Another year passed like a blur, and the year was 1813. The date was March 20th. At this point in time, Napoleon was no longer the triumphant emperor Europe feared. The catastrophe in Russia had stripped him of his veteran army. What remained of the Grande Armée had limped home in fragments—frostbitten, half-starved, and broken. Reports flowed into Paris every week describing men collapsing by roadsides, horses dying from exhaustion, entire units reduced to a handful of survivors.
By March, the empire was still standing, but it was shaken.
Napoleon was rebuilding, assembling what forces he could from the conscripts of France, the reserves of Germany, and from whatever draft-age young men could still be pulled into uniform. The allies who once marched under his banner were turning uncertain. Prussia shifted away from neutrality and leaned toward open hostility. Austria hesitated, watching from a distance with a neutral mask and an opportunistic mind.
Europe sensed weakness.
And Alfred, now two years old, sensed the tension even if his body still lagged behind his mind.
Inside the Tuileries, the quiet routines of the palace had changed. The hallways that once carried the echo of confident footsteps now felt heavier. Officers walked with rigid urgency. Ministers spoke in shorter sentences. Even the servants whispered more often, especially after dark.
Napoleon hadn't visited the nursery in months.
Not even a passing glance.
He was occupied with reorganizing what was left of his empire—mobilizing the "Marie-Louise" conscripts (named mockingly after his young wife), negotiating with wavering allies, and preparing for another campaign in Germany. He barely slept. He barely ate. And when he walked through the palace, he moved like a man being chased.
Marie Louise, on the other hand, visited more regularly, but her demeanor had changed as well. She often looked tired, sometimes frightened. She spent more time with her ladies, exchanging uneasy glances whenever someone mentioned battles, treaties, or Prussia's movements.
Alfred watched it all from the vantage point of a child.
France was preparing for another war. And it is a war that France would lose again.
And this is the point where Alfred lost faith in Napoleonic France to make a comeback. But, it's still salvageable in this state.
He recalled his memories about Napoleon's upcoming battles.
Lützen.
Bautzen.
Dresden.
Leipzig.
Victories at first but it was fragile victories earned through Napoleon's personal skill rather than the strength of his army. Then the collapse at Leipzig, where the coalition finally overwhelmed him. After that, the retreat across Germany, the loss of support from the Confederation of the Rhine, and the inevitable approach of enemy forces toward France itself.
Alfred knew this timeline well enough to recite it. He had read about it online in simple bullet-point summaries, long posts from military history forums, and alternate-history discussions where people debated what Napoleon should have done.
He wasn't a historian. He wasn't a general. But he understood enough to know that France was finished if nothing changed. He should have made peace at this point if Napoleon wants to keep his Empire.
Wait?
There was a way for him to keep the empire. He remembered there was a proposal made by Austria to France after the battle of the nations. He believed it was called the Frankfurt proposal.
Austria, acting as mediator, had offered Napoleon generous peace terms before the coalition fully committed to invading France. The borders would roll back, yes—but France would still remain one of the strongest powers in Europe. Napoleon would keep control of France "natural borders"—the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees. He would stay Emperor. The dynasty would survive. Paris would remain untouched.
If Napoleon had accepted it, the empire would not collapse in 1814.
Alfred remembered the date with decent accuracy: late 1813, when Austria and Britain still believed Napoleon might negotiate. At that time, the coalition wasn't yet committed to destroying him. They wanted to end the war without spending another year fighting in France.
That was the only window.
And Napoleon rejected it.
Because he believed he could still win.
In that case, the events of battle in Germany should continue and then once Napoleon returned after his defeat, he would try to reason with him.
That's right, a two year old boy would speak to his father about the future of France. The problem is how would he meet his father and speak privately? Well, he'll figure it out. But first, France has to lose this upcoming battle in Germany before he could make his move.
This is the only way to save Napoleon and the French Empire. This is his second chance in life, he doesn't care if this event would alter the course of history, he won't waste this life.
After all, the future of Napoleon II, which is himself, was bleak when the Empire collapsed. This is all or nothing.
And the months flew by fast.
The expected events of the battle of Germany proceeded as intended by fate.
Spring opened with Lützen.
The reports that reached Paris described the clash as a French victory, but the tone behind them was subdued. Napoleon achieved the result he wanted, driving the coalition forces back and securing the field. Yet the cost exposed the weakness of his new army. The young recruits held the line only because Napoleon personally directed movements, filling gaps, pushing them forward, and refusing to let the front collapse.
It was a victory sustained by his presence, not by France's strength.
Then came Bautzen.
Again, Napoleon pushed the enemy into retreat. Again, the couriers delivered the word "victory" with strained expressions. The French army was bleeding with every step deeper into Germany. The coalition armies, though pushed back, were not broken—they were regrouping, learning, adapting. Russia and Prussia were not fighting like they had in earlier wars. They were cautious. Coordinated. Determined to prolong the campaign, knowing France was running out of resources and manpower.
The summer armistice followed, and while Paris hoped it meant a path toward peace, Alfred knew the truth: the coalition used the pause to reinforce, reorganize, and pull Austria fully into their ranks. Napoleon gained nothing from it but time he could not properly use.
The campaign resumed with Dresden.
This was Napoleon at his finest—the kind of battle where his tactical brilliance shone brightest. News arrived of a sweeping victory, the coalition armies thrown into disarray. Spirits rose briefly within the Tuileries. Even the palace servants allowed themselves rare smiles.
But Dresden was a short-lived triumph.
Even before the cheers faded, dispatches reported that Vandamme's corps had been destroyed at Kulm. Entire divisions were lost. Thousands captured. The momentum Napoleon seized at Dresden evaporated within days.
The palace fell silent again.
Then autumn arrived… and with it, Leipzig.
The Battle of the Nations.
Alfred felt the shift in the atmosphere as soon as the first courier stumbled through the palace gates. Leipzig lasted several days, and every day brought new fragments of grim news. The coalition forces—now strengthened by Austria—pressed France from all sides. Dependent allies defected mid-battle. Saxon troops changed sides, firing on the French. Supply routes collapsed. Communication broke down. Napoleon's marshals, overwhelmed and exhausted, could not hold the line.
When Napoleon ordered the retreat, it was already too late for many.
The infamous bridge explosion left thousands stranded on the wrong side of the river. Units were cut off. Soldiers drowned trying to swim to safety. Artillery pieces were abandoned. The Grande Armée, once Europe's most formidable military force, disintegrated as it withdrew.
And to add salt to the injury, the besieged garrisons of France across Germany collapsed as well.
By the time the final dispatch arrived in Paris, announcing the defeat, the Great Army of Germany no longer existed in any recognizable form. The Confederation of the Rhine collapsed within days. Napoleon's German allies abandoned him. Coalition armies rolled across the Rhine, preparing to march straight into France.
The current month was November, year 1813. His father, Napoleon, is in the palace, stressing himself on how he would turn the tables.
This was the opportunity.