Chapter 257 A Couple’s Brief Visit to Paris

Chapter 257 A Couple's Brief Visit to Paris

September 20th, 1801.

The grandeur of Paris sprawled before them as Napoleon and Ciela observed the bustling city from their horse-drawn carriage. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on cobblestones accompanied their progress through the vibrant capital. The carriage, with its open top, allowed the crisp autumn breeze to tousle Napoleon's hair and rustle Ciela's elegant dress.

The two sat side by side, absorbing the sights and sounds of a city in perpetual motion. Construction workers toiled nearby, their sweat glistening in the golden afternoon sun.

The buggy stopped at the construction site of the Arc de Triomphe. It's been a year since he had commissioned constructing the monument which would become the cultural symbol of France and the monument celebrating French victory in the First and Second Coalition and the successful invasion of the British Empire.

The foundation or the very structure of the monument itself was finished. The only thing that is left is the ornaments, decorations, and sculptures.

Napoleon watched the twenty sculptors striking their chisels with precision and artistry, each blow bringing the monumental edifice closer to completion.? He wanted the Arc de Triomphe to be completed by the end of the year. So to make it a reality, he had hired tens of talented sculptors, artisans, and craftsmen from across the realm, each contributing their expertise to this grand undertaking.

He then swept his head around, looking at the future twelve avenues that would radiate out from the completed Arc de Triomphe, like the spokes of a great wheel, connecting the heart of Paris to its various districts.

"So far, according to Bouchard, the construction of the avenues, boulevards, and parks are progressing smoothly," Napoleon remarked, his eyes narrowing with contemplation.

Ciela, her gaze fixed on the laborers and architects shaping the city's future, nodded in agreement. "It's remarkable that they could do so much in such a short amount of time."

"Well you can thank modern technology for that," Napoleon said and added. "And the fact that we mobilized millions of citizens on the grand project."

"Or I should thank you," Ciela finally looked at Napoleon. "You were the one who introduced those technologies. And thanks to you, Paris is looking comparably similar to our vision of Paris."

Vision of Paris is basically a codeword they used when referring to Paris in the 21st century. They came up with it whenever they would inspect the ongoing construction to prevent misunderstandings among the local populace.

"But I'm concerned dear, I want Paris to be the most beautiful city in the world. I don't want it heavily urbanized like the Vision of Paris."

Napoleon understood what she meant. Paris in the 21st century may be beautiful but it has less desirable things like heavy traffic, poor air quality, and lack of green space. To prevent that from happening, he prepared measures.

"Next year, according to the report," Napoleon answered.

"I can't wait," Ciela said.

"So am I. But do you know where I am most excited?" Napoleon grinned.

"Where?"

"Here."

Ciela's eyes sparkled with affection as Napoleon's hand gently caressed her baby bump.

"We are gonna need more as I'm turning France into an empire in the future," Napoleon said.

"Let me take a year break after this," Ciela said.

"Okay," Napoleon agreed. "Oh, about the children, their birthday is in a week. We should buy them gifts before we return to Versailles."

"Great idea."

***

Meanwhile, about thirty meters away from Napoleon and Ciela's carriage, a discreet stagecoach came to a halt, cleverly hidden from view. Inside, a woman in her mid-twenties, held a pair of theater binoculars to her eyes. She wasn't looking at the carriage itself but at its occupants, Napoleon and Ciela.

"There you are... sister," she whispered.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" One of the Consular Elite Guards approached the discreetly parked stagecoach. "Move along!"

The woman, still peering through her theater binoculars, simply prodded the ceiling, signaling the coachman to leave.

The stagecoach swiftly departed.