November 5th, 1799. Four days before the planned coup of Napoleon and his associates. The gray morning sky hung heavy over the streets of Paris as Napoleon arrived at Hôtel de Juigné, the headquarters of the Ministry of Police.
As he stepped off the carriage, a chill wind greeted him, sweeping through the narrow streets and causing his cloak to billow behind him. Napoleon adjusted his hat and straightened his uniform, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a keen, observant gaze.
Immediately, he was greeted by the French guards stationed in the area. With military precision, they stood at attention, their rifles held firmly by their sides. Their eyes met Napoleon's, and they saluted him with a crisp motion, paying homage to the esteemed general who had led them to victory on numerous battlefields.
A tip of the tricorn hats was accompanied by a few words of respect.
Returning their salute with a nod, Napoleon acknowledged their presence.
Passing through the grand entrance of Hôtel de Juigné, Napoleon was greeted by the familiar scent of ink, parchment, and the faint hint of cigar smoke that lingered in the air.
As Napoleon stepped into the Minister of Police's office, his gaze immediately fell upon Joseph Fouché, who sat behind a sturdy oak desk. Fouché commanded the room with his tall frame and broad shoulders, emanating an air of authority.
Fouché's appearance reflected an austere and composed demeanor. His dark hair, now showing streaks of gray, was meticulously groomed, lending him an air of maturity. The lines etched upon his face spoke of years of experience and the burden of his responsibilities. Clad in a tailored suit, Fouché's formal attire accentuated his imposing stature, adding to the aura of power he projected.
"General Napoleon Bonaparte," Fouché greeted, his voice low and gravelly. "Welcome to the Ministry of Police. Your reputation precedes you."
Napoleon offered a nod of acknowledgment, his gaze locking with Fouché's.
"Minister Fouché," Napoleon replied evenly. "Thank you for receiving me despite the short notice."
Fouché's brows furrowed, his expression thoughtful. "While the proposition is intriguing, I must remind you that I already hold the title of Minister of Police. Therefore, I invite you to proceed to the second part—what will convince me to switch sides."
"Okay, I'm sure the royalists haven't forgotten how you slaughtered hundreds of followers during the reign of terror. I heard or more specifically read it in documentation, you have them shot point-blank after forcing them to dig their own graves."
Fouché's face paled as Napoleon's words struck a nerve. To further exacerbate the wound, Napoleon placed a document containing his records onto the tabletop, adding salt to the injury.
"Who else is with you?" Fouche asked, not even bothering to check the folder.
"Everyone, Fouché. Military Generals as Murat and Lefebvre. Politicians such as Sieyes, Cambacérès, Talleyrand..."
"Talleyrand?" Fouche interrupted. "You have taken Talleyrand into your confidants? He betrays literally everybody."
"Rest assured, Fouché, Talleyrand's allegiance lies firmly with himself. He understands that his interests align with mine, and he knows the consequences of betraying our cause. I expect loyalty from each member of our alliance, and in return, I offer them the same."
"Very well, you have my attention, General Bonaparte. You made yourself clear. I'll take some time to consider it," Fouché replied.
"No, Fouché, there's no time for hesitation. It's a matter of now—either you stand with me... or against me," Napoleon declared.
Fouché paused, his eyes locking with Napoleon's intense gaze. After a moment of deliberation, he finally made his decision.
"Alright, I stand with you," Fouché conceded. "But I must express my concerns. What if your plan fails?"
"If our plan fails, Fouché, it won't be execution in the name of the king that awaits you. It will be the Directoire accusing you of conspiracy. By joining me, I am your only hope for survival, Minister Fouché."
Ten minutes later, Napoleon exited the Ministry of Police headquarters with a guarantee of Minister Fouche's support.
Now he has to write letters to the generals he hadn't reached up to yet.
"Let's invite them to dinner."