Grande Armée in Another World: The Eagle and the Queen

Chapter 14 - Parade

Cloumille and Bonaparte's allied forces passed through the gates of Riverside City and paraded down the main street of the capital. Those clearly allied with Axeland had already fled the capital, so those who remained either welcomed Cloumille's arrival or watched from a distance. Since there was no one actively seeking to attack, the entry parade proceeded peacefully.

"Look, that's apparently the French army."

"No one is wearing armor."

"They fight with tubes that breathe fire, I hear."

"They say they can walk all day without getting tired and continue walking through the night emitting light from their eyes."

The citizens marveled at the French soldiers, gossiping amongst themselves, eager to get a closer look. Some even approached so closely that they touched the soldiers' shoulders, much to the surprise of the French troops.

"They seem to be welcoming us."

Jacques, a young French soldier walking alongside Vigo, a veteran soldier with a mustache, spoke as they marched. Despite their unit retreating in the previous battle, they had held their ground, earning commendations from Bonaparte and the battalion. Thanks to this, they were given the honor of leading the battalion in the entry parade. The day before, their comrades skilled in sewing had patched up their worn-out uniforms from marching and combat, improving their appearance.

"We're just a curiosity. Don't be too friendly, or they'll disrespect us."

"They're welcoming us, so there's no need to be rude. Besides, if they try anything, we have weapons."

Jacques asserted confidently, to which Vigo whispered softly so the other soldiers couldn't hear.

"How brave of you. Remember when you were crying to me on the battlefield?"

"We DON'T talk about that! I was really on the verge of breaking down at that time."

"Keep quiet. If you share some of the alcohol we'll be getting later, I'll let it slide."

"Alright, alright. I'll share some booze or meat with you..."

. . .

When Cloumille and Bonaparte appeared with knights in tow, the cheers grew even louder.

Who could this person be, having defeated two renowned generals from Axeland alongside an army from another world? Many had their imaginations running wild. Some said he wielded a sword that could stretch and contract at will, others claimed he shot lightning from his hands to defeat knights, and yet another whispered that he could kill knights using cursed words.

"Bonaparte lifted giant rocks to crush Duke Zodaf and his knights. He flattened a hundred horses overnight, drank fifty barrels of wine carried by his army, and still thirsted for more. He sucked the blood of captured soldiers and made beds out of their skins."

"He's a terrifying giant of a man, his voice booming like thunder, speaking terrifying incantations that render listeners unconscious or possess their souls."

Such tales were predominantly spun in taverns, with crowds competing to exaggerate them as much as possible, becoming the subject of people's conversations.

Hence, when Bonaparte appeared slightly nervously alongside Queen Cloumille, riding his horse, some initially mistook him for a servant or some other attendant of the queen. However, it was inconceivable for a servant to ride alongside the queen, and his attire was neither that of a servant nor a noble. So, people were slightly surprised, wondering if that figure could indeed be Bonaparte.

The runt didn't seem to match at all with the terrifying giant that could kill a knight with a single blow as described in the stories, being much smaller than the queen and the surrounding knights, his unkempt black hair falling to his shoulders, his grayish-blue eyes large but sharp, giving off a gaze that resembled a discarded stray dog or a wolf on the hunt. It seemed like sharp canines would be visible if he opened his mouth.

While Bonaparte displayed authority to the masses, occasionally flashing a smile as bright as a blooming flower, unlike Cloumille, he maintained a perpetually unsociable and rejecting gaze toward those around him. It wasn't that he intended to intimidate the crowd; it was simply his natural demeanor. Unless he consciously tried to be amiable, his expression naturally turned grim.

In Bonaparte's mind, winning the favor of the populace wasn't his concern. That was something Cloumille would handle. How to distribute the spoils of the previous battle among the nobles, how many soldiers could be supported with that money, how to compensate for the lost soldiers and equipment, what the retreating enemies would do next, how to obtain geographical information of this world, what was necessary to unify this kingdom under Cloumille's rule, whether they could return to France—all these thoughts swirled in his head. What was Josephine, whom he left back in their homeland, doing now? Were there baths in this city?

The stirring military band of the French army played heroic tunes and sang with voices echoing in the blue sky. Even though the meaning of the song was not entirely clear, swept away by the cheerful atmosphere, Bonaparte found himself clapping jovially along with the citizens, feeling as if he were the only one under a rain cloud amidst the sunshine.

. . .

After the entry parade concluded, the soldiers dispersed to their assigned accommodations.

The city had some barracks set up for lodging the soldiers, and they were delighted to finally enjoy sleep under a roof. Beds were claimed in order of rank, leaving the lower ranks to make do with bundles of straw. Nevertheless, compared to sleeping in the open fields, it felt like heaven.

About half of the soldiers swiftly departed into the realm of dreams, while the other half, holding onto the money earned by selling equipment scavenged from the battlefield to local merchants or receiving salaries in coins that could be used in this world, headed into the city seeking taverns or brothels.

Vigo and Jacques, along with their comrades, entered the barracks and unloaded their heavy baggage.

"Vigo, why don't we go to the city too?"

"If you want to go, go alone. I want to sleep."

"You can sleep anytime. Besides, this is my first time exploring a foreign city, so come with me!"

Jacques pulled at Vigo's arm, who seemed annoyed, lying down on a bundle of straw. Vigo frowned for a moment but eventually agreed to go along.

"Fine... Those green recruits like you get fleeced in the city. It's your own business if you end up penniless, but don't go causing trouble with the locals."

"I get it. Let's go!"

. . .

While the soldiers were enjoying a brief respite, Bonaparte entered the palace known as the Aurault Palace in the heart of the city. Adorned with magnificent fountains and sculptures, it was originally built as the retreat of Gulbas, the father of Cloumille who united in this world. It was a testament to the Uniter's power in his day.

"Are you okay, Napoleon?"

Before entering the audience chamber where the princes awaited, Cloumille asked in French, which she had learned from Bonaparte.

"I'm fine," Bonaparte replied confidently.

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Thank you very much for always reading. I would be delighted to receive your feedback on my work or any comments related to Napoleon. If you could provide specific points of evaluation, it would further encourage me.

- Nagagutsu Kumage Bōshi