Chapter 50: In the Name of Napoleon (Requesting Monthly Votes)

Lionel was also quite surprised. The administration of the Sorbonne had always been quite strict; visitors were required to dismount at the gates unless riding in the Dean's carriage, leaving the vehicle to be parked by servants or guards.

One had to walk into the campus together with the students and teachers.

Yet this carriage was able to break the rules and drive straight inside; its occupant undoubtedly possessed an extraordinary identity.

At that moment, someone edged closer to him and said with an envious tone, "How magnificent..."

Lionel turned his head to look, and as expected, it was Albert de Rohan—who had recently been lingering around him on every possible occasion—and asked, "Who is that?"

Albert shook his head. "Not sure—but one can guess."

He then pointed toward the departing carriage. "Did you not see the crest on their carriage door?"

By this time, the carriage had already gone far away. Even without the nine-diopter myopia from his past life, Lionel would not have been able to see it clearly.

Albert said with a trace of smugness, "The golden Imperial Eagle, the crossed scepters, the bees, the crown... What do you think?"

Lionel was startled. "The House of Napoleon?"

What Albert had just described was precisely the coat of arms belonging to the First French Empire, also known as the Napoleonic Empire, which was concurrently the emblem of the House of Bonaparte.

Although the Second Empire had collapsed ten years ago and the Third Republic government had tried its utmost to erase any trace of this emblem's former existence, there was no escaping the fact that nineteenth-century French history was inextricably and tightly bound to the Bonaparte family, leaving the symbol still ubiquitous everywhere.

However, actually using this emblem was an entirely different matter; probably only members of the Napoleonic family could do so without incurring public animosity.

Lionel recalled and said somewhat uncertainly, "Aren't Empress Eugenie and Napoléon Eugène both in England? Can the Bonaparte family still appear in Paris with such impunity?"

Albert thought to himself that it was finally his turn to show off, so he coughed slightly and began to enlighten Lionel: "Although His Majesty Napoleon III took the Empress and the Prince Imperial to England to hunt in the west, there are still many members of the Emperor's family living here.

"In France, in Paris, there is still no shortage of supporters for the Bonaparte family. Under a republican system, as long as one has supporters, one can win votes; and being able to win votes naturally brings status...

"Perhaps some of them are living even better now than when the Empire still existed."

At this, Albert could not help letting out a cold chuckle.

Indeed, quite a few "marginalized figures" within the Bonaparte family had been living comfortably and even serving as members of parliament ever since Napoleon III fled to England.

Lionel had no interest in the complex entanglements between French politics and the Bonaparte family, and brushed off his clothes. "Understood, thank you for the explanation. Come on, let's go to class."

Albert had not expected Lionel to react with such apathy, and had to quicken his pace to catch up with him. "Hey, Leon, you still take the omnibus to the Sorbonne—it's making me lose face.

"Why don't you take my carriage to class starting tomorrow? I can have the coachman pick you up first..."

Lionel refused without a second thought. "The omnibus is quite nice! It's crowded and warm!"

Albert refused to give up. "Spring is here now, the weather is about to turn hot..."

Lionel replied, "I can sit on the roof of the carriage, catch the breeze, and stay cool!"

Albert had no choice but to shut his mouth awkwardly.

Lionel looked back at him, sighed inwardly, and finally offered an explanation: "I will buy my own carriage in the future."

Albert's eyes lit up, and he quickly chimed in, "Are newspapers commissioning work from you now? I heard *The Gaul* pays the highest rates, one franc per line. As long as you write another piece like *The Old Guard*, you can—

"Hey, wait for me..."

Lionel's class did not last very long. At the end of the very first session, he spotted the familiar figure of Registrar Mr. Dunn: "Leon, the Dean requests your presence in his office."

Lionel could not help feeling that an increasing number of people had started calling him by his nickname, "Leon," lately...

He suddenly recalled what a celebrity in his past life had once said: "Do not blame the lack of good people around you; once you become famous, everyone around you is a good person!"

He was only moderately famous now, but the "good person content" among his teachers and classmates was visibly increasing.

Following in Dunn's footsteps, he walked all the way to Dean Henry Patin's office—the last time he had been here was over a month ago, accompanied by Albert.

Mr. Dunn knocked on the door, then pushed it open, stepping aside to let Lionel enter.

As soon as he stepped inside, Lionel saw a man of about thirty sitting stiffly on the sofa. The man had thick, naturally wavy black hair; sharply defined facial features, a high bridge of the nose, thin yet arrogant lip lines, and a slightly pointed chin that exuded an almost indifferent resoluteness.

His figure was exceptionally tall and upright, as if he were naturally born to wear military uniforms and formal attire—and indeed, he was wearing a "semi-formal dress" of imperial style, a military academy-style dark blue uniform with polished silver buttons, gold braid symbolizing honor on his shoulders, and a bee-shaped brooch pinned to his left chest.

That was the secret symbol passed down through the family—the bee, the emblem of the Empire's eternity.

Dean Henry Patin introduced him: "This is the author of *The Old Guard*, Lionel Sorrel, from the Alps, and one of the finest students in the second year of the Faculty of Arts."

Before the Dean could introduce the young man on the sofa to Lionel, the latter stood up and extended his hand to Lionel. "Victor Jérôme Louis Napoléon Bonaparte, son of Napoleon-Joseph Charles Paul Bonaparte, nephew of His Imperial Majesty Napoleon III, and cousin of His Imperial Majesty Napoleon IV."

The long string of names left Lionel's head spinning, but he still politely extended his hand to shake his. "Good morning, Mr. Bonaparte."

He discovered that this young man's hand was unusually soft, hardly feeling like a man's at all—"Seems like all show and no substance!" Lionel thought to himself.

Victor Bonaparte's brow twitched imperceptibly, as if he were displeased with the overly republican address of "Mr. Bonaparte" and Lionel's unservile tone.

Dean Henry Patin added, "Victor's father, Mr. Charles Bonaparte, is currently a senator. He is here today on account of your piece, *The Old Guard*."

He then motioned for Lionel to sit, while taking a seat himself in the armchair opposite the main host's chair.

Victor Bonaparte did not sit down. He scanned Lionel up and down with a critical gaze, much like evaluating an unsatisfactory piece of merchandise just presented by a servant.

"Mr. Sorrel," his voice carried a deliberately cultivated, condescending flatness, "your work, ah, *The Old Guard*, is a... striking piece of fiction."

He picked up the opened copy of the *Sorbonne Faculty Bulletin* on the table, his fingertip gently tapping against the title of *The Old Guard*. "Frankly speaking, its literary value... well, Mr. Hugo's praise perhaps possesses a poet's exaggeration.

"Yet it cannot be denied that it has provoked certain... repercussions."

Lionel remained silent, waiting for what would come next. Dean Patin attempted to smooth things over: "Victor, this is truly a masterpiece, your father also said..."

Victor Bonaparte raised a hand to interrupt Dean Henry Patin, his sharp gaze locking onto Lionel. "Repercussions, Mr. Sorrel, are the key. That 'old guard' of your pen, though fictional, unexpectedly strikes at the pain of a group deliberately forgotten by the Republic—

"Those imperial veterans who bled for the French eagles, only to wither away now in poverty and oblivion, especially the elite guardsmen."

Lionel gave a noncommittal response, leaning back slightly in his seat without showing any sign of pleasant surprise.

Victor Bonaparte suddenly took a step forward, closing the distance to Lionel, and spoke in an irrefutable yet patronizing tone: "In the name of the great Napoleon, you have earned the friendship of the House of Bonaparte!"

Following that, he stared intently into Lionel's eyes, waiting for him to express his acceptance of this "friendship" with an excited tone.