Reincarnated as Napoleon

Chapter 72 Napoleon's Confession?

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February 1st, 1796. Napoleon was in the children's bedroom with Napoleon carrying Aveline and Francis in his arms. They purled and giggled cutely as he swayed them gently.

"Who's the best, huh? Aveline? Francis?" Napoleon playfully whispered a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He nuzzled his face against their chubby cheeks, showering them with gentle kisses.

The children responded with even more joyous laughter, their tiny hands reaching out to touch Napoleon's face.

"Ouch…ouch…that's my eyes!" Napoleon exclaimed, pretending to be wounded by their tiny fingers. He exaggerated his reaction, playfully squinting his eyes and feigning pain.

Aveline and Francis burst into fits of laughter, their innocent giggles filling the room.

"Darling," a voice interrupted from behind. Napoleon turned and saw Ciela dressed in a formal style attire, her eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. She stood at the doorway, a radiant smile gracing her lips as she observed the tender scene unfolding before her.

"Oh... Mama is here," Napoleon said with a playful grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Ciela. He gently shifted Francis in his arms and made his way towards her.

"I must say, they are quite lively," Napoleon commented.

"Ma-ma!" Aveline babbled.

Napoleon looked at Aveline, his eyes furrowing.

Ciela's smile widened as Aveline uttered her first attempt at the word "mama." Her heart swelled with joy, and she eagerly reached out to take Aveline into her embrace.

"Ma-ma!" Aveline repeated, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she nestled against Ciela's shoulder. Francis, sensing the commotion, extended his tiny arms, indicating that he wanted to be held as well.

"Hey...hey...this isn't fair," Napoleon chimed in playfully, a mock pout forming on his lips. "Say, papa. Pa-pa."

Napoleon coaxed with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, his voice filled with playful anticipation. He leaned closer to Francis, his expression a mix of excitement and amusement.

Francis blinked his innocent eyes and tilted his head as if pondering his father's request. A smile played on his tiny lips, and he let out a gurgling sound that resembled a baby's laughter. Napoleon couldn't help but chuckle at his son's adorable response.

"Papa!" Francis exclaimed, his voice filled with glee as if he had understood his father's playful request. Napoleon's eyes widened in delight, and a surge of pride washed over him. He couldn't believe how quickly their children were growing and developing.

"I thought they were never going to say it," Napoleon said, sighing with relief. "I guess Francis is a papa's boy huh?"

"It certainly seems that way," Ciela chuckled softly. "Well, it's time for us to go. The carriage is waiting outside."

Napoleon and Ciela had an appointment to visit their factories in Paris. They couldn't bring their precious children along, so they had arranged for them to stay under the care of their trusted servants of the chateau.

Sensing that their parents were leaving, Aveline and Francis's faces turned pensive, their innocent eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and a hint of sadness.

"Oh...no...no, they are sad now," Napoleon whispered, his playful demeanor fading for a moment as he observed the emotions flickering across his children's faces. He exchanged a concerned glance with Ciela, their parental instincts kicking in.

"Let me handle it."

Ciela, recognizing the need to soothe their children's sadness, took a step forward and gently positioned herself beside Napoleon. She glanced at him, sharing a silent understanding before shifting her focus to Aveline and Francis, who looked up at their parents with longing eyes.

With a soft and melodic voice, Ciela began to sing a lullaby. The sweet notes floated through the air, carrying a sense of comfort and tranquility.

As Ciela sang, her voice wrapped around Aveline and Francis like a warm blanket, embracing them in a cocoon of serenity. The children's pensive expressions gradually softened, and their eyelids grew heavy with drowsiness.

The lullaby's enchanting cadence continued, its rhythm echoing the rise and fall of their breathing. Aveline nestled closer against Ciela's shoulder, her small hand finding solace in the fabric of her mother's dress. Francis cradled securely in Napoleon's arms, succumbed to the gentle sway, and surrendered to the embrace of sleep.

As the last notes of the lullaby faded away, the room was filled with a peaceful silence. Napoleon and Ciela knew it was time to leave. They placed them back carefully on their respective cribs and left the room. Outside, the servants nodded in acknowledgment as Napoleon and Ciela exited the children's bedroom. Their expressions conveyed a sense of responsibility and devotion, assuring the parents that their little ones would be well cared for in their absence.

With that, the two left the chateau and boarded the carriage. The coachman handled the reins with a steady hand as the carriage set off toward Paris. Along the journey, Napoleon and Ciela discussed some things.

"Darling, I have been meaning to ask you about this, there is a force in the French Army called French Aerostatic Corps. It was established in 1794 and specializes in using hot air balloons for reconnaissance. I found the concept fascinating and I wonder if there are advances made in the future."

Ciela leaned back against the plush seat of the carriage, her gaze fixed on Napoleon, her mind processing his words.

"Well, there was certainly an advancement in that area but the modern armies don't use hot air balloons, instead they use aircraft. Well, technically, a hot air balloon is an aircraft but there is another type of aircraft that has a similar concept to the hot air balloon used for reconnaissance. It's called a blimp."

"Blimp," Napoleon repeated, feigning ignorance. "What does it look like? Can you draw it for me?" He grabbed a quill and a piece of paper.

Ciela chuckled at Napoleon's eagerness to learn about blimps. She took the quill and paper from him and quickly sketched a rough representation of a blimp, highlighting its distinct features.

"It looks something like this," she said, handing the drawing back to him. "A blimp has a long, cigar-shaped body with a large gas-filled envelope that provides its buoyancy. The envelope is attached to a rigid framework or gondola, where the crew and equipment are housed."

"You seem to know a lot about this thing," Napoleon commented.

"Well, I rode one before," Ciela confessed.

"Hmm…" Napoleon mused. "So, you said that this is gas-filled, what type of gas is it?

Ciela paused for a moment, considering Napoleon's question. "In the case of blimps, they are usually filled with a gas called helium," she replied, recalling her previous experience with airships. "Helium is lighter than air and provides the necessary lift for the blimp to stay afloat."

"Helium…I haven't heard that before…"

"Ah right…of course you haven't, because I believe helium was discovered in the mid-nineteenth century. As I recall, helium is extracted from natural gas deposits, through the process of fractional distillation. But unfortunately, I don't know the exact details of the process," Ciela explained, her brows furrowing slightly.

This is the problem when Napoleon is asking Ciela about technology from the future, which is that she never knows the technical principle behind the technology. Of course, it is understandable as one couldn't possibly know every detail about advancements. However, for Napoleon, it is a different case.

He received blessings from a goddess, allowing him to search through Wikipedia and learn about various topics. But should he do that, Ciela would be suspicious of him. She had been suspicious of him when he introduced the law of thermodynamics and invented the telegraph, spark gap radios, steam engines, steam-powered machining, and bolt-action rifles. The only way to address this is to confess to her, about his true identity.

However, it carried a risk. Like affecting their relationship. Napoleon knew that Ciela looked up to the real Napoleon Bonaparte. And if she were to find out that the man she married is not the real Napoleon Bonaparte, but a man from the 21st century, he feared that Ciela may question his authenticity and the foundation of their relationship.

"Darling?" Ciela asked, noticing the troubled expression on Napoleon's face. She reached out and gently placed her hand on his, her touch offering comfort and support. "Is something bothering you?"

Napoleon sighed, his gaze locked with Ciela's. He knew he couldn't keep his secret hidden any longer, not if he wanted to maintain honesty and trust in their relationship. After all, it has been unfair of him, if Ciela told the truth to him while he doesn't.

Taking a deep breath, Napoleon gathered all of his strength. This is the time, it's now or never.

"Ciela…there is something I have to confess. I want you to listen to me very carefully," Napoleon said, his tone serious.

"What is it?"

"The truth is…"