Reincarnated as Napoleon



An hour later, on the French Flagship, Orient, Napoleon was led by the Elite Consular Guards to the brig, where they were holding the young man who had attempted an attack on him.

"Your Excellency, do you really need to speak with that man?" Berthier inquired, confusion evident in his tone. 

Since that time when the young man attacked Napoleon, he wondered why he chose to detain him rather than kill him on the spot. 

"I don't want to repeat myself, Berthier," Napoleon responded without hesitation.

As they approached the brig, the confined space became more apparent. It was dimly lit, with a faint, musty odor hanging in the air. The young man, Samuel, sat on a simple bunk, looking somewhat disheveled, and his hands were securely bound.

Napoleon entered the brig with Berthier and the Elite Consular Guards in tow. Samuel's eyes widened as he saw the French leader approaching. 

"I'll take it from here, gentlemen. You can wait for me outside," Napoleon glanced at his Elite Consular Guards.

"But Your Excellency, it's dangerous to leave you alone with an assailant," one of the Elite Consular Guards voiced out his concern. 

"Do you honestly think that a young man bound by chains is a threat to me now?" Napoleon replied with a touch of humor, trying to ease the tension in the room.

The guards exchanged glances but ultimately nodded and left the brig, closing the heavy door behind them. Napoleon and Berthier were now alone with Samuel.

"So, now that they are gone we can begin our conversation. Starting from your full name," Napoleon said. 

"Answer the question!" Berthier interjected with a note of impatience. 

"Berthier, I'll do the talking okay? You don't interfere with me like that," Napoleon chided. 

"Apologies, First Consul." 

"So, what is your full name?" Napoleon flickered his gaze back at Samuel. 

Samuel hesitated for a moment, then replied, "My name is Samuel Turner."

"And what do you do?" Napoleon asked.

"I'm a student," Samuel answered.

"How old are you?" 

"I'm eighteen years old."

"What did you intend to do with the knife?" 

"To kill you," Samuel replied without hesitation. 

After hearing that answer, Berthier couldn't control himself and blurted out, "Your Excellency, perhaps we should reconsider our approach here. This young man openly admits his intention to harm you."

Napoleon raised a hand to silence Berthier, his gaze remaining fixed on Samuel. "I appreciate your honesty, Samuel Turner, but I must ask you a more important question: Why did you feel compelled to take such a drastic and violent step?"

"Because you have caused the misfortunes of my country. You have done harm to me as well as to all British people."

"By whom were you sent? Who instigated you to commit this crime? Is it one of the British officials? The Prime Minister?" 

"Nobody. I am determined to take your life from the conviction that I should thereby render the highest service to my country and to Europe."

"I shall tell you, you are either mad or sick for thinking that I'm the cause of your suffering." 

"Neither the one nor the other."

"You are a wild enthusiast," Napoleon said and continued. "You will ruin your family. I am willing to grant your life if you ask pardon for the crime which you intended to commit, and for which you ought to be sorry—"

"I want no pardon," Samuel said resolutely. "I feel the deepest regret for not having executed my design."

"'You seem to think very lightly of the commission of a crime," Napoleon sternly said.

"To kill you would not have been a crime but a duty," Samuel replied. 

"So you are saying, you would not be grateful were I to pardon you?" 

"I would notwithstanding seize the first opportunity of taking your life," Samuel declared. "So I suggest that you kill me, First Consul. Because if you don't, I will find a way to achieve my duty."

"So you really intend to kill me huh? That was scary," Napoleon scoffed softly. "Since you have shown no remorse for your crime, I will have to order your execution. What a shame, you are a smart man, but not smart enough to figure out that it was your country that brought suffering to its people. I gave the British the chance to surrender but they made it hard for me, so I'll make it hard for them." 

Upon saying that, Napoleon left the brig. Berthier followed him out, leaving Samuel Turner alone in the dimly lit brig. The heavy door clanked shut behind them, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

"Keep an eye on that boy," Napoleon said to the Elite Consular Guard. "In two hours, you execute and throw his body to the sea." 

"Understood, First Consul," the Elite Consular Guard replied with a salute.

Napoleon and Berthier made their way back to the upper deck of the flagship, the weight of the encounter with Samuel Turner hanging over them. 

"I have never encountered such a man in my life who would stare at me with such unwavering determination to take my life," Napoleon said to Berthier as they stood on the deck, gazing out at the sea. 

"But you were right, Your Excellency," Berthier faced Napoleon. "It was the British fault for the people or suffering." 

"Not to that man," Napoleon replied. "To him we are monsters. In the future, many people from around the world will view us like that. This is going to be the hardest next step France is going to take Berthier." 

***

Two hours later, at the upper deck of the Orient. Napoleon watched as Samuel was being led to a portside railing. The Elite Consular Guards took their position two meters in front of Samuel. They loaded one round at their bolt-action rifle and aimed it at Samuel. 

"Do you have any last word, Samuel?" Berthier asked.

"Long live Great Britain! Death to Napoleon!" 

The wind carried Samuel's defiant words across the deck of the French flagship as he stood resolute, facing his impending execution.

Berthier gave a nod to the Elite Consular Guards, signaling them to proceed. The guards, their faces betraying no emotion, squeezed their triggers simultaneously. The rifles barked, and the sound echoed across the ship.

Samuel Turner fell backward, his life extinguished by the volley of bullets. His body tumbled over the railing and into the dark waters of the English Channel below, disappearing beneath the waves.

Two hours later, the Orient was approaching Cherbourg port. From the railings, Napoleon saw a crowd of French onlookers gathering to witness the arrival of their leader and his victorious fleet. Banners bearing the French tricolor fluttered in the breeze, and cheers erupted from the crowd as the flagship approached. 

Now it's time for celebration.