La Chanson de la Victoire (The Song of Victory): La Petite Arpenteuse (Non, SV, you are a General of France in the Napoleonic War!)

Following an omake prompt from @Magoose, I present to you:

Storytime With Papa Severin

It was a cool October afternoon in Toulon as Matteo Anselme Severin sat with his grandson and his king. Well, no longer a king. Matteo knew of few royals who would give up their hereditary rule and join the army at eight years of age. This Louis must be one of the good ones. If only his son Louis Marceau had such a good head on his shoulders. Ah, but he was slipping in his old age. The boys had just finished their daily training, now bathed and clean after a route march. It really took him back, that long march from Rhode Island to Yorktown. Denis Martin had been so young back then, not yet old enough to enlist, but Matteo had managed to get him into the regiment as a drummer.

"Grandpere! Hey, did you hear me?"

"Ah, apologies Charles Leon, I was just reminded of something that happened a long while ago."

"Oh, oh, is it one of your stories? You tell the best stories, grandpere, even the ones where France doesn't win are interesting!"

"Charles, Sergeant Severin is an old soldier, they always have the best stories. Though, I've never heard him tell one, and Therese mentioned that the Severin family had a great many war stories."

"Well, Louis Charles, I do have a story for you today. It actually occurred this time of the year a bit more than a decade ago...

6 October, 1781

It was a dark and stormy night as Sergeant Matteo Anselme Severin led his boys to their assigned position in the line. Were it not for the heavy clouds, the light of the waning full moon would have left them completely exposed to the British artillery. A fact Matteo gave his thanks to God and the Generals for. His company was at the head of Regiment Touraine, and they would be digging the first parallel of the siege works, as the British had withdrawn to consolidate their forces. Regiment Touraine was on the French left, With Regiment Gatenois anchoring the line on the river. Since it was the Americans' war for independence, they were given the honor of holding the right, quite a generous gesture from the Comte de Rochambeau, a man with four decades in the army. The dim glow of a shrouded lantern drew Matteo's eye. It rested on the ground, illuminating a kneeling figure laying out a plank of sodden wood on the sandy soil.

"Ho there, you are from Regiment Touraine?"

"Aye, stranger, Sergeant Severin of first company, Regiment Touraine."

"I see, I see. Hmm, you seem rather tall Sergeant, would you happen to be the tallest many in your regiment?"

"Not quite, monsieur, but the difference is of less than an inch."

"Hmm... quite a tall fellow, but it should be within the specifications. Well, as you can see here Sergeant Severin, I and my sappers have laid out two rows of planks. Dig your trenches between them, it should be tight, but barely wide enough for two men to pass side by side. I would recommend you dig the rear side somewhat deeper for better drainage. The soil is quite sandy, but better to take precautions than sit in a flooded ditch for several days, wouldn't you say?"

"Aye, wouldn't want that. The air has been swarming enough with mosquitos, wouldn't want their offspring nibbling at us in a puddle too. Is this to be our position for the parallel? It seems a bit close, from the sound of the guns, and I saw how effective Bretagne artillery is from the campaign in Hanover during the last war."

"Not to worry Sergeant, I've done the surveying here myself. I will guarantee that you and your men won't have a thing to worry about from the British guns."

"You seem awfully confident about that. I hope you understand my doubts."

"Yes, yes, I'm from a long line of surveyors, and I've been training my son, Brian as well."

"I'd best see to my men, get them to work. By the way, I never caught your name."

"Ah, how rude of me. My name is Astor..."

7 October, 1781

The trench was dug through the night, and on the morning, the men were sluggish and slow to rise. That was fine with Matteo, they had worked long through the dark, and there was more than one instance of men getting showered with shovelfuls of sandy mud. Poor Denis Martin caught one right to the face, and he had complained how the sand had gotten everywhere. Son or not, complainers got more work. He would learn how life in the army worked soon enough. The booming of British cannon interrupted Matteo's morning musings. It seems their work had not gone unnoticed.

"Up, boys, up! Into the trench, get to cover!"

Matteo could see the smoke clouds from the cannons along the British line, now to see where they fall. An instant later, a cannonball struck the earth in front of their trench and skipped up. Matteo winced, ducking down, anticipating the screams of wounded. Screams that never came. Instead, the ball whistled clear above their heads, and Matteo could have sworn that even if he had been standing, the ball wouldn't have grazed his hat.

As the barrage continued through the day, the men of the first company of Regiment Touraine watched with wonderment as cannonballs fired at them skipped off the ground and flew clear over their heads. Some idiot had to be restrained from trying to reach out and touch one, but soldats are recruited for their strength, not their smarts.

"Praise the Lord, that mad wizard did it! If I ever meet that surveyor again, I'll shake his hand so hard his arm will come off!"

"Father, who are you talking about?"

"Denis Martin, my son, that surveyor with the sappers did some sort of arcane arithmetic and handed us a position that is all but impervious to cannon! That madlad's name is Astor Auclair!"

7 October, 1794

"Astor-"

"-Auclair?"

"A surveyor?"

"And a son named Brian?"

"Hey, Louis, isn't that-"

"Therese's older brother is named Brian."

"That's right, lads, Astor had mentioned he had a daughter as well. I'm quite certain Astor was your General's father. Denis Martin also mentioned how La Petit Arpenteuse had done some remarkable surveying at Mayence and built a superbly defensible position that those damnable Prussians broke themselves trying to capture."

"Holy poop, Louis, you gotta tell her that story, she won't believe it!"

"Sergeant Severin, did the Colonel know about this?"

"He heard about Astor from me, at the time he was a bit preoccupied getting showered with mud and getting sand everywhere. As for when he met your guardian, he suspected, but he kept it to himself until I visited him at Metz. Her name and reputation as a surveyor kept him more open-minded about her capability as an officer. He knows well enough that women can be eminently capable. He did marry one such example, after all!"

"Oh yeah, mama's a badass! When we went hunting, she popped a deer's head with her rifle at over a hundred paces! She was like, "You're already dead!" and pulled the trigger, and bang!"

"Sir, didn't the Colonel and his wife meet at Yorktown? I remember Charles mentioned it once, as did the Colonel."

"Aye, lad. Denis Martin was mighty confused when he ended up wrestling with a 'boy' from the Virginia militia over some argument, only to find out it wasn't a boy at all! That dazed look combined with that black eye he sported was hilarious! Well, it was until we all came down with malaria. It turns out you only get sick a month after you get bitten the first time, who knew?"

Louis seemed deep in thought, from what Matteo could see. He had likely figured that, small as he is, he couldn't put up much of a fight in melee. But gunpowder makes all men equal, and if he learned from an expert marksman... markswoman... Then he might be able to make a difference on his own.

"Charles, can you introduce me to your mother? I'd do pretty much anything to be able to shoot half as well as she can."

-------------------------

9.2 The Last of Peace; Le dernier de la paix







"Serre, what did you do?" You said.

"Held up my end of the Bargain." He replied with a glance. You almost wished you could strangle the man for his sheer insolence, and disrespect he was showing you. He was as calm as a sea captain could be in the face of such…

Drastic and damming treason. "You allowed him to escape, unmolested back to the Ottoman Empire. Do you have any idea how much that could compromise this entire invasion?"

"Yes." He replied without skipping a beat.

"And you still let him go?" You asked.

"I trust the man's self-interest. He wants someone to die for the ambitions that aren't himself." He replied with a knowing glance at the sea. "We can use that?"

You felt a pang of confusion. "Tell me then… why shouldn't I send you to the Guillotine then?"

"Because he left you this." He replied, handing over a letter. It was opened. "I took the liberty of reading and translating it for you."

You Took the Letter, and read it.






Reward: Parsha has escaped, and is gathering an army of allies to march down to Egypt to assist your invasion.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You still wish to protect the man?" The Amril stated as you stood at attention, though far more relaxed than you needed to be. "He has committed treason, and allowed that infidel to get away, without your permission."

"Indeed, but I agreed with his ideas." You stated. "And I believe the gambler in him is right about human nature."

The Amril sighed. "I have half a mind to report you for treason as well, force you to resign your commission in shame." Then his smile rose, as he laughed. "But Adam Serre is a man anyone with half a mind would understand that he never does anything unless he can profit from it. I should know. Despite his radical thoughts on certain institutions."

"Then I take it this little problem has been swept under the rug?" You asked.

The Amril nodded. "Yes. As long as he can inform me, or you, of what he plans to do."

Reward: Adam Serre is safe from criminal prosecution and court-martial… though he might get a slap on the wrist when he gets home.

Adam is… very happy that he won't be hanged.
-------------------------------------------------------------






De Lisle came riding in with a few dragoons from Paris, the mission to retrieve the entire collection of the Sicilian maps in the French Archives were…

Well, you didn't know if it was successful, not yet at least.

The chief of staff dismounted and greeted you with a smile on his face. "I can safely say we were not followed, but they did notice our… escapade of retrieving the maps?"

"Will this escapade be useful for our objective of removing Sicily from the board?" You asked.

"Well, I might lose rank for this." De Lisle replied. "You know, I thought I would be retiring from the army when the war was over, not stealing a map for a campaign across the Mediterranean, along with being the chief of staff for one of the French Armies. Probably be an artist again and publish a few of my songs?"

"What changed your mind?" You asked.

"You paid more… and well, I can safely say that one more adventure won't kill me." He smiled. "Might give me some inspiration. Plus, someone has to keep Severin alive so he doesn't do anything stupid like charging into a city under heavy fire without artillery support."

You smiled as well. "Dismissed."

Reward: You have gained an entire collection of accurate maps of Sicily and Naples.

+30 to surveying rolls for three battles. +10 to all army rolls for two turns while in Sicily.

New Action Available.

--------------------------------------------------------------






Davout, Chamans, and Severin all stood at attention as you gave them their new orders. "Gentlemen, I am very pleased with the progress that you have made in preparing the army for it's campaign to Sicily and Egypt. The preparations we have made will assure our victory."

"Thank you Generle." Davout stated, standing straighter than the other two men, who, while standing at attention, was far more relaxed than their newer, higher ranking counterpart.

"Good. You are dismissed." You replied.

Reward: Davout Commands Second Corps commanding officer.

Chamans now command the reserve corps.

And Severin commands, as he cheekily calls "The Republican Guard"

You no longer have the Aide De Camp Bonus from Davout.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------






You looked at the Propaganda and Broadsheets that littered the town center and the bulletin board.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!!" You said handing one of the Junior officers who had quietly encouraged this and furiously looked at him.

"We assumed that with some artistic liberties with your art form we could...entice some of the more willing men to join us." He said.

"I refuse to allow myself to be treated like a prize to unwashed morons who think that joining will give him a chance to try to seduce me! And my legs are NOT that long!!" You shouted.

Then you slapped the Officer and his aide as you then punched the wall.

"But Generale if we get rid of these broadsheets, it could lead to a hole in our recruitment drive." He stammered.

"What you did was unflattering, rude, crude, and unbecoming of a French officer! Sevrin!!" You shouted.

"Yes Ma'am!" He said.

"Put these fools in iron and in a hold, they are getting Twenty five lashes for this ungentlemanly behavior! And this Insult to my honor and dignity as an officer and a woman." You shouted.

They were dragged away as you looked at the dozens of copies… "I hope no one is mad enough to keep a copy of these for themselves."

-----------------------------------------

Napoleon sneezed. "I feel terrible for keeping these."

"For god's sake...your obsession with this woman knows no bounds, Napoleon?" Lannes said as he put it in a lockbox.

"I have a weakness for tall women Lannes, you should know this about me." Napoleon said.

"Toche...she does cut a handsome figure though, just don't let her know about this and you'll be fine." He noted.

Failure: Some of your junior officers tried to sell "Indecencies" to entice recruitment. You put a stop to that shit and did so rather publicly.

You think it turned off some people from wanting to fight for you.

Your only hope Charlotte didn't keep a few copies for blackmail.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------






"Why aren't they doing anything?" You asked as you looked at the artillery range.

"If I had to guess, Chamans would be-".

The Massive Explosion answered your question and cut off Berthier's explanation as some explosives seemed to go off.

"SHIT!!" Berthier shouted in shock.

"Oh god...Chamas was down there." You said as you both ran as fast as you could to the range.

-----------------------------------

"ALRIGHT Get the Medical stretchers organized and get them to the doctors double-time it!" Chamas said as aside from the ash and the mud on himself along with a few cuts and bruises, seemed completely fine as he barked orders to retrieve and move the wounded away. The Cannons he was standing by, had exploded, merely a mess of metal and wood splinters.

"Colonel Report!" You shouted as you and Bertier both panted from the long run you were forced to do to get here and help.

"Ah Generales, do be supportive and help the men clean up and...shit I'm guessing you want to know what went wrong?" He said as he sat down. "I think my head is a little whirry and fuzzy."

"I most certainly would!" Berthier said as you sighed. "And you should get a doctor!"

"What happened?" You demanded as a doctor came to Chamans assistance.

Chamans chuckled, not even worried that he had nearly died. "As it turns out we have a traitor among us, someone left a trail of gunpowder to powder storage to the range. Along with the destruction of the cannon. So until we find the man who tried to kill me, and destroy our cannon ...all training is canceled for the duration, and all cannoneers will be placed into Barrack's.." He said.

"Anything else?" You said feeling very worried that you now had an assassin in your midst.

"Forty men are in the Medical Tent for the next few weeks, it could have been worse but I noticed the trail before any more guns could be destroyed, or any more crews could have gotten hurt." Chamans stated as he tried to dust himself off.

"Colonel, please." The doctor started.

"I am alive, doctor, I will go to the medical tent when this is all cleaned up." He stated.

And you and Berthier agreed to allow Chamans to take command.

CRITICAL Failure!:

There is an agent trying to sabotage your equipment and kill you and your senior officers.

If he is not found soon, there will be another attempt to sabotage your army, and another attempt to kill your senior officers.

Chamans has been wounded, but the wounds are not life-threatening, and he will just need a few days to recover.

-1 Cannon

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Severin smiled as you looked up from the report. "This is accurate?" You asked.

"I'd never lie about training or about my charge's experience and aptitude in training." He stated. "To do so would be dishonorable."

"It says he can load a musket in less than twenty seconds, and get three rounds off in a minute?" You replied. Only the best riflemen in the army could do that. "And that he has taken to strategy as well?"

Severin nodded. "To the infantry… a boy after my own heart." He then cleared his throat. "And he's taken to leading the boys of the Guard as his own in Drill."

You nodded. "Anything else?"

"I believe that, despite Louis' anger at many things, it has cooled now… slightly." He replied. "He will not do anything stupid… unless he believes he has to."

You nodded. So like you. "Very well. Dismissed."

Reward: +2 to military and infantry commands skills to Louis Capet.

He has made friends with the young boys in the army units, forming the Small Boy Brigade.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------






There was only one question on your mind as you and Charlotte sat down in the parlor that was your office. Well you had several, but there was one burning question that was in your mind. "Charlotte. I must ask, how in blazes did you get all those adventure books about me, especially the English ones?"

Charlotte looked away, embarrassed at the question. "I… Wrote them."

That made you laugh, causing the young woman to look away even more. "Very funny charlotte. I'm being serious."

"And I am as well. My noble uncle is in London, with other royalists who escaped captivity and execution that claimed my father and mother. And given that the government hasn't prevented me from having my own correspondence, I have taken the liberty to write stories, under a Pseudonym and false identity."

That made you narrow your eyes. "Have you contacted them?"

"Only to inform them that I am alive, and that I want no part in any of their schemes to put Louis into danger, by trying to place him onto the Throne of France. The people have already chosen their own path, and while I despise the men who have run this government and who have killed my family… those men are no longer in power, and they have paid for their crimes."

"But why have you written false stories about me?" You asked. "And where did you find the time to do so?"

"Because you are the first person in all my life that I believe in, who deserves such stories. Almighty God may guide my heart and spirit, but you? You have given me hope when all the world seemed poised to destroy us… and you showed me that this revolution was not just about revenge against my family and the Ancien regime? You showed me that people were better than the violence, they cared for one another, and that the constant tyranny that my family was a part of was not right? Not just or honorable. You made me believe that this revolution that you are willing to die for, is something to die for."

There were tears in her eyes, as she hugged you. "This world is cruel. But it also brought you Thérèse into our lives and allowed us to be free."

She then let go and laughed. "As for finding time, you are remarkably lenient, and I'm a good enough assistant to finish all the paperwork before you even start the day, and any additional work that may arise through the day. I finish a book every two weeks… I have nothing better to do and it will help maintain an income now that the state does not belong to my family."

"I could always be less lenient." You snarked. "And make you pay for yourself?"

"I don't make enough money to pay for myself and Louis, and I think my uncle steals the money to finance his… lifestyle."

Ah… "We could always invade London, force him to stand trial for fraud and thievery."

There was laughter. "Perhaps." She replied.

Reward: Charlotte is no longer depressed. Her stats will reflect that.

You learn that she is one of the many popular novelists who have written stories about you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------






You looked at Brian as you looked at the cup of Chocolate and tried to enjoy it as he looked ready to break down at the fact you were going off to some foreign hellhole far from home.

His wife was off with her brother, trying to defuse some family issue that Brian wished to not involve himself with. Something involving a younger brother who was arrested again, and him needing to be bailed out of prison in Paris.

Apparently, Public drunkenness.

He wasn't worried about the fact you would survive..he never doubted you for a second when it came to the possibility of leading men into the battle for a nation.

It was the political situation that frightened you. And given your recent experience with French Politics, the Ottoman Politics of the region were...frightening.

Ottoman politics were poorly understood, even by the best of France's experienced diplomatic corps in the Ancien Regime, with the access granted to the Ottoman's vast understanding of their political system, by Pasha's information and Tallyrand's digging into the French Archives, giving at best a partial understanding of the situation at large.

Egypt was a matter you still struggled to understand entirely. With it controlling key granaries and the production of food and other valuable resources, its vast population centers, and a considerable history of autonomy under various Islamic states of the past, it was a political nightmare to navigate at the best of times, in a peaceful world, with accurate information from a source that was far more knowledgeable in the area than anyone in France.

The Ottoman Empire was not peaceful. Nor would there be peace without a great deal of violence.

But you knew your place in this world… but you did not know what Brian planned to do. His entire plan seemed… vacant, and unknowable.

"Brian." You paused as you finished the cup of Chocolate, and set it down on the plate. "I want to know something. What are you planning to do, now that the war is over?"

Brian chuckled. "I'm going home to Avignon." That made your eyes widened. Home? You hadn't considered that place a home for years now, not since your parents died. "I managed to secure a Chateau before I left Paris, along with several hundred acres of farmland. I had hoped that since the war was over, I could give Elisa something we never had."

A Home. So many years you both spent on the road, surveying and mapping the French countryside in your youth after your father and mother died, that the concept was something foreign to you.

Even after joining the army, the constant movement never allowed either of you to settle down, to make friends with the locals in the countryside.

It was lonely. But the friends you did make were some of the best you had.

It was a shame many of them died in the first battles of the revolution… and to the Prussians.

"Are you going to try to get mother and father's bodies moved to that estate?" You asked, remembering the small meadow and the cemetery where your parents were buried. The place you had only been to once, where you hid, hoping that your father would come and find you.

But your father never came. It was only Brian.

"No…" Brian's voice was deflated, the memory that flowed through his mind, painful. "They will remain buried where we left them."

You changed the subject. "Are you planning to leave the Army… Permanently?" You asked.

"No… I fear Napoleon's ambition will lead to something that is far more damaging than I fear I can imagine… If I'm not there to temper his anger, or worse, remind him of what we may lose… then I fear many things that France has gained over this revolution will be lost."

"Why do you think that?" You asked.

Brian remained quiet. "Just be careful around him, I fear he does not have your best interests at heart."

You shook your head. "No one has ever had my best interests at heart save for you, Brian… But I promise I will be careful."

You then cracked a smile. "I just hope you realize that I can take care of myself, Brian."

Brian nodded. "I know."

He then gave you a hug across the table. "I'll miss you."

"Then we'll see each other again soon." He replied.

Reward: Brian says goodbye to you... for now.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Try it." Charlotte said handing you the Passage of the Scottish Play.

"It's in English, a hard language." You said.

"Well DO IT...and prove to the Bard you can be a master of Class." She said. "And I can speak five languages, and I am not as brilliant as you, you have no right to complain."

You rolled your eyes and took a breath. "If I cock it up I blame you."

"For god's sake, woman just read the Scottish Play." She said.

"Are you that superstitious about the Name of the Bards greatest work?" You said.

"I am...and you should do it." She said.

You sighed and took a deep breath, and gathered your voice.

"Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more."

You chose the best lines and put your entire soul into it...and personally, you thought it fit.

And then you felt something grow in your heart.

Reward: +2 Oratory. Your English Skill is now passable as you can recite Shakesphere without issue.

You hope that learning languages are easier now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------






Joseph Marie Jacquard was smiling at you in your office. " Générale Auclair, I must say that the opportunity to meet a potential investor in my machine has… been greatly appreciated."

"I am not a weaver by trade, but I do have a fascination for machines and new technologies that make life better." You stated as you shook the man's hands. "Along with removing myself from the danger of becoming a pauper again."

"That indeed." He replied. "Tell me, are you familiar with the Vendee Uprising?"

"My brother was one of the commanding generals of the Republican forces sent to quell it." You stated.

Jacquard was silent for a single moment. "Oh...So you Therese Auclair, the Protector de Valmy?"

"I am."

He smiled. "I had heard that you were a very bright mind, one of the Brightest in France," He seemed frantic and elated that you were in front of him, someone… his equal? His better. "could you… take a look at something for me?" He then walked back towards the door and removed a large drawing… schematics of a machine. "This is my machine. A Machine that will make clothes for everyone in France in less than five years."

"I know nothing about mechanics or engineering for a machine?" You started confused.

"But you know mathematics, correct?

"Enough to do calculations for Artillery, not for… this?" You pointed to the machine.

Then you saw… a problem? It was something you just saw because of the angles of the machine. "Do you have a pencil… or something to draw with?" You asked.

You took a smaller piece of paper, and started to copy the entire machine, in the drawing fixing details that you saw…

With every line, Jacquard's smile grew, and when you were finished… he had nearly bowed his head to you.

"I've been trying that design for over two years now… and you fixed it in an afternoon?" He laughed. "Brilliant… absolutely Brilliant!"

"I just-"

Jacquard laughed. "You are the most brilliant woman in the world Générale Auclair!" He frantically jumped into the air like a schoolboy, and continued smiling. "This… This is how we can clothe a nation, how we can make France an industrial power… we may not be able to achieve it now… but…" his smile was infectious. "It will make us both some of the wealthiest people in the world."

"I trust that the return on investment will be well worth it?" You replied.

"Richer than kings and emperors." He stated.

Reward: France has truly entered the Industrial Age, and can possibly become an industrial power.

The Jacquard-Auclair machines will be created, with your name added onto the patent as well as Jacquard.

In two years (8 turns) you will have a passive income of +6 personal wealth, provided that France does not suffer a critical disaster roll failure or a fall into a civil war.

Once the factories are operational, France disaster roll will have a +10 for two turns.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------






Well...Napoleon cleaned up nicely.

He didn't smell horrible, or worse, like Severin and Kleber when you had spoken to the men, stinking of beer, wine, and sex.

Did he take a bath before getting ready? It's 5 in the morning. Did he wake up and do it himself?

Wait...he seems far too groomed for a simple army barber's work, did he comb his hair himself?

Was he wearing a custom uniform Brian had written about, the one made by a tailor in Verona...by God, this man was trying far too hard to be impressive. It's almost endearing

His dress uniform was clean, free of any stains or mud that seemed to indicate it was once worn by a man on a campaign. His black coat still looked clean, as if he had never done a single thing with it before he arrived he seemed to be trying far too hard to impress you.

You had to admit it...it made him look rather dashing.

He even grew out his hair to a respectable length, his hair had lightened and the black uniform made his eyes shine brighter.

The ambition in battle was now being applied to this day of getting to know him on a personal level.

This was going to be a long day.

(Continued in Interlude: The Date of Napoleon Bonaparte)

AN: Hello everyone, this is amazing.

I love it and I thank you for the support of this quest.

Also: We have to say this.

WHY DICE WHY!