Reincarnated as Napoleon

Chapter 217 The Consequences Of The Decision

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April 28th, 1801. At the Palace of Versailles.

"Your Excellency, the Kingdom of Portugal has made its response," Talleyrand said as he walked over towards his desk and handed him a note.

Napoleon grabbed the note from Talleyrand's hand and read it. 

"The Kingdom of Portugal has come to a decision to reject the ultimatum demanded by The Republic of French and the Kingdom of Spain. Your ultimatum is the very essence of power play, attempting to subdue a sovereign nation under the weight of your ambitions. It is with deep resolve that we affirm our commitment to maintaining our sovereignty and independence, and to uphold the alliances we have formed over time. We will not yield to threats that undermine the principles upon which our nation stands.

The ties between Portugal and Great Britain are rooted in history, common interests, and mutual respect. These bonds have contributed to the prosperity and stability of our nation, and we will not sever them under duress. Our decision to reject your ultimatum is a reflection of our determination to chart our own course and safeguard the interests of the Portuguese people.

We do not seek conflict, but we will not shy away from defending our nation and our allies if pushed. We implore you to reconsider your approach and to engage in diplomatic dialogue rather than resorting to aggression…blah blah blah." 

Napoleon crumpled the paper in his hand, his brows furrowing in irritation. "I don't know what the Portuguese are thinking but do they really think that they'll stand a chance against the combined forces of France and Spain?"

Talleyrand cleared his throat. "Your Excellency, the Kingdom of Portugal's rejection is a bold move, to be sure. They may be counting on their historical ties with Britain."

"Ah I don't think so, the British can't help but themselves at this point," Napoleon said as he threw the crumpled paper at the fireplace and watched it burn. 

Talleyrand nodded in agreement. "Indeed, Your Excellency. The United Kingdom's own preoccupations limit its ability to provide significant support to Portugal. Nevertheless, the Portuguese are clearly determined to defend their sovereignty."

"Well, let's teach that country a lesson. Send a word to General Saint-Cyr. Tell him that I'm authorizing a full-scale military campaign against Portugal," Napoleon declared.

***

May 7th, 1801. In the capital city of the Spanish Kingdom. General Saint-Cyr arrived on a steam locomotive accompanied by a contingent of his staff officers. The train's screeching halt echoed through the station as the hiss of steam filled the air. Saint-Cyr stepped onto the platform and swept his gaze at the city. 

He wasted no time. With precise orders, he set the operation in motion. French troops, clad in their distinct blue uniforms, disembarked from the trains. They formed disciplined lines, carrying wooden crates, cannons, and rifles. 

The crates, stacked with logistical supplies, were swiftly organized and loaded onto waiting wagons. Cannons were rolled off the trains and positioned strategically. Rifles and ammunition were distributed among the soldiers.

While all of that was happening, Saint-Cyr saw a person approaching him with an entourage of Spanish troops.

The person walking towards him wears a powdered wig, appears to be in his early thirties, dressed in a black uniform that bore the insignia of high rank. 

"You must be General Saint-Cyr," the man said the moment he neared him.

"That is correct, and who might you be?" Saint-Cyr asked.

The man's lips curved slightly, hinting at a controlled smile. "I am Manuel Godoy," he replied. "First Secretary of State of the Kingdom of Spain, or in your terms, the Prime Minister.  And the one who will accompany your forces to Portugal."

"Oh…a pleasure to meet you then…how should I address you?" Saint-Cyr inquired.

Godoy will suffice," he replied. "We have a common objective, General, and our success depends on efficient collaboration." 

Saint-Cyr nodded in agreement. "Very well, Manuel Godoy. Our forces are prepared to carry out the campaign as authorized by the First Consul, Napoleon. I assume that you already concocted an invasion plan?" 

Godoy chuckled as he glanced at Saint-Cyr, his eyes revealing a glint of interest. "Impressive," he commented. "Your First Consul is right, you are a straightforward person."

Saint-Cyr's expression remained composed. "Godoy, let's not waste time on this nonsensical exchange, and let's get to the matter at hand," Saint-Cyr responded in a no-nonsense tone. "I'm here to carry out the orders of my superiors and fulfill our mission efficiently."

Godoy's chuckle grew into a full-fledged laugh. "A practical man, I see. Very well, General Saint-Cyr. I appreciate your directness." He paused, his amusement fading into a more serious demeanor. "Follow me to my carriage. We shall head to the Royal Palace of Madrid. There, we'll discuss the finer details of our campaign 

Without waiting for a response, Godoy turned and started walking toward a lavish carriage, elegantly adorned with the Spanish royal crest. His entourage of Spanish troops followed closely. Saint-Cyr exchanged a quick glance with his staff officers before falling in step behind Godoy.

As they approached the carriage, Godoy opened the door and gestured for Saint-Cyr to enter. "After you, General," he said with a polite nod.

Saint-Cyr nodded in acknowledgment and climbed into the carriage. Godoy followed suit, and the door was closed behind them. The carriage jolted forward as the horses started pulling it, making its way through the streets of the Spanish capital.

Ten minutes later. 

The carriage turned a corner, and the Royal Palace came into full view. The carriage pulled up to the palace's entrance, and as it came to a stop, the door was opened by a waiting attendant.

Godoy gestured for Saint-Cyr to exit first, and they stepped out onto the grand courtyard of the palace. Spanish soldiers stood at attention. Godoy's entourage joined them, forming a dignified procession as they made their way into the palace and his office.

"So this is your office, huh?" Saint-Cyr mused, taking in the surroundings.

"Yes, General," Godoy replied with a nod. "The Royal Palace serves as the official residence and workplace of the Spanish monarch, as well as the center of political and administrative activities." 

Godoy motioned toward a large table with a detailed map spread out. 

Saint-Cyr walked over to the table and surveyed the map with a professional eye. It displayed the geographical layout of Portugal and its surrounding territories, marked with potential routes, strategic points, and areas of interest. 

Godoy joined him. "So, General Saint-Cyr, shall we begin?"