The Army of the North didn't march. It swarmed.
We moved like a plague of locusts across the German plains. One hundred thousand men. No baggage train. No tents. No supply wagons.
We lived off the land. We ate the grain from the Bavarian fields. We requisitioned cattle from the villages. We slept in barns or under the stars.
I rode at the front, wrapped in a heavy wool cloak to hide the fact that I was shivering in the summer heat. Danton rode beside me, looking miserable on a horse that was barely strong enough to carry him.
"We are lost," Danton muttered for the hundredth time. "We are three hundred miles from France. If the Austrians cut the road behind us, we starve."
"Drive forward," I rasped. "Don't look back."
We moved so fast the news couldn't keep up. The German princes didn't even know we were at war until my dragoons were drinking their wine cellars dry.
We were a ghost army. A rumor. A terrifying force of nature moving east, always east.
"La Marseillaise" echoed off the mountains.
Allons enfants de la Patrie...
The men sang it until their throats bled. They weren't fighting for a paycheck. They were fighting for the End of Kings.
And I, the King of France, was leading them.
The irony tasted like blood in my mouth.
We reached the heights of Kahlenberg overlooking Vienna.
It was sunset. The city lay below us, golden and beautiful. The spire of St. Stephen's Cathedral pierced the sky. The Danube wound through the valley like a silver snake.
It was the capital of the Holy Roman Empire. The seat of the Hapsburgs. The oldest power in Europe.
And it was completely undefended.
The Austrian army was still in Belgium, digging trenches, waiting for an attack that never came.
"Mother of God," Danton whispered, staring at the city. "We're actually here."
"Set up the batteries," I ordered.
My engineers wheeled the cannons into position. The ugly, bronze guns cast from the bells of French churches.
"Target the Palace," I said. "And the Cathedral."
"Sire?" the artillery commander asked. "Those are civilian targets."
"This isn't a battle," I said. "It's a negotiation. Load with explosive shell."
An hour later, a rider came up the hill from the city. He was carrying a white flag.
It was a diplomat. He looked terrified. He had seen the cannons.
"His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Leopold II, requests a parley," the diplomat stammered.
"Tell him to come here," I said. "Bring a pen."
The meeting took place in a tent pitched in the mud.
Emperor Leopold arrived in a gilded carriage. He stepped out, wearing a white uniform covered in medals, a powdered wig, and silk stockings. He smelled of rosewater.
I stepped out of my tent.
I was wearing muddy boots, a torn blue coat, and a tricolor sash. I hadn't shaved in three days. I smelled of horse and sweat.
Danton stood behind me, cleaning his nails with a knife.
Leopold looked at me. He looked at Danton. He looked at the cannons aimed at his bedroom.
"Louis," Leopold said. His voice was trembling with indignation. "What is the meaning of this? You invade my lands? You threaten my capital? This is barbarism!"
"It's leverage, Leopold," I said.
I didn't bow. I didn't offer him a chair.
"I want a treaty," I said. "Right now."
"You are mad," Leopold scoffed. "My army is in Belgium. They will crush Paris while you are playing bandit in my garden."
"Your army is three weeks away," I said. "My cannons are three seconds away."
I pointed to the city.
"Vienna is a beautiful city, Leopold. Lots of history. It would be a shame to turn it into a parking lot."
"A what?"
"Rubble," I corrected. "I will burn it. I will burn the Hofburg. I will burn the Opera. I will burn the banks."
Leopold turned pale.
"You wouldn't dare. You are a King. You are God's anointed!"
"I am a CEO," I said. "And I am closing this deal."
I slapped a document onto the table.
"Here are the terms. France annexes the Austrian Netherlands. France annexes the Rhineland. You recognize the French Republic. And you pay an indemnity of 500 million francs to cover my expenses."
"Never!" Leopold shouted. "This is extortion!"
"I prefer 'hostile takeover,'" I said.
I raised my hand.
"Fire One," I said calmly.
BOOM.
The cannon on the ridge behind me fired.
We watched the shell arc over the city.
It slammed into the Imperial Gardens, just outside the palace walls. A plume of dirt and trees erupted.
The ground shook under our feet.
Leopold grabbed the table for support.
"That was a warning," I said. "The next one goes through your bedroom window. Then the Cathedral. Then the banks."
I dipped a quill in the inkwell and held it out to him.
"Sign it, Leopold. Or be the Emperor of Ash."
Leopold looked at the pen. He looked at the smoke rising from his garden. He looked at the hundred thousand screaming Frenchmen on the hill.
The Old World blinked.
He took the pen. His hand shook violently.
He signed.
"You have destroyed the order of Europe," Leopold whispered, dropping the quill. "God will punish you."
"Let Him get in line," I said.
I took the treaty.
"Pleasure doing business with you."
I rode back up the hill to the cheers of the army.
"VICTORY! VICTORY!"
They threw their hats in the air. They kissed my boots.
I smiled. I waved.
And then the world tilted sideways.
The pain in my chest exploded. It wasn't an ache anymore. It was a knife.
My vision went white.
I slid off the saddle.
"Sire!"
I hit the mud.
I couldn't breathe. My heart was fluttering like a dying moth.
"Get a doctor!" Danton's voice. Panic.
I closed my eyes.
The darkness was warm. Peaceful.
I saw my old office in New York. The glass walls. The ergonomic chair. The quiet hum of the server room. The spreadsheet glowing on the screen.
Cell C4: Merger Complete.
It was so quiet. No cannons. No screaming. No blood.
I wanted to stay there.
"Louis! Wake up!"
A slap.
I gasped, sucking in air.
I opened my eyes.
I was in a wagon. The canvas roof was flapping in the wind.
Danton was leaning over me. He looked terrified.
"You're alive," Danton breathed. "You crazy bastard. You actually did it."
I tried to sit up. My body felt like lead.
"The treaty?" I wheezed.
"Signed," Danton said. "We won. We own Belgium. We own the Rhine. We broke the Empire."
He laughed, a shaky sound.
"You are the greatest conqueror since Charlemagne, Louis. They'll build statues of you."
I lay back.
I had done it. I had saved the company. I had secured the borders.
I could rest.
The wagon flap opened.
A rider scrambled in. He was covered in dust. He wore the uniform of a courier from Paris.
"Sire!" the rider gasped. "Message from Minister Bonaparte!"
He handed a sealed letter to Danton.
Danton opened it. He read it.
His face went pale. The joy vanished.
"What?" I asked. "Did the English invade?"
Danton looked at me.
"No," he said. "It's the Queen."
My heart stuttered.
"Marie?"
"She escaped," Danton said.
I froze.
"Escaped? She was in the Tower. Under guard."
"She had help," Danton read. "Someone on the inside. A guard. They drugged the sentries. She's gone, Louis."
"Where?"
"West," Danton said. "To the Vendée. To the rebels."
He looked at me with grim realization.
"She isn't just a refugee anymore. She's a leader. The Catholic Army has crowned her 'Regent of the Faithful.'"
I closed my eyes.
I had conquered an empire. I had humiliated an Emperor. I had redrawn the map of Europe.
But I couldn't keep a door locked.
The external war was over. But the internal war—the war for the soul of France—was just beginning.
And my enemy wasn't a stranger in a wig. It was the woman who knew all my secrets.
"Turn the army around," I whispered.
"Sire?"
"Turn them around!" I shouted, coughing blood. "We aren't going home to a parade. We are going home to a civil war."
I gripped Danton's arm.
"We have to kill the rebellion, Georges. Before she kills us."