Clash of Empires
“Ney is seated in the commander’s office of the fort. A narrow window gives a view of the harbor, and the sea beyond where the English warships prowl like hungry dogs.
Thibault enters without introduction or pomp, thrusting open the door and marching inside.
“General Thibault,” Ney says. “I am busy, but if you would care to come back when—”
“I have assumed control of the army, and soon will be appointed emperor of France and all her territories,” Thibault says.
His soldiers fan out around the room, their hands resting on their pistols.
“I think Napoléon would take a dim view of that,” Ney says calmly.
“He would if he still drew breath,” Thibault says. “He was shot and killed by a British prisoner not ten minutes ago. I have little time to waste. I need to know if you will pledge your support and loyalty to me.”
“That is something I could take under consideration,” Ney says. “We will certainly need a new leader if what you say is true. But you are a mere general.”
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