When clearing the battlefield, Napoleon came across Duke Carl, who had regained consciousness.
Duke Carl then touched his nose.
Napoleon: "Don’t worry, your nose hasn’t collapsed."
Carl: "You really aren’t born a noble, completely lacking manners."
Napoleon: "Then you are mistaken, I am a noble registered in the civil registry."
"Oh really? Where are your lands?"
Napoleon hesitated because his nobility was facilitated through the French King; his father was merely someone who managed a garden on Corsica for the French King.
In desperation, Napoleon blurted out: "All of Corsica is my domain!"
"You are the Duke of Corsica?"
Holding onto the belief that if he isn’t embarrassed, then the embarrassment falls on others, Napoleon nodded: "Correct, Duke of Corsica. You are a duke, I am also a duke, so let’s not look down on each other."
Carl: "I am also the third brother of the Emperor."
"I am a student of Frost," Napoleon paused, then added, "his most proud one!"
Carl seemed to recall something, suddenly he realized: "You are that Corsican lackey of the leatherworker..."
Napoleon: "Damn it! Call him General Frost!"
Napoleon was originally planning to slap Carl, but he restrained himself in the end.
Carl: "I meant no offense, it’s just that the nobles around have always called him that, I got used to it. Apologies."
Napoleon: "You do not understand how great General Frost is! Think back to how you were defeated, did you know, General Frost had foreseen as early as in 1784, how fearsome the military force of a national state could be after their rise!"
Carl frowned: "1784?"
"Yes, at Briena Military Academy, Frost told me back then that all armies of Europe were private forces of the nobles, the soldiers didn’t wish to fight; so they had to use dense formations to constrain them, surrounded by noble officers, then they could make them charge through cannon fire.
"But the national state is different, the soldiers fight for their nation, for their homeland, each soldier is filled with the desire to battle."
Duke Carl appeared to have an epiphany: "National state... every person filled with the desire to fight... that’s why you could use loose formation for attacks!"
Napoleon: "Right! Of course, we were forced to do this, because our troops could not maintain proper ranks, better to charge as skirmishers."
Duke Carl seemed thoughtful.
Seeing him deep in thought, Napoleon didn’t disturb him and turned to instruct his Chief of Staff.
After a moment, having finished instructing, Napoleon turned back to Duke Carl and saw that he too had emerged from his contemplation.
Carl: "So, Frost foresaw the current situation as early as in 1784?"
"That’s right, he also told me that the Republic would unleash astounding combat power, and you have now personally experienced whether he was right."
Carl nodded: "Yes, I have experienced it. We previously got information from the French nobles who defected to Austria, thinking they were just a rabble, but it turned out there was more to it."
Napoleon sneered, "Hmph, those treacherous nobles are truly disgraceful. To still speak of nobility after such actions, how could they possibly be noble?"
"Do not speak ill of them," replied Carl, "The nobles are only accountable to the feudal lords above them. Since you forced the highest lord, the King, to abdicate, they naturally have no obligation to stay in France."
"That’s exactly what’s laughable!" Napoleon pointed at Carl’s nose, "Oh, sorry, it’s just a habit whenever I argue with Andy; we tend to point at each other ."
"Andy," Carl nodded slightly, not saying much more, and made a gesture for Napoleon to continue.
Napoleon continued, "From now on, there will no longer be such ridiculous feudal relationships. On the territory of the Republic, there is only a nation called France, and all allegiance is to the French nation and the Republic which represents it!"
"The end of the Lords is near!"
Carl interjected, "You will face a coalition attack from the kings of all Europe."
"Let them attack!" Napoleon declared boldly, his spirit undeterred, "The Republic will not fail, and Frost will not fail!"
Carl seemed taken aback by the zealot-like aura emanating from Napoleon.
Napoleon spoke passionately, then finally calmed down and remembered the purpose of his visit to the Grand Duke Carl: "Right, I came here to notify you of your future treatment. I will first confine you in a fortress, then ask the National Assembly in Paris how to deal with the Holy Roman Emperor’s brother."
Carl questioned, "Will I be executed?"
"If it were the past, probably not. You’d sign an agreement not to partake in war against France for a year, and then have your brother send a ransom, and you could return home safe and sound—aside from your nose possibly being knocked askew."
"And what about now?"
"I can’t say for sure. Right now, Paris is madly executing nobles and Royalists. You are a Royalist, aren’t you?"
Carl wore a speechless expression, "I am of the Habsburg royal family; how could I support the Republic?"
"Why not? The sister and father of the French King are Republicans, staunch ones at that," shrugged Napoleon, "In France, there are plenty of noble Republicans. After all, this is the homeland of Rousseau, Voltaire, and Montesquieu. And I am also a Republican."
Carl retorted, "I think you follow Frost."
"That’s not incorrect either, but Frost is a staunch Republican. He is, after all, the leader of the four great Jacobins."
Carl raised his eyebrows slightly, "Four giants? Now only three remain."
"What?" Napoleon was shocked. "Three? Who died? It couldn’t possibly be Frost; he is a man fated by destiny."
"Ah, the journalist. He died, huh," Napoleon paused, "Andy... Frost must be very heartbroken, after all those years of friendship. If I were there, I’d have a drink with him."
After finishing, he shook his head, "But now it’s alright, he has Miss Christina by his side. If it had been the old Frost, I would have been worried. Anyway, relax in the fortress until Paris hands down your sentence. But let me tell you that in the French Army, officers and soldiers eat the same food during wartime, a tradition started by Frost."
"I heard he drinks the finest red wine, do the soldiers have that too?"
"That’s battlefield limited," Napoleon explained, "He pours a glass of red wine on the day of battle, then watches his troops—us—crush the enemy. Goodbye."
With that, Napoleon left, and the staff that accompanied him followed in procession, closing the door behind them.
Grand Duke Carl sat in the empty fortress guest room, contemplating the conversation just had.
"Republic... nation-state... soldiers who know for what they fight..." Napoleon’s words seemed to possess a certain magic, wildly proliferating in Grand Duke Carl’s mind.