With the arrival of spring, Fontainebleau, far from Paris, is once again the most magnificent time of the year.

Looking into the distance, the verdant forest stretches like the sea, these lush trees isolate the hustle and bustle of the outside world, wash the breeze through the trees, make the air fresh and pleasant, the sun is like a wisp of light veil, through the layers of branches and leaves sprinkled to every corner of the earth, the flowers blooming in the garden, under the breeze, exude an intoxicating fragrance.

The castle hidden in the woods stands quietly on the earth, the flowers in the garden decorate it, and the Seine River flows quietly next to it takes away all the glitz and glamour of the world, and the palace of Fontainebleau in spring is so quiet and beautiful that it is worthy of the love of the supreme rulers of France.

However, unlike the tranquility of the appearance, inside the hall of the palace castle, a large group of people gathered at this time, and this group of people greeted each other and whispered.

This group of people, all dressed in military uniforms, like the extravagant imperial royals, their whole bodies were covered with ornaments, golden tassels on their epaulettes, ribbons and medals pinned to their chests, and under the brilliant lights, these medals of various forms exuded a jeweled atmosphere, and only by the blood and tears of countless people could these dazzling ornaments be piled up to show off their great martial prowess.

They are all generals of the imperial army, most of them are in important positions, they are the main backbone of the huge war machine of the French Empire, and they are also the greatest reliance of the emperor to defend the territory and his throne.

The dazzling throne was set up by the fireplace, one step higher, and the generals talked to each other with smiles on their faces, and it was not until the chamberlain of the court entered through the door next to them that they stopped, lined up respectfully according to rank and seniority, and then stood in place, like ordinary soldiers on parade.

"His Majesty Emperor Napoleon II, Monarch of the French, Guardian of Rome and the humblest servant of God, arrives!" In the silence, the attendant shouted loudly.

Then, the side door opened again, and a middle-aged man in a gown and a crown walked in slowly, and then sat on the throne under the gaze of everyone.

He looked to be in his thirties, with well-groomed gray hair, with sharp features, but lacking angularity and oppression, fair skin and a tall nose, coupled with a calm demeanor, made him look quite elegant, but lacking majestic oppression, and his eyes did not have much figure, like a small civil servant in the office dealing with his own errands.

There was not much majesty in this emaciated face, but the gently pursed lips and a nonchalant smile made him look a little melancholy and self-deprecating.

Without the crown, uniform, and medals, it would be difficult for anyone to believe that he was the only son and successor of the demigod, and that he was a poet would be approved by others.

But, in any case, he is the former King of Rome, the current Emperor of the French Empire, the ruler of this empire, the man whom the generals swore to be loyal to him at all times, the political and military machinery of the whole empire revolves around him, and the fate of the people of this country, everyone's destiny is clearly linked to his will.

After he sat down, the group of ambitious and murderous generals bent down one after another, succumbing to the supreme imperial power.

"Long live His Majesty the Emperor!" A violent roar echoed through the wide hall.

His Majesty enjoyed the tsunami of salutes quietly until a moment later he rose from his seat, and the cheers came to an end.

He walked slowly down the steps, and then walked up to Count Fernand de Marsève, who stood in the middle of the group, who was one of the protagonists of this ceremony today.

In order to commend the generals of the expeditionary force who helped the government of the Kingdom of Spain to suppress the rebellion and triumph, His Majesty the Emperor himself presided over a ceremony today to award the honors to these generals, and the first to bear the brunt of the expeditionary force was Marshal Marsève, commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force.

The marshal was not yet fifty years old at this time, but he had already made great achievements for the Empire, and in the years of endless warfare decades ago, although he appeared late, he finally rose to the top with a glorious trajectory, and finally became a dazzling superstar, becoming the new idol of the Imperial army.

In the chaotic year of 1815, the Emperor Napoleon landed in France from Elba and miraculously overthrew the restored Bourbons and rebuilt the empire, while the great powers, which were haggling in Vienna, hurriedly assembled an alliance to try to kill the empire.

At this critical juncture, His Majesty the Emperor assembled his army to meet the battle, and brought his army all the way to Belgium, where he prepared to break the assembled coalition forces.

After a series of short battles, two large armies converged on Waterloo for a fateful decisive battle.

The brave armies fought each other, the two armies were in a state of scorching, a great deal of life was lost in the roar of guns, blood was shed all over the land, and the sight of tragedy would make even a veteran of a hundred battles shudder.

In the repeated tug-of-war and fighting, the two armies were exhausted, the French army's tidal offensive began to exhaust, and the Anglo-Dutch army had only its last breath.

At this moment, as if called by God, the army under the command of Marshal Grouchy rushed to the battlefield, and this new weight quickly tilted the scales of the goddess of victory in favor of the French Empire.

Major Fernand-Marsev, who was a cavalry officer, was in the vanguard of the marshal, and when they arrived at the battlefield, they did not hesitate to launch a final assault on the exhausted Anglo-Dutch army.

The newly arrived army broke the will of the coalition army, which was already at the end of its power, and a large number of troops began to break and flee, and the soldiers fled backwards in desperation, no matter how hoarse the officers shouted. In the midst of the terrible chaos, he and his men disrupted the British headquarters, killing the commander of the Anglo-Dutch army, Field Marshal Arthur Wellesley.

With the collapse of the Anglo-Dutch alliance, the Emperor won the crucial Battle of Waterloo, and the entire empire was saved from precariousness.

After the death of his fateful enemy, the Emperor of God's favor regained his former genius and luck, and in the next few battles, he repeatedly defeated the anti-French coalition forces, and finally exhausted these hostile powers again.

In another round of bloody fighting, the young people of Europe once again stained the battlefield with blood, and finally, the countries that had no intention of fighting finally signed a compromise agreement, France gave up the territory it had expanded and returned to the borders of 1792, and the countries finally re-recognized the Bonaparte dynasty, and the French Empire was finally preserved in fire and blood.

From the glorious Austerlitz, to the painful Leipzig, and finally to the glorious Waterloo, the fate is so unpredictable!

After that, Malsev was duly rewarded by His Majesty the Emperor, his rank soared like a rocket, and he became a member of the imperial nobility, being made a count.

In 1821, the Emperor returned to the arms of God in glory, and his successor, the then 10-year-old King of Rome, became the new Emperor of the Empire, and the Count of Malsev was still trusted and reused, and was finally made a marshal, becoming one of the most famous and powerful pillars of the army.

In order to make up for his fatal mistakes, the emperor reaffirmed the rule of the Bourbons over Spain during his lifetime, and said that France would do everything in its power to maintain its rule in Spain, and the two countries were reconciled - in order to show this determination, he even agreed to marry his son to the Spanish royal family, making the Bourbon princess the next queen of the empire.

Under this relationship, maintaining the rule of the Bourbon royal family in Spain became the national policy of the empire, so when the Spanish royal family was in trouble due to revolution or riots, the empire did not hesitate to come to the rescue, and the Count of Morseff led the latest army.

With the successful conclusion of this quelling of the rebellion and the triumphant return of the expeditionary force, it is natural that the reward for meritorious deeds is also the proper meaning of the question.

Under the eager and jealous gaze of the generals, His Majesty the Emperor, dressed in a ceremonial robe, walked slowly in front of Count Morsev, and then looked at his favorite general.

"Good work." After staring at him for a moment, His Majesty the Emperor nodded, and in his characteristic soft tone of voice softly commended the marshal.

Then, he picked up a large medal that radiated brilliance from the velvet tray in the hands of the court attendants next to him, and slowly handed it to the marshal's chest.

In the focus of countless eyes, His Majesty's white and slender fingers swayed slightly, and finally pinned the medal to the red ribbon on the marshal's chest.

"Long live the Empire! Long live His Majesty the Emperor! ”

At this moment, the hall erupted in deafening cheers, and many generals raised their hands to express their excitement in this way.

"Congratulations, Your Excellency." In the midst of the uproar, His Majesty gently patted the marshal on the shoulder, "I hope you can continue to work hard, continue to create new achievements, and become an example for the imperial soldiers." ”

"Your Majesty, I will dedicate all my blood to you, loyalty is my only creed!" The marshal stood up straight and gave a military salute to His Majesty, "As long as there is a breath left, I will fight for you bloodily, and wherever Your Majesty points to, we will fight!" ”

"Good." His Majesty the Emperor smiled gently, then patted the marshal on the shoulder, "I will repay this loyalty." ”

…………………………

As His Majesty presented medals to the officers, this grand ceremony also came to an end, and the generals who participated in the ceremony also began to come to the lounge to drink coffee and chat.

And in the depths of the rest room, several old men in grand dresses and holding the marshal's scepter gathered around a coffee table, they can be said to be the brightest stars of today's ceremony.

Sitting by the fireplace was a gray-haired old man, whose face was wrinkled, but he could still see the handsomeness of his youth from the edges and corners, his face was full of smiles, full of affinity, and he wore a large gemstone ring on his hand, which further highlighted the owner's vain character.

He was Prince Murat, one of the first marshals of the Empire, brother-in-law of Emperor Napoleon, and former King of Naples.

Although he is now retired, this prince has made too brilliant and dazzling achievements in his former military career, and after the baptism of the years, he has become a living demigod, and his heroic deeds have become texts in the imperial textbooks, enjoying the respect of everyone, and there are countless people in the army who have been supported by him, it can be said that he is the most prestigious veteran of the imperial army, and even more respected by the soldiers than His Majesty the Emperor himself.

And sitting on his left hand side was Field Marshal Sirte, now Minister of War.

As a veteran of the empire, also from the Napoleonic era, the marshal also possessed the respect and prestige of the army, as well as his political and organizational skills.

After the death of Emperor Napoleon, his heir was so young that he appointed his Empress Louise as regent, and Marshal Soirte was one of the people he appointed to be in charge of Her Majesty. The Empress Dowager has always used him to command the army, and it was he who helped the empire survive the chaos of His Majesty's death.

After His Majesty Emperor Napoleon II came to power, in order to take advantage of his prestige, His Majesty still reused him and appointed him Minister of War.

And on the other side of the prince, seated was Marshal Victor de Treville.

Although he is also a veteran general of that era, compared with the brilliant achievements of the previous two marshals, this marshal is much bleaker. He was born into an aristocratic exile, and only returned to France in 1804 to serve His Majesty the Emperor, and after a baptism of war, he finally became a general and accompanied His Majesty the Emperor on an expedition to Russia.

After the failure of this unfortunate expedition, the empire was destroyed for a time, but the general did not abandon His Majesty, and eventually joined the restored imperial army, and he also made meritorious contributions in the wars and became the marshal of the empire.

Because his seniority was not as good as that of the marshals of the older generation, his influence in the army was much smaller, but perhaps because he came from a famous family of old nobles, he was very valued by two generations of Bonaparte emperors, and now this marshal held the position of chief military attaché to His Majesty's attendants, and was regarded as one of His Majesty's main military advisers.

The three marshals gathered next to a coffee table, and this luxurious lineup of course caused the tremors of the others, and everyone sat far away, for fear of disturbing the marshals' conversation.

However, the three marshals were not so nervous, and they all had smiles on their faces, although these smiles were a bit formulaic and did not feel much warmth, but at least on the surface they were happy.

"Today, that Morsev kid is proud." Prince Murat casually rubbed the gemstone ring in his hand and looked at the other two with a smile, "You see how happy he is smiling!" ”

"A general who has won a battle is always entitled to be happy." Marshal Trevier replied with a smile, then picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee.

"Hmph, it's just a bunch of mobs, what kind of battle is that!" The prince turned his face away, seeming to be a little disdainful, and then his gaze was placed in front of Marshal Sirte, who had been thoughtful, "You fought in Spain back then. ”

The War Secretary's face twitched, but he did not speak.

"It's really embarrassing to think about...... the elderly prince sighed exaggeratedly, "Niklas, you fought hard to live and die in Spain back then, but Your Majesty didn't thank you, but now a kid who only won the guerrillas and the mob, but was greatly rewarded by His Majesty's son, it's really not worth it......

Marshal Soul's face darkened for a moment.

"Your Majesty still values me very much." It was as if he was explaining it to himself.

"It used to be, but it may not be in the future." The prince shook his head, as if he was a little disapproving, "I heard that His Majesty intends to let this kid be the Minister of War, so that you can go home and retire comfortably......"

The War Secretary's face became more and more ugly, and the hand holding the coffee cup twitched slightly, almost spilling the coffee.

"His Majesty has the right to appoint any minister he likes." After a moment, the marshal replied in a low voice, but it was not known how much of it was insincere.

"If it were you, I wouldn't say that." The prince shook his head, as if he was a little dissatisfied with Soul's reaction, "What is there like yours about that kid?" Without His Majesty's support, he is nothing, but unfortunately he does, so he and his gang of bastards can gear up and think about replacing you, I am already retired, and it doesn't matter if I am unofficial, but I feel a little sorry for you...... worked hard to shed blood for the empire, but in the end it will fall into this world. ”

His Royal Highness's words made the other two marshals even more gloomy.

Although I knew that he was obviously provoking, there was also a part of what he said after all.

Yes, the superstars of the Napoleonic era are so dazzling that even His Majesty's light is sometimes overshadowed.

His Majesty the Emperor, who is gradually growing up and pro-government, can of course feel the dazzling part of this light, so he is close to those cutting-edge young generals

His Majesty lavishly praised and promoted these new generals, and in the eyes of many well-intentioned people, we can see the trend of the young Zhuang faction replacing the old faction.

Today's award of the Count of Morseff is only a small testimony to this trend.

Replacing the old with the new is an inevitable law of history, but how many of those "old people" are willing to be replaced like this?

How many people who have held power for so many years are willing to be abandoned by power?

"Our Majesty is a poet." After a long period of oppressive gloom, the Minister of War said gloomily. "The poet's thoughts are unpredictable, and we, as subjects, can only bow down and obey, that's all."