On the brisk morning of November 5th, 1795, Napoleon strode purposefully along the road, his luggage in tow. With each step, his confident bearing radiated the undeniable aura of a seasoned military leader. Dressed in his impeccably tailored uniform, he commanded attention wherever he went.
The people he passed by were unable to contain their curiosity and admiration. They whispered among themselves, pointing discreetly at him, the man who saved the republic from the royalists' forces in the 13th of Vendémiaire.
Napoleon acknowledged the onlookers with a nod and a warm smile, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd.
Arriving at the place where the horse-drawn carriages were stationed, Napoleon paused for a moment, noticing a familiar man standing there.
"Citizen Director Barras," Napoleon greeted. "I didn't expect to run into you here."
Barras returned Napoleon's smile. "Ah, General Bonaparte," he said, extending his hand. "I thought I might find you here. I wanted to personally congratulate you on your remarkable victory during the Vendémiaire uprising."
Napoleon accepted the handshake warmly. "It was my job as the soldier of the republic
to defend its principles," Napoleon replied modestly. "But I appreciate your kind words, Citizen Director."
Barras chuckled, his voice carrying a note of admiration. "Modesty suits you, General. Anyways, you are heading home now? Your wife and children must be waiting for you."
"That's right. I told them that I'll return as soon as I finish my business here."
Barras interjected with a smile, "I have arranged for a carriage to take you directly to your family. Consider it a small token of our gratitude for your service."
Napoleon's expression softened with gratitude. "Citizen Director, that is truly generous of you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."
"But you will return to Paris right? You are the General in Chief of the Army of the Interior."
"Chantilly is just 50 kilometers away, Citizen Barras, I can easily return when needed," Napoleon assured him. "For now, I am eager to return to my estate. Would that be all?"
"General Bonaparte, it's wonderful to have you back," Beaumont greeted with a warm smile. "The staff and your wife have been eagerly awaiting your return."
Napoleon returned Beaumont's smile, grateful for the warm welcome. "Thank you, Beaumont. It's good to be home."
As he walked through the grand entrance of Château de Chantilly, a wave of familiarity washed over him. The opulent halls echoed with the soft rustling of servants attending to their duties, and the scent of fresh flowers filled the air.
Arriving at the door, the manservants opened it.
"Where is Ciela?" Napoleon asked.
"She is currently in the bedroom of your children, Bonaparte," Beaumont replied.
"Anything interesting that happened here while I was away?"
"None, General. Though we have received news about your promotion in the newspaper, on how you saved the National Convention from the royalists."
"Is that so?" Napoleon's lips curled into a smile. "Very well, I shall meet her. The rest of you can continue with your duties."
Napoleon made his way upstairs, his footsteps echoing through the quiet hallways, and reached the bedroom of his children.
Pushing open the door, he entered the room and found his wife, Ciela, currently breastfeeding Aveline.
Napoleon's heart swelled with warmth at the sight of his wife and child. Ciela turned her head, a smile lighting up her face as she noticed her husband's arrival. She gently detached Aveline from her breast and cradled the infant in her arms.
"Napoleon," she whispered.
Napoleon closed the distance between them, his eyes fixed on their newborn daughter. He reached out and gently caressed Aveline's tiny hand and planted a kiss on Ciela's forehead.
"I see that Francis is sleeping?" Napoleon said, turning his gaze towards the crib where Francis lay peacefully, fast asleep.
"Yes," Ciela replied softly. "He fell asleep just a little while ago. Do you want to carry Aveline?"
"Yes, I do," Napoleon answered with a tender smile. He carefully took Aveline from Ciela's arms, cradling her delicately against his chest. The baby stirred slightly, her tiny fingers curling around Napoleon's thumb.
Napoleon couldn't help but smile as he looked down at his daughter. There is this indescribable feeling in him that he couldn't explain. So this is what it is like to be a father, he thought to himself.