The Empire

Prologue

1789

Young France walked through the chaotic streets of Paris, which were filled with the noise of battle. People were shouting and shouting revolutionary slogans, throwing glass bottles, stones and heavy objects towards the soldiers. Overturned barricades and destroyed buildings could be seen in the street, and the smell of burning and blood was in the air.

France was confused and terrified as he tried to reach his destination. The sight of the destroyed bastille in the distance, surrounded by crowds of screaming revolutionaries, made him feel extra anxious. Nevertheless, he decided to continue his march through the city, focusing on his goal.

As France made his way through more streets, he noticed that the city was almost completely deserted, except for a group of people fighting with the soldiers. The others were taking cover in their homes to survive. From afar came the sound of church bells, calling for prayer and remembrance of those who had fallen in battle.

Paris was once a beautiful city, but had now become a place of devastation and despair. Destroyed buildings, covered in sandstone and with blackened bullet stains, loomed over the streets as a remnant of the city's former glory. Now, however, due to the chaos of the revolution, the city resembled more of a ruin and the streets had become an arena for bloody battles.

France finally reached the centre of the city, where the small palace he was heading to was located. Amidst the chaos, destruction and fighting, he realised that now the hardest part awaited him. Meeting his mother.

The Kingdom of France. She is a woman with a stern look who rarely smiles at her only son. Always busy with court intrigues and romances, she never had time for him. As a mother, she should love and care for her child but she does not.

Her appearance is always impeccable, but it is only a façade under which she hides her lack of warmth and maternal affection, which fully reveals her superficiality and lack of empathy. This always saddened France, especially the moment she found she couldn't even remember his name, either the one he wore as a country or the human one each of them had.

France walked slowly into the palace, struggling to climb the high flights of stairs. The building was huge and massive, but it was clear that it had suffered a fair amount of damage during the French Revolution. The ceilings had been punctured and chunks of plaster had fallen onto the floor, which was covered in a layer of dust and debris. His footsteps echoed through the marble corridors.

He walked slowly through the corridors of the dilapidated palace, which once held a dazzling splendour. Behold, remnants of the old days were still visible in the form of damaged paintings, gilded decorations and damaged sculptures. This mansion had once been synonymous with his mother's power and wealth, but now it resembled nothing more than a ruin.

France knew he had to come here to meet his mother, who had been imprisoned in the palace by soldiers loyal to him. As he passed them they all looked at him in silence, realising how difficult it would be for him to meet his mother. France felt his heart beat faster and his palms were sweaty from nerves.

Finally, he reached his destination. The large door to his mother's room stood open before him. There was some anxiety in France's step, but he knew he had to break through. He entered slowly, and pain and uncertainty were painted on his face. His mother looked at him from her seat, but did not greet him or smile.

France started to speak, but the words struggled to come out of his mouth. He did not know what to say to his mother, who had never shown him love or care. He looked at her with pain and understanding, but he already knew the answer to his questions. Disappointment and sadness grew in his heart, but at the same time he felt an inner strength and determination to overcome the past and start a new life.