What happens if Napoleon Bonaparte is resurrected in a fantasy world to save a whole continent from a Demon Lord?
A moment after his death, the former ruler of Europe receives a visit from the mysterious Faucheur, who proposes him to reborn in anoth...
"You lead a people only by offering them a better future –
a leader is a dealer of hope."
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I hadn't been blessed with a fit and athletic body in my previous life. On the contrary, I had always been of rather frail, constitution, proved by the fact that I died earlier than I had expected.
As if that wasn't enough, at one point I had over-indulged in pleasures, and this had certainly contributed to my untimely death.
This was one of many mistakes I was determined not to repeat.
Free from constraints and family ties, I was now able to raise my new body to its ultimate fitness, making it want for nothing.
I kept myself in constant training by hunting, and combining my prey with vegetables and fruits, I was able to follow a balanced and highly energetic diet that gave me the strength necessary for new exercises in an endless virtuous circle.
Five years after having made the agreement with Borg, the small and skinny boy had become a young man who was preparing to enter adulthood at his full strength.
I had toned muscles, sharp eyesight, and quick reflexes. Much aware of how a good appearance is the best calling card, I had also taken care of the external appearance, no longer forced to cover my true self underneath fancy unforms and war medals.
In the meantime, I had finally left my home in the ghetto to move to the cabin with Drufo, finally dismissing the non-existent Mr. Haselworth and taking his place in the eyes of the world.
Of course, I had always taken good care of public relations. As I'd expected, working for the Borg had been my pass into the power chambers of all of Western Erthea. That pig might be an arrogant, slimy, opportunistic son of a sow, but he was a man of his word who also knew how to praise talent and keep his investors happy. From the day I entered his service, remaining there even after honoring our agreement in full, he had never once broken his promise of an honest relationship, first deducting every single goldie from my debt with absolute precision and then paying me punctually for every job I did for him.
It was also thanks to me and the income I provided with my work that in just three years he had been able to leave the musty cave for a real warehouse, built in a secluded area a stone's throw from Via Magna.
The day he had introduced me to my first Torian merchant he had called me the best investment of his life, and with such credentials it had not been difficult for me to win the good graces of many influential people, bestowing favors and services that I could one day hope to take back.
Some of those dapper fixers had been foolish enough to involve me in such dirty business that when the time was right it would have been child's play to blackmail them into cooperation.
After all, when I said to Borg that hunting was the sole thing I would have done for him, I had never said that I would not devote myself to other activities on my own.
