct coordinated operations? It wouldn’t be good for them or for us.”
More importantly—
“What worries me is their fighting spirit. Even strong armies have collapsed and fled when morale breaks.
If they’re already defeated troops, the outcome is obvious. Don’t you think?”
“…I can’t deny that.”
His reasoning was not driven by dirty politics but by the straightforward thinking of a commander determined to protect his soldiers and win battles.
I could only nod.
But someone listening to our conversation apparently disagreed.
“General Bonaparte.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Poniatowski?”
“I apologize. I did not intend to overhear the conversation between Your Excellency and the General.”
“…How much did you hear?”
“…From the middle onward. My apologies again.”
Poniatowski removed his hat, bowed, and spoke.
“If it does not offend either of you, may I say something?”
Since we had already been caught speaking behind his back, it would be petty to refuse.
Napoleon and I nodded.
“Thank you. As a commander myself, I must admit General Bonaparte’s reasoning is correct. The Polish Volunteer Corps are indeed defeated soldiers who failed to protect our capital Warsaw from the enemy’s boots. I will not deny it. No excuse can change the fact that we failed to prevent our homeland from disappearing.”
Poniatowski turned to Napoleon.
“General Bonaparte, I understand that several years ago you defeated a rebel force. Is that correct?”
“That is correct.”
“You commanded only four thousand regular troops and eight thousand militia, yet you defeated ten thousand elite rebel soldiers. What do you believe was the key to that victory?”
“…Because the soldiers knew what they were fighting for.”
Poniatowski bowed slightly and continued.
“Even though our homeland has vanished, my soldiers and I have not let go of it.
After invading Poland, the Russian army committed countless crimes—massacres, arson, and more.
Among the men under my command, not a single Pole saw the streets of Warsaw soaked with our people’s blood without shedding tears.”
General Bonaparte, we know what we are fighting for.
After saying that, Poniatowski saluted and left the room.
Napoleon stared silently at the door for a long time before sighing.
“…I don’t know.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Damn it… Fine! I’ll do it! Is that enough?!”
I thought I heard him muttering something about the misfortune of having me as a friend.
But surely Napoleon wouldn’t say something like that… right?
“I am Colonel Horatio Nelson, commander of the Mediterranean Detached Squadron.”
“Pleasure to meet you. Guillaume de Toulon. The prime minister speaks highly of you.”
“T-the prime minister said that?!”
“Admiral John Jervis also mentioned your name.”
“Haha! Well then! Ahem!”
Look at this man—his face is lighting up.
From my experience in the army, anyone obsessed with promotions and recognition from superiors is rarely a normal person.
“I must admit I am concerned.”
“Concerned about what?”
“That you and your crew might feel uncomfortable flying the French flag, even temporarily.”
Colonel Nelson grinned.
“Do not worry, Your Excellency! I, Nelson, guarantee the operation will be carried out flawlessly!”
“…Very well. I will trust you.”
Hey, Pitt.
Are you sure this man is trustworthy?