Napoleon II was back in his bedroom, facing the wardrobe. He pulled the two doors open. Inside, suits hung in neat rows.
He reached in and ran his fingers along the sleeves.
Since it was cold outside, he chose a winter suit. Dark blue wool. Double-breasted. Heavy enough to hold warmth, light enough to move in.
He lifted it from the hanger and laid it on the bed.
The shirt came next. He pulled it on, button by button, then the trousers. He fastened the suspenders, adjusted them once, then stepped into the jacket. The weight settled on his shoulders.
He tightened the cuffs and checked the fit in the mirror.
Good.
He tied a simple tie, dark gray, and tucked it neatly into place. Shoes followed, it was a black leather. He bent slightly, tying the laces without calling for help.
When he straightened, he looked at his reflection again.
This wasn't how an Emperor was expected to dress outside the palace.
That was the point.
He wanted to see Paris in the eyes of a civilian.
