Chapter 372 Reporting back to Versailles
Chapter 372 Reporting back to Versailles
August 25th, 1821.
At eight in the morning, Francis Bonaparte was aboard a flight to Paris.
From his vantage point by the window, the expanse of the city unfolded beneath him. The view highlighted Paris’s architectural style, with its network of roads, alleys, and broad avenues intersecting among iconic Napoleonic buildings.
At night, the scene would be animated by the glow of streetlights, the movement of vehicles, and the lit interiors of buildings. Now, under the soft morning light, the city looked different—more subdued and functional, less about the grandeur of its illumination and more about the day-to-day life of its inhabitants as they commenced their routines.
As he was looking down below from the window, Francis noticed blimps hovering above the city. It’s one of the go-to places for tourists visiting Paris. People say that Paris is beautiful when seen above. And those blimps, like aircraft, can transport people from one point to another.
The plane started its descent, the details on the ground becoming sharper as they approached Orly Airport. Francis’s thoughts shifted from the scenery to the day’s agenda.
It has been confirmed that the vaccine worked in some individuals. So the only thing the government would do is to ensure the mass production of the vaccine and have it injected into the population.
As Orly Airport came into view, the plane’s engines hummed a steady descent, cutting through the morning air.
Landing smoothly on the tarmac, the plane taxied to the terminal. Francis gathered his briefcase, which contained all the necessary documentation. He stood up from his seat and headed over to the exit, stepping out into the brisk morning air of Paris.
The first thing he did when setting foot again in Paris was he breathed in the fresh air.
“It’s good to be back,” Francis commented before putting on his facemask. He had been in a place where the influenza virus was rampant. He doesn’t want Paris to be the next hotspot.
Francis moved through the terminal and went through sanitation protocols, which included passing through a disinfection mist that resembled white smoke, designed to neutralize pathogens. Francis briskly walked through the misting station and there he was blown with white smoke.
After that, he made his way towards the exit, and in front of the exit was a royal convoy awaiting him. The convoy, a line of black vehicles with the imperial crest, was hard to miss. Francis navigated through the last of the airport’s internal security checks and approached the lead car where his personal aide was waiting.
“Everything is prepared for your return to the Palace of Versailles today, Your Imperial Highness,” the aide said, opening the car door for him.
Francis nodded, stepping into the vehicle without further comment. The door closed behind him, and as the convoy pulled away from the curb, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The ride to the Palace of Versailles would take some time, and he intended to use it to mentally prepare for the tasks ahead. The discussions would be extensive and detailed as it was his father preferred, covering everything from vaccine deployment strategies to managing public expectation and response.
Thirty minutes later, Francis arrived at the Palace of Versailles.
Stepping out of the car, he was met by a small contingent of palace staff bowing with Armand in the center.
“Welcome back, Your Imperial Highness, to the Palace of Versailles. Your father is ready to receive you—”
“Brother!”
A shout from a woman interrupted Armand. Francis quickly recognized the voice, it was from his little sister, Daphne.
He glanced behind Armand and his entourage and saw Daphne running toward him, her face bright with excitement. He braced himself just in time as she reached him and threw her arms around his neck in an affectionate if slightly improper, hug for such a public reunion.
“Careful, Daphne,” Francis chided gently, but the smile on his face was indulgent. “I just left Toulouse, you know I could be bringing a virus and infecting you…”
“That won’t happen, because I know that you will make sure that it won’t happen,” Daphne shook her head, sniffing his clothes. “I can still smell the disinfectant clinging to your coat, so I don’t think there would be a living virus on you,” She stepped back, giving him a knowing look, trusting in the science that Francis himself had been overseeing.
Francis stroked her strawberry-blonde hair affectionately, and Daphne smiled brightly up at him. “Yes, the disinfectant does tend to linger,” he admitted. “But let’s not test our luck, shall we? Anyways, where is Tristan and Aveline? Or better, where is mother?”
“Those names you mentioned are not present in the Palace of Versailles at the moment,” Daphne answered. “Brother Tristan and sister Aveline are managing their state affairs in their respective embassies. As for Mother, she’s in a business meeting with the industrialist at the company headquarters… Only Father is present inside. Ahh…I envy them because they have roles and responsibilities and I don’t.”
Francis chuckled softly as he looked at his cute little sister pouting. “But didn’t father already give you a domain to rule? I believe it’s Canada.”
“That’s true…but I’m not in Canada yet, so…” Daphne trailed off.
“Well, you’ll get there soon enough,” Francis reassured her. “Who knows, when I return to New France, we’ll be neighbors and we can visit one another in respective domains. Just wait for it, you’ll have your time. Okay?”
“Okay,” Daphne said. “I missed you brother, and to be honest I was scared that something might happen to you while you are in Toulouse. Like you could get caught with a virus—”
Armand, with a discreet cough, stepped forward. “I apologize for the rudeness of interrupting the Imperial Highnesses,” he said, bowing his head slightly, “but your father has a very strict schedule for today, and unfortunately, we can’t afford a delay.”
Francis flickered his gaze to Armand and gave him a nod. “We’ll talk more later, Daphne.”
“Okay brother, I’ll stay in my room,” Daphne responded, a touch of reluctance in her voice. She gave him another quick hug before turning away, her footsteps echoing softly as she withdrew.
Francis followed Armand, who led the way. They traversed the ornate hallways of the palace, their pace businesslike.
Reaching the heavy double doors of the Emperor’s office, Armand opened them without ceremony, and Francis stepped inside and saw His father standing by the window, his back to the door, but he turned as Francis entered.
“Father,” Francis greeted with a bow.
“Take a seat, Francis,” Napoleon gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “We have a lot of things to talk about today.”
“Understood, Father,” Francis said, raising his head.
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