August 2, 1848.
The fiery sun slowly rose from the hills in the East, casting its light and heat on every inch of the city of Ro. This was the hottest ti of the year in Ro, and even in the early morning, the streets were scarcely populated. The city’s less affluent residents flung open all their doors and windows, hoping for a bit of coolness, while the slightly wealthier residents shut their windows and brought out ice blocks stored in their cellars since the previous winter.
At 8 in the morning, in the shade at the entrance of an inn near the Ancient Roman Colosseum, Jero Bonaparte, dressed in simple casual clothes, was lingering in place, waiting for the arrival of a carriage.
The glaring sunlight penetrated through the shade, striking Jero Bonaparte’s back and arms, and sweat drenched his back and sleeves.
The originally white shirt gradually beca wrinkled and clung tightly to Jero Bonaparte’s back, with the damp and sticky feeling from his sleeves and back forcing him to shake his shirt from ti to ti, each shake causing droplets of sweat to fall.
About 10 minutes later, two brown convertible carriages appeared before Jero Bonaparte, with Percy and Letty seated on one carriage each.
The carriage with Percy stopped less than five steps from the shaded area where Jero Bonaparte stood, while Letty’s carriage stopped at the foot of the inn’s steps. Percy and Letty simultaneously got down from their respective carriages, with Percy approaching Jero Bonaparte, while Letty went into the inn along the steps.
"Your Majesty, please get in the carriage!" Percy bowed to Jero Bonaparte and invited him to board the carriage.
"Hmm!"
Jero Bonaparte nodded, sat in Percy’s carriage, and Percy followed suit, taking a seat.
Letty from the other carriage also hurriedly carried bags and ran from the inn to her carriage before sitting down.
Everything was ready, and Jero Bonaparte ordered the driver seated in the driver’s seat in standard Tuscan, "Let’s go!"
Upon hearing the order, the driver gently patted the rump of the chestnut red tall horse, which in response lifted its hooves, and the carriage slowly started moving.
The carriage moved at a constant speed from the Ancient Roman Colosseum to the outskirts of the city of Ro.
When the carriage had completely left the city of Ro, it gradually picked up speed.
As the carriage speed increased, waves of heat hit Jero Bonaparte’s body, and he finally felt a bit of refreshnt.
Thanks to the scorching heat of August, there were no other carriages or pedestrians on the road from Ro to Civitavecchia, allowing Jero Bonaparte’s carriage to gallop freely.
The straight distance of 70 kiloters was covered in less than three hours.
After paying the fare, Percy led Jero Bonaparte and Letty to a cargo ship.
Through Percy’s introduction, Jero Bonaparte learned that the owner of the ship was a retired officer with a la leg who was also a follower of Bonapartism.
As soon as Jero Bonaparte got on the ship, he was engulfed by enthusiasm. Under the captain’s lead, everyone on the ship lined up in two rows, cheerfully shouting, "Long live Bonaparte! Long live the Empire!"
Jero Bonaparte also echoed with a shout of, "Long live the Empire!"
Under the captain’s lead, Jero Bonaparte was taken to the captain’s own cabin.
The entire cabin was extrely tidy, and from its layout, Jero Bonaparte could confirm that the ship’s owner must have had people clean it up beforehand. On the room’s wooden wall hung a portrait of the Emperor crossing the Alps, and next to it were a crossed command saber.
"Thoughtful!" Jero Bonaparte nodded at the captain.
"Your Majesty, this is what we should do!" The captain showed an expression of being flattered and cautiously inquired, "If there’s anything you’re not satisfied with, you can co to anyti!"
"I’m very satisfied!" Jero Bonaparte glanced at the captain, his gaze pausing on the captain’s la right foot for a mont before asking, "Could you tell your story?"
"It’s an honor! Your Majesty!"
The captain recounted his story to Jero Bonaparte. He was born in the Provençal Region during the Empire’s reign. During those tis, while living in the Empire and listening to wounded veterans recount tales of the Emperor’s conquests, he developed an infinite admiration for the Emperor. [Note: In so ways, those veterans who were forced to return to their hotowns because of the war beca the best propagandists of Bonapartism. They used the Emperor’s majestic image to reflect their own bravery.] When he was 9, the Empire collapsed, and the Restoration Dynasty established an émigré community in Provence. They liquidated veterans and officers from the Napoleonic era, and his neighbor, uncle beca targets of the purge; even he almost beca a target.
At this point, the captain spoke with a hoarse voice, "I hate that damned dynasty. It made our lives a ss."
From that mont on, the captain resolved to give that damned dynasty a good showing. To fulfill his revenge, he joined the Bourbon Army at the age of 20, gradually becoming an officer in the Bourbon army.
However, before he could start his military revenge, the Restoration of Bourbon was overthrown, and Charles X was forced to flee.
In a state of bewildernt, he could only drift with the tide and follow the army into Algeria. During a counterattack in Algeria, he was injured and forced to leave the army, and upon returning ho, he used the treasures plundered in Algeria to establish a modest shipping company in Marseille, successfully becoming a captain.
"I’m perpetually looking forward to the coming of the Empire!" the captain told Jero Bonaparte.
"Rest assured! The Empire will return soon!" Jero Bonaparte reassured the captain.
Then, Jero Bonaparte asked the captain about the voting situation at Marseille Port.
"Your Majesty, as far as I know, the situation in Val Province is not optimistic! Most of the rural nobility tend to favor that Cafenak fellow," the captain told Jero Bonaparte candidly at first, then encouraged, "However, I believe the majority of France is willing to support you!"
Upon hearing the bad news from the Rhône River Province, Jero Bonaparte wasn’t surprised; in his mind, most of the votes supporting Cafenak ca from the Provence Region.
The Provence Region was a stronghold for votes from the Orthodox Faction, and it was only natural for those diehard mbers of the Orthodox Faction to be hostile to a Bonapartist like him.
However, if Cafenak thought he could defeat him solely with Provence’s votes, it would indeed be quite difficult.
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