Chapter 192: Members of the Grand Army (5)
Chapter 192: Members of the Grand Army (5)
There was a legendary Pokémon who came from the mountainous backwaters of Corsica and now proudly wore a star while commanding twenty thousand Frenchmen as his underlings.
And there was another legendary Pokémon—one that lived in Versailles and Paris, devouring endless stacks of documents.
…No. Since I’m a human, let’s call that one the leader of the French.
When the legendary Pokémon and the leader of the French personally appeared before the Corsicans and swore that their rights would be respected, the news swept across the island in an instant.
Of course, in a world without radio or television, if you wanted dramatic effect you had to repeat the show everywhere you went.
“Long live Corsica! Long live France! Long live the Liberation Army!”
“Haha, thank you. Merci beaucoup.”
Starting in Vecchio, then traveling through Bastia, Bonifacio, and finally Ajaccio—the hometown of the legendary Pokémon—we repeated the performance again and again. In the end, each of us received bouquets from the grateful crowds.
“Long live Young Master Buonaparte! Long live! Long live!”
Hmm. Someone seems to be receiving something even greater than bouquets.
“The legitimate heir and lord of Corsica, a general of France, and head of the illustrious Bonaparte family—Napoleon Bonaparte.”
“And why do you say that, Your Excellency Guillaume de Toulon, Finance Minister of Great France, possessor of tremendous wealth, and future head of the portmaster family that commands Toulon?”
“Do you hear that sound?”
“What sound?”
“Bonaparte! Bonaparte! It’s loud enough to burst my ears.”
“They’re just ordinary cheers.”
“Really? To me it sounds like someone could retire from the army and still serve as a member of parliament until the day he dies.”
“That would be quite a fortunate person.”
Honestly. Acting innocent when you know exactly what I mean.
“By the way.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t think you have two lives, do you?”
“I wish that were true, but sadly I only have one. However, unlike beasts, humans can accomplish many things with a single life.”
“And if you die doing it?”
“I haven’t lived a life with enough leisure to worry about what happens after.”
“This is driving me insane.”
No matter how you look at it, who throws a pistol at rebels who had just aimed guns at him?
I only went along with that madness because I was worried he might actually get shot, but from the perspective of an ordinary man like me, I simply cannot understand it.
Well… I suppose I did challenge the king twice, clash with the Assembly, and even confront the judiciary.
But I always did it within the bounds of common sense.
The reason I challenged the king was because, according to the history I know, Louis Auguste would eventually lose his head to the guillotine anyway and end up shaking hands with Jesus in heaven. Since that was the case, I figured confronting him wouldn’t make much difference.
Again—what I do stays within reasonable limits.
After all, now that I’ve successfully invested in the “Revolution coin,” it would be rather dull if the country didn’t change at all from this hellish eighteenth century.
Things like telling people tomatoes aren’t poisonous and can be eaten, or that washing hands prevents disease—those are just basic pieces of common sense worth spreading.
But that madman beside me didn’t come from the future like I did. How does he do things like this?
Ah.
Maybe that’s why his name ended up in history.
“Whoa, whoa.”
“What’s the matter, driver?”
“There are many prisoners on the road ahead. The path is a bit blocked.”
“Well, the mountain roads of Corsica are rather rough.”
As Napoleon nodded, I looked out of the carriage window.
Russian soldiers in green uniforms were marching in double columns under the escort of French military police.
“…That one looks quite young.”
“Who? The Russian?”
“Yeah.”
He looked about my age.
Whether out of curiosity or simply because I was bored from the traffic jam, I lowered the carriage window and called a gendarme.
“Gendarme.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Could you bring that Russian soldier here?”
“Of course. I will also prepare an interpreter.”
A moment later, a soldier about my age approached, escorted by the gendarmes.
“Greetings.”
“…Yes? May I ask who you are?”
“I am Guillaume de Toulon, Acting Finance Minister.”
“F-F-Finance Minister?! I have committed a terrible offense!”
Ah. Please don’t bow like that.
“It’s fine. Stand up.”
“No! I—”
“I said stand up.”
“Yes, sir!”
His discipline was extremely rigid. It reminded me of my own days as a private, and I felt a bit sorry for him.
“Your name?”
“D-Dmitri.”
“Good. Dmitri. Do you smoke?”
“Ah, yes, but…?”
“Here. Have one. And here’s a light.”
I took out my cigarette case and handed him a cigarette and a match.
The Russian accepted them with an expression of deep gratitude and raised the cigarette to his mouth with both hands.
“…How old are you?”
“Pardon? Ah! I’m eighteen, Your Excellency.”
“Eighteen.”
Sending someone barely an adult to war.
Of course, I’m only twenty-two myself—but counting my previous life, I’m already forty. Seeing such a young soldier stirred a bit of pity in my chest.
“Are you injured anywhere?”
“No. I was fortunate enough to be captured instead of wounded. But…”
“But?”
“I’m worried whether I will be able to go home…”
Home.
Home.
I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them again.
“Do not worry. France, which swears freedom, equality, and fraternity for all people, does not mistreat prisoners of war. Once prisoner negotiations are complete, you will be sent home.”
“Thank you! Thank you!”
“Gendarme.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Could you bring me a horse?”
“Of course.”
“A horse? Going ahead?”
“Yes. The later I arrive in Ajaccio, the later our soldiers will get to go home. And there’s still plenty of work to do.”
The war—the soldiers’ task—was over.
Now only paperwork remained.
If finishing my work a day earlier means our soldiers can go home sooner, I can’t very well waste time.
“…You’re something else. Very well. Travel safely.”
“See you in a few days.”
I flicked the reins sharply.
“…That’s really cool.”
“Dmitri, what are you staring at?”
“N-nothing. Let’s go, gentlemen.”
Freedom.
Equality.
Fraternity.
Dmitri slowly marched forward while repeating those three words to himself.
Versailles Palace.
[Brigadier General Bonaparte has achieved victory. I will stabilize the prisoners and the public sentiment before departing for Paris. Discussion regarding the treatment of prisoners will occur after my arrival in Paris.
P.S. Please prepare many medals. A lot. — Guillaume —]
“Hmm.”
“What does it say, Chairman Mirabeau?”
Mirabeau folded the document carefully and placed it on the table before looking at the young man who had just sat down.
“There is good news from the south, Your Highness.”
“I see. A victory then. That general Napoleon and the Finance Minister have accomplished great things.
Ah! More importantly, are you feeling better? You came all the way to Versailles—surely you could have summoned me instead.”
“…Heh.”
“Why are you laughing?”
“It is nothing, Your Highness.”
Mirabeau lowered his head toward Crown Prince Louis-Philippe with a bitter smile.
If only this gentle and kind prince had become king of the revolutionary kingdom first instead of the late Orléans—though in truth he was not dead.
But reality could not be changed.
Swallowing his regret, Mirabeau spoke.
“Your Highness.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
“Do you know why I came to see you today?”
“I may be Crown Prince, but my learning is shallow. I do not know.”
“I wished to ask what you think of the late King Louis XVII.”
“Ah.”
The young prince fell silent for a moment before slowly shaking his head.
“My father—no, His Majesty—committed unforgivable sins against twenty-seven million Frenchmen. Even though I am his son, what is wrong is wrong. It was unfortunate, but it had to be done.”
“...Thank you, Your Highness.”
“But why ask this now? I have already expressed my thoughts many times to the Assembly and the party leaders.”
“Because the throne cannot remain vacant any longer.”
“You mean… accession?”
The prince’s face twisted.
“I refuse.”
“Your Highness.”
“I am tired of political struggles. I do not wish to become like my father or like my uncle. If an ordinary man like me sits upon the throne, I will surely ruin France.
…I have heard that my uncle has a child. Until that child grows up and claims the position that should rightfully be his, I will merely hold the seat temporarily.”
Mirabeau listened quietly before replying.
“This concerns the survival of France.”
“Survival?”
“The longer the throne remains vacant, the more Europe’s monarchies will suspect our revolutionary government. They will believe France intends to become a republic like the United States.”
“…I do not think a republic or presidency is a bad system.”
“But Europe’s monarchs do. The republic of the New World and a republic in Europe are not the same.”
“….”
“Each day without a king will cause those monarchs to fear us more. They will see us as servants of Satan.
Look at what Russia and Spain have already done. War, Your Highness. War.”
“Russia is barbaric, and south of the Pyrenees is practically Africa. Surely civilized nations like Prussia and the Holy Roman Empire—”
“—would simply attack us more efficiently.”
The prince fell silent before speaking slowly.
“Then if I become king, will the threats disappear?”
“Are you afraid?”
“Of course I am.”
“And that is precisely why you are fit to ascend the throne.”
“What?”
“Because you value each citizen and once carried the red banner of the Revolution alongside them. I do not believe you would lead France toward either extreme.”
“…Please give me some time to think.”
“Of course. I will remain in the chairman’s office. Come see me once you have decided.”
“Very well… I will take my leave. Please take care of your health.”
After placing a heavy burden upon the young prince, Mirabeau opened a drawer and took out a profile file, murmuring softly.
“At my age I only end up tormenting the young.
Next… Georges Danton. Is it this man?”
To create a safeguard that might prevent France’s tragedy.
Mirabeau was burning the last of his life brightly.