They walked a little farther from the factory, boots crunching over gravel and packed dirt. The noise behind them faded. The air smelled cleaner here, though coal smoke still hung faintly over the fields.
Then Napoleon I stopped.
Something cut straight through the ground ahead.
Two parallel iron bars. Set on wooden sleepers. Perfectly aligned. Running forward until they disappeared behind a low rise.
Beside it stood a machine.
Low. Squat. Blackened iron. A cylindrical boiler mounted on a frame. Pipes ran along its sides. A short chimney jutted upward, already darkened with soot. Behind it were two open carriages, nothing more than reinforced platforms with benches and iron railings.
Napoleon stared.
"What is this?" he asked.
Napoleon II didn’t answer immediately. He stepped closer to the track and placed a hand on the iron rail.
"This," he said, "is another application of the steam engine."
Napoleon frowned. "Application?"
"Transportation," Napoleon II replied.
Antoine stepped forward, unable to hide the pride in his voice.
"It was His Highness’s design, Sire," he said. "We built it as quickly as we could with what we had. It’s crude, but it works."
Napoleon’s eyes never left the machine.
"You’re telling me," he said slowly, "that this thing moves?"
"Yes, Father," Napoleon II said. "On its own."
Napoleon let out a short breath. "With no horses."
"No horses," Napoleon II confirmed.
A group of workers stood nearby. One of them climbed onto the locomotive, opened a valve slightly. Steam hissed out. Another checked the firebox, shoveling coal inside. The sound deepened. Pressure built.
Napoleon watched everything.
The gauge needle crept upward.
The metal groaned softly as heat expanded it.
"This track," Napoleon II said, "is one kilometer long. Straight. Flat. Just enough to show you what comes next."
Napoleon turned to him. "And what comes next?"
"France connected," Napoleon II replied. "City to city. Factory to port. Army to border."
The workers stepped back.
One of them nodded to Antoine.
Antoine raised a hand. "Stand clear."
There was a sharp release of steam.
The locomotive lurched.
Napoleon’s hand shot out instinctively, gripping the railing of the carriage beside him.
The machine moved forward. Slowly at first. Then steadier.
The wheels clacked against the rails. A rhythmic sound. Metal on metal. Predictable.
Napoleon’s grip tightened.
"This thing is moving," he said.
Napoleon II climbed onto the carriage first and turned back, extending a hand.
"Come on, Father."
Napoleon hesitated. Just for a moment.
Then he stepped up and sat, hands gripping the railings on either side.
The locomotive picked up speed.
Wind hit their faces. Not strong. But unmistakable.
The ground slid past beneath them.
Napoleon’s shoulders were rigid. His jaw clenched.
"You can let go," Napoleon II said calmly. "It won’t throw you off."
Napoleon didn’t.
"This is faster than a carriage," he muttered.
"And it doesn’t tire," Napoleon II replied.
They passed the halfway point. The factory was already behind them now, smaller. Distant.
Napoleon finally loosened his grip slightly.
"This," Napoleon said slowly, "changes everything."
Napoleon II nodded. "That’s the idea."
The locomotive slowed near the end of the track, steam venting as the workers applied the brakes.
They came to a stop.
Napoleon sat there for a second longer than necessary, hands still on the rail.
Then he laughed.
"So this," he said, "is the future you keep talking about."
Napoleon II smiled.
"One of many. But industrializing the whole of France cost a lot of money. So I suggest father, that you invest heavily on it. It doesn’t matter if you have the largest army in the continent now, what matters is what you can produce and how many."
Napoleon stayed seated for a moment longer, eyes still fixed on the rails ahead. Steam drifted past them in thin white clouds, hissing as it escaped the valves. The machine ticked as it cooled, metal contracting, settling back into stillness.
He stood and stepped down from the carriage.
He walked a few paces along the track, boots following the iron line. He bent slightly and placed a hand on the rail. It was still warm.
Napoleon straightened.
"I spent my life moving men," he said. "Marching them. Feeding them. Losing them to mud, to hunger, to time."
He turned back toward his son.
"This moves faster than an army," he said. "And it never complains."
Napoleon II said nothing. He let the thought finish on its own.
Napoleon looked back at the locomotive. At the carriages. At the straightness of the track.
"When I conquered, I thought in terms of maps," he went on. "Borders. Rivers. Capitals."
He shook his head once.
"You’re teaching me to think in terms of production."
Napoleon II nodded. "Armies win battles. Industry wins eras."
Napoleon exhaled slowly.
"You’re right about the cost," he said. "This will bleed the treasury at first."
He looked at Antoine. At the workers standing nearby, hands black with soot, eyes bright with something close to belief.
"But I’ve bled France for less," Napoleon said.
He turned back to his son.
"I’ll back it," he said simply. "All of it."
Napoleon II looked up at him.
"I’ll have Gaudin release the funds," Napoleon continued. "No half measures. Coal. Iron. Workshops. Rail where it makes sense. Roads where it doesn’t yet."
He paused, then added,
"And I want this expanded. Not just here. Everywhere you think it should go."
Napoleon II allowed himself a small smile.
"I’ll speak to the Finance Minister tonight," he said. "Whatever resistance there is, I’ll crush it. This," he gestured back at the rails, "is cheaper than another war."