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ComradeOm said:
I doubt that there are few authors in AARland who would take on the task of featuring the Napoleon... and fewer still who would pull it off as well as you did. An excellent read Lordban.

I may be a bit slow on the uptake but this update also throws great light on the initial introduction.
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Thanks a lot, ComradeOm! These words mean much, especially since there will be more of Napoléon coming in the future :)

The picture is going to get clearer bit by bit. Hopefully the entire prelude will make sense for everybody by the time we reach the Victoria timeframe.


Talking about which... Time for another update ;)
 
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Paris, Armenoville's Salon and Restaurant; March 20th, 1818​


Gaspard Gourgaud had spent nearly two months searching for the toy which attracted the attention of half the clientele at the classy Armenoville's Salon and Restaurant on a chilly evening - the toy had fallen out of fashion since 1815, and had only been fashioned in Great Britain in the first place, and it had been hard to find one kept in a good state. It was a working model of a miniature Napoleon, fat bellied and grotesque, standing at the bottom of a ladder. The toy 'Boney' jerkily mounted the steps, each marked with the name of a country Napoléon had conquered. At the top step, marked St Helena, its legs crumpled and it fell from the ladder, helplessly suspended. There were a few shouts of laughter and many amused smiles. There was also a young woman whose expression showed both surprise and wonder.

'It is...' she began with a feeble voice, not knowing what to say.
'It's a toy the English fashioned to give their children a few scares' the ex-general replied with a grin. 'Just to show a man can have been one of Napoléon's confidants and make as much fun of him as anybody else.'
There was more laughter and some cheers, and an older man clapped his hands, followed by much of the audience in a round of applause to which Gourgaud answered with a deep bow - it had the advantage of hiding just how wide was his grin. The toy 'Boney' had been meant for a rather limited audience; Napoléon's ex-companion hadn't imagined that old Armenoville himself and then most of the night's customers would come over to watch it climb its ladder, stumble and fall.

The cheers and applause certainly weren't what Gourgaud had been used to in the past few months, and especially not coming from the regular customers at Armenoville's. Gourgaud had been introduced at the place by officers who had neither served with him nor under him, but had decided he had been treated unfairly by their King: Gourgaud had been summoned by Louis XVIII himself, who had "graciously" decided not to strip him of his rank of Brigadier-General nor of his title of Baron, but had nevertheless retired him from active service, which had left the man without an occupation and without knowledge of any other trade than war at the age of 35.

Gourgaud had very clear ideas of what he would do. In the wake of the Second Restoration followed many mediocre, and even a few brilliant writers dedicated to writing books slandering the former Emperor and criticizing in detail his defeats - often distorting some facts, obscuring others and lying when it was convenient. Gourgaud's own stipend didn't allow him to fund any kind of publication on a large scale, consequently he had two possibilities left open to him: attract the attention of a rich sponsor, or marry the unwed daughter of an equally-rich family. Both could be found among the regular crowd at Armenoville's; Gourgaud had been trying hard to get accepted by the regulars of the salon, and he knew he couldn't do it by convincing them to adhere to his views.

He already had one asset to make friends: himself. Gaspard Gourgaud was a tall man, lean and muscular, with a handsome face which didn't betray the fact he was already in his mid-thirties with a single line. He had intense black eyes and carefully trimmed black hair; his tan had faded during the winter since his return from St Helena, but his complexion remained that of a man used to spending time outdoors. This agreeable physique had to be complemented by an attractive personality, and here Gourgaud's cheerful nature and confident demeanour also served him. Bringing the toy 'Boney' had had given a masterful final touch to his image: he had been remarked by a large number of influential people who knew he tried to establish a reputation as a cheerful and good-natured man; now, they knew he was such a man.


The only person who had not looked amused by the toy Napoléon was also the woman who had caught Gourgaud's eye. It was also the last person Gourgaud would have expected to surprise by bringing this toy.

Elise Descartes was not the most beautiful of women, at least according to the standards of that time, but she certainly wasn't one which could be forgotten easily. At first glance, she looked extremely fragile: petite and slender, she had a thinly chiseled, pearly white face, adorned by alluring blue eyes evoking ice-faceted jewels, and surrounded by a wealth of hair of the lightest blonde. This frail appearance had led many a man to believe Elise would be a meek and submissive woman; they were invariably taken aback by a razor-sharp mind, the ability to read characters with near-perfect accuracy, and Elise's nonchalant way of displaying her knowledge of the hearts of those men who annoyed her. Inevitably, Elise had acquired quite a reputation among the bourgeois and noblemen of Paris for a twenty-year old woman, and quite a few of these men held grudges against a girl which was too clever for her own good.

Twice a week the Descartes, wealthy Parisian merchants, came over to Armenoville's for supper, and they usually brought their daughter with them; Elise herself would sometimes come with her grandfather, a veteran of many wars who had once proven he still had enough in him to teach unceremonious young men a trick or two. In the wake of that incident he and Gaspard Gourgaud had become good friends. And it was this friendship which had first offered Gourgaud an opportunity to spend some time with young Elise - on those evenings when she wasn't stuck between her parents, who at first did not want to let their daughter in the company of one who claimed to be one of the usurper Napoléon's most ardent supporters.

To tell the truth, Elise had not seemed impressed by Gourgaud's ties with Napoléon either. She talked like a girl who had been raised in a monarchist household, and did not hide the fact her grandfather's tales of battle and of soldierly camaraderie all sounded quite ridiculous to her, especially when she placed them in the perspective of the peaceful reign of a king whose power came from God, and not from men.

But the toy Napoléon had made her ask herself a lot of questions; later that evening, when the salon had become much quieter and its customers were quietly enjoying the distraction provided by a string quartet, she discreetly made it to the seat next to Gourgaud - so discreetly, in fact, that the young man jumped when he heard her whisper:

'Your earlier performance puzzled me, general' she said - and she suppressed a giggle when she saw him half-jump in his seat. 'I hope I didn't scare you' she made with a mischievous little grin.
'I'll have to admit I didn't expect to see you here' Gourgaud breathed back. He quickly managed to recover from the surprise and asked in his most courteous voice: 'Can I get you anything, milady?'
'Answers' Elise replied, all traces of her grin vanished to be replaced with a most serious expression. 'And a little audience as well' she added, 'and maybe a bit of forgiveness. I think I may have judged you a bit too quickly.'

Gourgaud didn't know what to do with Elise's request - to tell the truth, he absolutely didn't know why she had sneaked away from her parents and come to sit with him. All he knew was that he might not be getting another chance at having a quiet conversation with the young woman in a while; he decided to let her ask whatever she needed to know to be comfortable with him, and to wait. The girl had a reputation of knowing exactly what she wanted.
'It's no trouble if you judged me a little quickly' he said with his kindest smile. 'It's pretty easy to make assumptions about someone who's spent three whole years in exile on the same island as Napoléon.'
'Actually that's pretty much what I have been having doubts on' Elise replied. 'I don't understand how a man who would have been so close to the Emperor hasn't been sent into an exile of his own by His Majesty.'
'You're right' Gourgaud made, his own smile fading from his traits. 'I should have been exiled, but Louis' - Elise winced at the mention of the monarch's name - 'the King has apparently been told by the British that I represent no danger to his crown.'
The young woman raised an eyebrow. 'It sounds hardly plausible. If it had been me, I would have made sure there was absolutely nobody in France who might support Napoléon or anybody in his family, should they make a bid for power.'
'You'd need to exile half the country if you were to do that' Gourgaud replied, repressing a smile. 'In my case, though, the British are right. It isn't the Empire, the country, the Nation or the Bonapartists who made me follow the Emperor, it was Napoléon and the way he blended all of our ideals. The other Bonapartes may be his family, none of them are the young artillery lieutenant who served the Revolution and grew to be the ruler who inherited it and built upon it.'
'And then destroyed everything' Elise made derisively.
'Look around yourself. This major, on your right' - he turned his head in the direction of a young nobleman of proud bearing, 'learned what he knew about his trade at the Polytechnics school Napoléon founded. Now look towards the counter. A merchant is paying his bill - in Germinal Francs, a money that was stable enough to survive two falls of France and retain the same value, once again founded by Napoléon.'
'Mere symbols, and they don't really belong to Napoléon' Elise countered.
'What about the laws allowing sir Armenoville to operate this place, then?' Gourgaud said. 'They're written in Napoléon's Code of Laws. The army and the Garde Nationale protecting them? Inherited from the Revolution and reorganized by Napoléon into an army Europe's still afraid of, even when France is supposed to be quite tamed.' Gourgaud made a sweeping gesture, embracing the salon around them - and the world beyond its walls. 'The Empire still lives, milady. The rulers may have changed; the country is the same.'

Elise frowned, but she couldn't find an argument to oppose Gourgaud; she returned to her first inquiry: 'This still doesn't tell me why you haven't been exiled.'
'All I can tell you, once again, is that some influential British must have made our King realize I'm not a threat to his rule.'
'But there must have been somebody very well placed who protected you' Elise continued, focusing an oddly intense gaze on the ex-general.
'I don't know who it might be' the young man replied.
'Would you care to chance a guess?'

Gourgaud hesitated. He didn't understand why the young woman was so insistent on his proving that he was the man he said he was - and on making him give her what knowledge he had, and his speculations on what he didn't know. They were talking as much about politics as they were about him. But then the ex-general reminded himself that Elise was precisely the kind of woman who'd be interested in the intellectual challenge presented by proving - or disproving - that he himself was a man she could trust, and a man who had more to offer her than good looks.

He had no way of knowing for sure, but he was right on both accounts.

'If I were to give a name' he finally made, 'it would be one connected with Admiral George Cockburn.'
'Admiral Cockburn? The governor of Cape Town?'
'The very same. He was in charge of the Emperor's wardens at St Helena before he took his post there.'
'Oh.' Elise looked a little confounded. 'And... the toy Napoléon?'
'No, I didn't bring it back from St Helena' Gourgaud replied, stifling a laugh which would have been most unwelcome. 'But I discovered such toys existed there.'
'Do tell me that story, please' Elise asked with genuine interest.
'Well, the plans had been to lodge the Emperor at the Longwood manor, in the centre of the island, but when we arrived at St Helena the place wasn't ready for him - in fact governor Wilks' orders to take Napoléon into his custody came on the same ship as the Emperor. And of course there wasn't a suitable place to host all of our party in the mean time. Las Cases and I looked for houses for everybody, and the ones who accepted to lodge us and the Emperor were a family of merchants, the Balcombes.'
'And they spoke French?' Elise inquired.
'Just the eldest daughter, Betsy' Gourgaud replied.
'Weren't they afraid?'
'Most of the people on the island were, but not young Betsy. In fact' and Gourgaud smiled, 'she ended up being quite fond of him. When they were together Napoléon wasn't the Emperor, but rather an older brother. Their games together used to make Las Cases mad - he just couldn't stand seeing Betsy's complete ignorance of etiquette when she was with the Emperor.'
'And what about you?' Elise inquired.
'To be honest, I couldn't stand it either.' Gourgaud smiled. 'It wasn't until recently that I understood why Napoléon didn't mind Betsy's manners. She was the only one on that island who thought of him as a man, and not as a legend. And you might want to leave as discreetly as you came' Gourgaud added, careful not to move his gaze, 'your parents seem to have noticed your absence.'
'Alright, but promise me you'll finish the story of this toy someday' Elise replied with a smile of her own, also careful not to make herself noticed.
'They're in the courtside corner' Gourgaud made, giving Elise a hint of her parents' position. 'And I promise.'
'Thank you, Gaspard.'

Elise leaned and kissed Gourgaud's cheek. Her lips were oddly cold, as though she were sick, but Gourgaud didn't mind at that moment - he was just anxious to see her leave for a less questionable part of the salon. He was fascinated at the ease with which the girl blended through the shadows in a blur of fluid motions; he only managed to follow her with his gaze because he had not shifted his eyes from her.

But then he forced himself to look elsewhere; it would do him no good to let Elise get away from him unseen only to betray her whereabouts with his gaze. Instead he replayed the short conversation in his head. It hadn't gone halfway as badly as it might have, considering the touchy subjects they had discussed.


When Gourgaud finally left Armenoville late in the evening, the Descartes were already gone, but Elise was still in the young man's thoughts. He knew that at some point the young woman would offer him apologies for having doubted who he was - she certainly had sounded like a person who didn't like misjudging other people, especially when her bad opinion of them was unjustified.

He was busy imagining how she might repay for the offence made to him. And hoping repayment would involve a pair of fresh, light pink lips.


**


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General-Baron Gaspard Gourgaud​
 
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**​


From the personal diary of Elsie von Carstein


March 21st, 1818


Caine be thrice damned! Three months wasted by refusing to believe Gourgaud was not anybody else's pawn, when I could have approached him as early as in January! Even worse, it was his own moves which prove him not to be an agent of any court! Who knows how much longer I could have spent studying him before finally deciding to see him for what he was... Age has made me too paranoid for my own good.

And now with the days growing longer here it will be much harder to find myself in Gourgaud's company as long as will be necessary to obtain all the details he can give me about this Betsy Balcombe. Of course, I could employ much more direct means than straight conversation with the good ex-general, but the odds of the Prince discovering I am up to something are too great, especially now that travel to St Helena will be a hard proposition.

I also have to try and find a way to check on the Balcombe girl. All my efforts with Gourgaud are going to be quite pointless if the girl I intend to impersonate no longer lives on the island. And in case she is not, conversation with Gourgaud will have to revolve on other women sure to live at St Helena. Who knows, one of them might even be the reason why the delicious young general had to leave his Emperor...


In the mean time arrangements must be made for my proxy to move to London. She is no longer needed here, not when I am going to have to handle Gourgaud delicately. He is bound to notice if a woman he starts to be intimate with forgets the events of one evening and remembers them on another. It will be cause for some trouble with the shortening of the nights, but I can always fall back on a grave illness as an explanation. And if worse comes to worst, I can always burn Armenoville's place. It was paid for with my money, after all.


It is ironic how I have difficulty keeping interest on the whole affair. It must have to do with frequenting human society again; it has been so long since I last mingled with them. It is lucky none of the people at Armenoville's could understand my surprise when Gourgaud showed off his ridiculous toy; none of them could conceive that I was actually amazed at how precise craftsmen are today. Today's human world is too different from the one I knew, and the pace at which they make progress seems to become faster with every passing decade.

And Gourgaud deserves thanks for bringing the toy. It has made me understand why the younger of my kin have cause to scorn their elders; we are hopelessly behind the times, and there is almost no chance we will ever catch up. It is incredibly frustrating to see no other option than to rely upon much younger people to handle the day-to-day business; I have this impression my existence will not serve any real purpose for long. With no interest in playing the games kin of my age enjoy, it looks like one of the most dangerous foes I shall have to face in the next centuries will be boredom.

But then, if I manage to take hold of St Helena's prisoner, odds are there will be little opportunity for boredom. Breaking the will of Napoléon Bonaparte and remaking him into a servant of my will should be... Interesting.


**​
 
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I had not suspected early on that we were working with something supernatural, but certainly this last post gives that away. Very interesting - zombie Napoleon indeed. :D

And the scene with the General and his hoped to be lady love came off expertly, and means just a bit more now that we know there is more to it than simply young love.

Great stuff, Lordban. This gets better and better with each post.
 
Lordban said:
Here begins (and hopefully won't end :p ) a tale which is, if I may say so, mostly Rensslaer's fault: the Prussian Prince has convinced me to try Vicky at last, and the purchase won't be regretted :)
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:rofl:

I started reading this a week ago, but didn't quite have time to make it through the first update, which meant I didn't see this until today.

I will gladly accept "blame" for inspiring works of talent such as this! You're doing a fine job, from what I've read. I'll get caught up soon, I hope. You're fast out of the gate.

Once I really started reading and understanding the first scene, my mind immediately flashed to the early scenes of The Count of Monte Cristo, where they splash ashore and run into the exiled Napoleon. So, in finding that your story has to do with just this setting (not the storyline, but the location and person), I was happily impressed!

My interest piqued by Coz1's comment, I read, also, the final scene, which seems suggestive of a vampiric overtone, perhaps? This should be an interesting element.

I must say, on that line, that Napoleon did seem rather superhuman. In college, I did a senior paper on Napoleon's correspondence, as our library had some 1870's tomes which transcribed Napoleon's correspondence with his generals and intimates. He wrote something like 12-20 letters a day, with such minute attention to detail as to say how an admiral should approach a certain beach and conduct his landing. Truly remarkable!

Great work! I look forward to keeping up with this!

Rensslaer
 
coz1 said:
I had not suspected early on that we were working with something supernatural, but certainly this last post gives that away. Very interesting - zombie Napoleon indeed. :D

And the scene with the General and his hoped to be lady love came off expertly, and means just a bit more now that we know there is more to it than simply young love.
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Supernatural indeed :D And you'll be getting a precise idea of what kind of supernatural beings are interested in poor Nappy soon :)

Thanks for the support!

Rensslaer said:
I will gladly accept "blame" for inspiring works of talent such as this! You're doing a fine job, from what I've read. I'll get caught up soon, I hope. You're fast out of the gate.
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In other words, I happened to have quite a bit of time on my hands these last few days :D I'll be continuing at a slightly slower pace, but I really wanted to get a good part of the introduction out of the way :)

Rensslaer said:
My interest piqued by Coz1's comment, I read, also, the final scene, which seems suggestive of a vampiric overtone, perhaps? This should be an interesting element.
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And the major difficulty involving supernatural beings will be not to go overboard :)
... the amusing part will be to write their frustration when some of their plans fail in spite of all the advantages they enjoy over the mortals they try to manipulate :p

Rensslaer said:
I must say, on that line, that Napoleon did seem rather superhuman. In college, I did a senior paper on Napoleon's correspondence, as our library had some 1870's tomes which transcribed Napoleon's correspondence with his generals and intimates. He wrote something like 12-20 letters a day, with such minute attention to detail as to say how an admiral should approach a certain beach and conduct his landing. Truly remarkable!
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And the contrast between a Napoléon able to shoulder an immense workload and ancient beings who have a hard time getting the motivation to start working will definitely play a role in how this story unfolds.


Thanks a lot for the comments, Rensslaer; coming from a writAAR who's managed to complete a work like 'Fire Warms the Northern Lands', they're certainly a pleasure to read :)
 
Zombie Napoleon? Well, perhaps not quite... but close... I don't suppose that I've read any AARs of this variety, as mentioned earlier, but this one is a good start so keep up the good work!
 
Corbett said:
Zombie Napoleon? Well, perhaps not quite... but close... I don't suppose that I've read any AARs of this variety, as mentioned earlier, but this one is a good start so keep up the good work!
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Thanks again!

You can expect an update later tonight, when I am back from work :)
 
Gourgaud will be staying with us for quite some time :) And Albine Hélène will have her turn in the spotlight as well.

And I'm afraid the update will wait until tomorrow - posting an update written while half-sleeping on a keyboard isn't a good idea :p
 
Mmm, that is a young woman who is far too dangerous for a simple innocent like Gourgaud? :)
 
stnylan said:
Mmm, that is a young woman who is far too dangerous for a simple innocent like Gourgaud? :)
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Assuming a woman of her age is young, that is correct ;)


**


Everyone, I'm sorry no update's up yet: I've managed the magnificent feat of losing what I typed not once, nor twice, but thrice! :eek:o And it was already annoying to write it all again the third time :p

Anyways I'll be off tomorrow to tortu- er, have my D&D table enjoy a few well thought-out challenges ( :D ), meaning that I won't have time to type the entire update for the fourth time, a penance that will have to wait until Sunday ;) A little teaser in the mean time; there will be names here which can be recognized :)


**


'My Prince', the taller of the two bodyguards said apprehensively, 'he will not appreciate our being late.'
'This will take but a few moments' Villon replied, and then he turned to examine the skulls attentively. 'Come closer' he ordered. 'I will need enough light to check whether it's him. It's not', and Villon muttered his last words, 'that you're really interested in my being on time. For all I know, you're already with us, spying on us from the shadows...'

The Parisian Prince leaned closer to the skull which had caught his eye, studying it. Half of the upper-left jaw was missing, and there started a chink which went almost to the top of the cheekbone. Villon gently picked the skull up and held it in front of him, keeping it at arms' length.
He smiled and spoke in a soft voice: 'It did not turn out as well as you hoped it would, don't you think, Maximilien?'
'Are you not afraid someone might whisper the same words to you some night?' a wheezy voice made from the direction where Villon had come from.


The Prince lowered the skull, and he and his escort turned to face the newcomer; the two men's faces blanched as they gazed at the -thing- which had been following them since only Caine knew when.

It was a horrible sight. The silhouette and the general shape was that of a human, but it only made the creature more horrible. It was draped in ragged black robes which allowed one glimpses at corpse-thin limbs, covered by an impossibly wrinkled skin sporting hundreds of small, black pustules. The face was no less nightmarish: there the skin was of a light gray crisscrossed with scars of darker gray, stretched to its limits on the skull's bones - and beyond, as several slits opened on the cheeks, reminiscent of some fish's fins. The creature had no lips, leaving those who met it to gaze at two rows of jagged, yellow teeth sprouting in mismatched directions from black, oozing gums. Yellow-irised eyes sunken into orbits deep enough to nearly hide them in their shadow completed the picture.

Which did not impress the Parisian Prince: he had seen his fair share of such wretched creatures over the span of four centuries. It was, however, the first time he met one who was technically his superior.

'Lord Josef von Bauren' the Prince made with a nod.
'François Villon' the creature replied. 'It is good to see you have not forgotten one of your most precious helpers.'
'How unfortunate that it was never possible to make him into a willing helper' Villon replied with a smirk. 'He would have made a wonderful agent for the Camarilla.'
'He would have kept killing his people until there were not enough left to stand against Europe's monarchies' von Bauren growled.
'I thought the Camarilla had agreed upon the fact Napoléon Bonaparte was one of the worst things to happen to us since the Inquisition' Villon countered icily. 'Had the idiots who set up Barras stopped to think about the consequences of toppling Robespierre before France was on the brink of collapsing, we would have taken Paris back from the Anarchs twenty years earlier.'
'Yes, and certainly the Prince of France would have to devote less time to dealing with the consequences of the Anarch revolts in territories which had not been under his control prior to the Revolution' von Bauren replied, his yellow eyes glinting. 'Still, you have little reason to complain. No Prince in this world owns half the demesne the Prince of Paris had under his direct control in 1789; the Revolution has made you the most powerful of all the visible rulers of the Camarilla, and by far.'

Villon looked at von Bauren malevolently, pondering his chances of defeating the ancient creature.
'Would you like to try, François?' von Bauren made softly.


**
 
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Methinks I detect a hint or two of White Wolf :)
 
Spooky! Just the thing to help lead us up to Halloween!

I wonder, Lordban - do you have any good recommendations of General French histories? In English of course, s'il vous plait. ;) The ones I get my hands on are always broken down by time and I've always wanted a good general history to use as a "jumping off point" if you will.

Looking forward to where this tease takes us! Good luck at the D&D. :D
 
Lordban said:
'Lord Josef von Bauren' the Prince made with a nod.
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Shades of Nosferatu.

Excellent writing, and congrats on being the Weekly Showcase. :)
 
Okay, you've caught me, hook line and sinker. Will we get to see an undead Bonaparte rise again?
 
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