Chapter 1: The Wandering Eagle
On June 22, 1798, beneath a sky filled with countless stars, a great fleet sailed across the Mediterranean Sea, illuminated by moonlight, its pure white sails billowing with wind.
Massive ships of the line, built with the finest technology and bearing the fate and prestige of a nation, loomed like whales.
Small, agile brigs and sloops, serving as the fleetâs eyes and ears, darted about.
From warships to transport vessels, dozens of ships of all kinds filled the sea.
The flagship was called LâOrient.
Its name meant âthe East.â
It measured approximately sixty-five meters in length.
With three masts and one hundred eighteen cannons, it was less a ship and more a massive moving fortress.
It carried hundreds of sailors and enough supplies to rival a city, a monstrous vessel in every sense.
Among this enormous ship, there was one figure who appeared remarkably small.
That person sat slouched in a chair, boots still resting atop a desk made of the finest wood.
She had unkempt black hair like a rain-soaked stray dog and sharp, glinting bluish-gray eyes.
Her name was Napoleon Bonaparte.
She idly dangled the sleeves of her newly tailored military uniform and gazed out the window at the sea being cut apart by the fleetâs wake.
Her gaze was far too sharp for someone simply admiring the scenery.
“This feels like exile.”
Bonaparte muttered to herself with a gloomy smile.
Commander-in-chief of the French Republicâs Army of the Orient.
It sounded grand, commanding a force of about thirty-three thousand men, including fifteen infantry demi-brigades, seven cavalry regiments, twenty-eight artillery and engineer battalions, roughly a thousand non-combatants, and about one hundred fifty selected scholars.
But in reality, she had simply been sent away from France.
Bonaparte twisted her mouth in irritation.
She had fought for the revolution at Toulon.
She had defended the revolutionary government in Paris by firing cannons at the people.
She had led a ragged army with barely any proper shoes into Italy, crushed Franceâs enemies, and sent vast riches back to Paris.
And this was her reward.
Wherever she went, she had always been an outcast.
Even back in her birthplace, Corsica, it had been the same.
People whispered behind her back, calling her the child of a traitor who betrayed the islandâs hero of independence.
“That oneâs a Francophile, the child of a coward.”
When she left the island to study military science in France, she was told the opposite.
“You outsider from a remote island who canât even speak French properly, get out.”
There had never been a place for her.
She wanted power.
She wanted the strength to keep standing.
Driven by that desire, she had fought recklessly and achieved feats worthy of being called a hero by the people of France.
She thought that finally, she had found a place for herself.
But she had been completely wrong.
The leaders of the revolutionary government feared her overwhelming achievements.
“Is she planning to replace us, backed by her popularity among the people and the armyâŚ?”
Their contempt had merely turned into fear.
And so, they had decided to send her away under the guise of appointing her as commander of an honorable expedition.
Hoping, perhaps, that she would die in battle.
“How amusing.”
“If thatâs how it is, Iâll turn it to my advantage.”
“With this great army, I will achieve a grand conquest and build an unparalleled empire of my own!”
As Bonaparte surfaced from her thoughts, a devilish grin spread across her face.
“Commander Bonaparte! This is urgent! Please come to the deck at once!”
“Whoa!?”
A breathless officer burst into the room, startling Bonaparte so much that she slipped off her chair.
“You idiot! Knock before entering! What is it!?”
“My apologies! Admiral Brueys has an urgent report!”
“Then have the admiral come here. Why must I go?”
Bonaparte replied like a sulking child.
“He wishes for you to see the sky, sir. Please come!”
“The sky?”
Bonaparte frowned in suspicion but had no choice but to go.
When she stepped onto the deck of LâOrient, sailors were rushing about in a frenzy.
“Brueys! Report! What is it!?”
Bonaparte looked up at a man far taller than herself.
Admiral Brueys, the fleetâs commander, bowed slightly.
“Sir, please look at the stars.”
Bonaparte reluctantly raised her eyes to the sky.
“Itâs a beautiful night. As if the daytime fog was a lie. Whatâs the problem?”
“The positions of the stars are wrong. And look at the compass. The needle wonât settle and keeps spinning. We have lost our position.”
“Donât be ridiculous.”
Bonaparte stared at the compass handed to her.
The needle spun aimlessly, pointing neither north nor south.
“Can we still reach Egypt?”
“I do not know. We may not even be able to return to France.”
“What did you sayâŚ?”
“Regardless, we must land somewhere to resupply water and food. Without drinking water, we will all perish from thirst.”
“Hmm⌠it canât be helped. Very well, land somewhere.”
“Understood.”
“How did this even happenâŚ?”
Bonaparte ruffled her black hair roughly as she returned to the command room.
When she returned, a young man was waiting inside.
He had a somewhat androgynous face, still retaining a boyish innocence.
His name was Eugène.
He was the son of JosĂŠphine, whom Bonaparte had recently married, and currently served as her aide-de-camp.
“Welcome back, Father.”
“Eugène. What do you want?”
Bonaparte casually took off her coat and shoved it at him.
“It seems something serious has happened.”
“Eugène. Come here.”
“Yes.”
Bonaparte pulled him closer and pressed her head against his stomach.
“You smell just like your mother.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. By morning, the soldiers and generals will start making noise. I hope we find land soon.”
“Father.”
“What?”
“I still feel uncomfortable calling a woman âFather.â”
“Officially, I am a man. Donât argue.”
“Understood.”
Napoleon Bonaparte was a woman.
Only a few generals knew this secret.
The next morning, Bonaparte received good news from Eugène.
“Father, Admiral Brueys has sighted land.”
Bonaparte sipped her freshly brewed coffee, visibly pleased.
“Good. At least we wonât starve. It might even be Egypt. Eugène, gather the generals in the meeting room. Iâll be there in thirty minutes.”
“Understood.”
“That fool Brueys had me worrying for nothing.”
She muttered as she drank her coffee.
Thirty minutes later, the meeting room was filled with generals.
“Gentlemen, youâre all here.”
Bonaparte appeared, her oversized sleeves dangling.
Her uniform had been deliberately tailored larger because she insisted she still had room to grow.
But she had not grown, and now it looked ill-fitting.
“Admiral Brueys, you say there is land?”
“Yes. There is a suitable beach for landing. However, we do not know where we are. We may have drifted to Greece or Crete.”
“Our supplies of water and food are running low, and the soldiersâ health is declining. Whether this is Egypt or not, we will land and resupply. We land in one hour. I will command personally. Prepare yourselves.”
A collective sigh of relief spread among the generals.
One of them stood.
“Will you lead the landing yourself, sir? It may be dangerous without knowing the situation.”
“Desaix, precisely because we donât know, I must see it myself. Murat, Lannes, Bessières, you will act as my guard. Admiral Brueys, command the fleet in my absence.”
“Understood.”
Thus, ten thousand soldiers landed on the sandy shore.
The wide beach welcomed them, and many kissed the ground in joy.
Bonaparte was among them.
“Damn it⌠water got into my boots.”
She cursed, annoyed at her brand-new boots.
“Sir, all units have landed safely. No casualties.”
Chief of staff Berthier reported.
“Good. Send out scouts. Letâs determine where we are.”
“About that⌠look over there.”
Berthier pointed.
On a hill ahead, several figures could be seen watching them.
“Locals, perhaps. Letâs ask them.”
Bonaparte called out loudly.
“We are the French army! We come to bring you liberty and equality! We have questions!”
âWithin limits I permit,â she added silently.
The figures responded, but their language was completely unfamiliar.
“What are they saying?”
“I donât know. Itâs not French.”
“Bring the interpreters and merchants. Say anythingâFrance, army, friend, question!”
“This is troublesome⌔
After an hour of futile shouting, more French soldiers arrived, filling the beach.
Meanwhile, the figures on the hill increased from dozens to hundreds.
“Shall we drive them off?”
“No unnecessary conflict.”
Bonaparte observed through a telescope.
They appeared to be lightly armed civilians rather than soldiers.
“What should we do⌔
Suddenly, a few figures stepped forward.
“Theyâre coming.”
“Wait. Theyâre unarmed.”
“âŚWait, thatâs a woman. And sheâs beautiful!”
“A beautiful woman? What use is thatâŚ?”
Bonaparte muttered.
The woman approached.
She had long golden hair and blazing red eyes, a stark contrast to Bonaparteâs disheveled appearance.
She was also much taller.
“Do you understand me?”
There was no reply.
Instead, the woman reached out and took Bonaparteâs hand.
“What!?”
At that moment, a voice echoed inside her mind.
“I am Krumil. Who are you?”
“What is this? What are you doing to me?”
“I am asking you.”
“I am Napoleon Bonaparte. Where is this? Greece? Africa?”
“This is the land of the people I rule, the proud Country of Kusanaga.”
“Iâve never heard of it. I come from France.”
“What is France?”
Bonaparte froze.
“This is⌠beyond understanding⌔
Krumil tightened her grip.
“Napoleon Bonaparte, will you lend me your strength? If you do, I will give you whatever you desire.”
“In summary⌔
Berthier spoke grimly.
“This is an unknown land. No one knows it. They call it the Country of Kusanaga.”
“Itâs like another world,” Murat muttered.
“Krumil claims to be its queen. She has been defeated in war and driven from her capital. She asks for our help in reclaiming her kingdom in exchange for supplies.”
“Then we have no choice,” Bonaparte said sharply.
“We need water within three days. To survive, we will cooperate with themâfor now.”
She pulled her bicorne hat low and stepped out to inspect the troops.