A day later, in Napoleon II’s new office, in the room called the King’s Private Apartnt in the Palace of Versailles.
He had vacated his office into this room partly because it is historically the office used by the King of France. Though he renovated it with modern systems such as telegraph operators working adjacent to his room that would transmit his ssage across ministers. The office itself was simple, with an ornantal chair that was comfortable to sit in and a long table where he could entertain governnt officials or foreign diplomats.
As for the evening, it was a casual evening. It was also the evening where Napoleon II and Elisabeth shared the bed together but nothing happened so far since Napoleon II believed it would be a quick developnt. Even though their marriage was quick also, he knew it wasn’t the ti yet, and there were pressing matters that needed his attention first.
Which is...as if on cue, a knock on the door sounded.
"Your Imperial Majesty, the breakfast is ready," Beaumont inford. "Her Imperial Majesty is in the dining room and waiting for you."
Napoleon II nodded though Beaumont couldn’t see it. He couldn’t escape the social etiquette an Emperor must commit. He was accustod to waking up in the morning and then working on the papers and inventions he would pass to the Ministry of Sciences.
"Okay, I’m coming."
Napoleon II rose to his feet, adjusted his robe, and stepped out of the office.
The dining room was modest by Versailles standards. Tall windows let in the morning light. Elisabeth sat at the table near the window, still in a light morning dress, her hair loosely tied back. She had been looking out into the gardens when he entered.
She turned at the sound of his steps.
"Good morning," Napoleon II said.
She blinked once, then smiled faintly. "Good morning. You woke early."
"I always do," he replied. "Old habit."
Servants entered almost imdiately, carrying covered trays. Silver lids were lifted in sequence. Freshly baked croissants, still warm. Pain au chocolat arranged neatly beside them. A basket of brioche sliced thick, accompanied by Normandy butter and small jars of honey and apricot preserves. There were soft-boiled eggs in porcelain cups, slices of jambon de Paris, and a light olette folded cleanly with herbs.
A pot of coffee followed, dark and aromatic, along with hot chocolate prepared in the old court style. Fresh orange juice was poured, followed by a small decanter of mineral water.
Elisabeth reached for a croissant and broke it in half. "This feels almost excessive."
"It’s Versailles," Napoleon II said, taking coffee. "Excess is tradition. Besides, this is how the King of France eats but compared to them, we will eat in moderation or we’ll turn fat like them. Eat what you can only eat, the rest that we can’t eat, it will be disposed of. We can only afford to do so since France has had a strong agricultural output for the last ten years, so no one would co into the palace demanding a right to eat."
"That’s so thoughtful of you," Elisabeth said with a smile.
"Do you have an agenda for today, as an Empress?" Napoleon II asked.
"Well I am to et my Chief Court Mistress and the court ladies that will attend to ," Elisabeth continued, tearing another piece of bread. "There’s a schedule waiting. Audiences, etiquette briefings, charitable appearances. Apparently, the Empress is never idle."
Napoleon II took a spoon and tapped the shell of his egg, cracking it cleanly. "They’ll try to fill every hour."
"I expected that," she said. "I just don’t intend to let them decide everything."
He looked at her. "Good. They shouldn’t."
A servant refilled their cups. Napoleon II poured a little more coffee for himself, then glanced back at Elisabeth.
"What about you?" she asked. "Your first full day."
"Ministers," he said. "Armand will bring nas. Finance, War, Navy, Interior. The Others. I also intend to make new ones."
Elisabeth nodded, chewing slowly. "I see, it’s going to be a long day for you."
"No, not quite. I have ti to spare in the afternoon, perhaps we can do an afternoon stroll to the city. I want to show you the first departnt store in Paris, the Le Bon Marché. Are you familiar by it?"
"I do from stories, it was the largest store ever built and it sells a variety of things. And it is crowded, how are we going to visit such a place without attracting attention?"
"We are going to an old trick, it’s called a disguise," Napoleon II chuckled.
Elisabeth raised an eyebrow. "A disguise?"
"Nothing elaborate," Napoleon II said. "Just enough to be ignored."
She smiled, amused, and returned to her breakfast. Napoleon II finished his coffee and stood soon after. But before he could leave the room, he spoke.
"May you have a great day ahead of you, my darling."
Elisabeth’s cheeks reddened and smiled. "You too, my darling."
With that, he left the dining room with the plans of the day already sorting themselves in his head.
Back in his office. Papers waited on the long table. Armand. He sat and was prepared to start his day. However, a thought lingered.
Hash browns.
Even though he had eaten well and was satisfied, he can’t help but miss the good old tis in his past life. It was his go-to morning breakfast that he loved.
Napoleon II leaned back and exhaled through his nose.
"Beaumont," he called.
The door opened almost imdiately. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?"
"Later this morning," Napoleon II said, "bring two pieces of hash brown to my office."
Beaumont paused. Just long enough.
"Pardon, Your Imperial Majesty," he said carefully. "Hash... brown?"
Napoleon II nodded. "Yes."
There was another pause, longer this ti. "I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the dish."
Napoleon II considered how to explain it. "Potatoes," he said. "Grated. Pressed flat. Fried in oil or butter until crisp. Simple seasoning. Salt is enough."
Beaumont listened, expression neutral but focused, committing every word to mory.
"So... a fried potato cake," he said.
"Essentially," Napoleon II replied.
Beaumont inclined his head. "Understood. I will inform the head chef and see that it’s prepared."
"Thank you."
Beaumont stepped back and closed the door.
Seeing that he left, he cracked his fingers and muttered.
"Now, let’s start this day."
User Comments
0 comments from readers