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The door to the tavern opens and in walks a Lieutenat of Tirailleur Infantry. He takes his seat at a corner table, and when Helga approaches with her warm smile, he orders a bottle of wine and several glasses with which to share his libation with any who care to draw up a seat and join him.
It wasn't long before a fellow French officer did indeed join him. The newcomer's uniform marked him as a member of the Military Telegraph service. The Tirailleur, realizing that such officers were a valued source of information from through out the empire welcomed him with a glass, and while pouring the wine, asked him, "What news, sir?"
"Well, I have just come from the semaphore station where we sent off a message to Paris from a courier recently arrived from Neuchatel."
"Ah, most interesting," the Lieutenant said encouraging the fellow to continue.
"Perhaps you have heard of a certain gentleman from over the German frontier, who peddles the most vile propaganda, poking fun at the character and attributes of our beloved Empereur, and those Immortals that serve him with fine distinction."
"Oh yes, I've seen some of these tracts myself when on patrol through the countryside." And even here at times he said to himself.
"The man was warned to stop publishing such nonsense, but he kept on stirring up the people with such notions that they are better off without the Code Napoleon , or that the bygone days of feudalism and serfdom were a golden age."
"Absurd," the Lieutenant agreed, and took the opportunity to refill their glasses.
"Thank you," the officer said before continuing with his story. "At last L'Empereur could restrain his righteous indignation no more, and summoning Marechal Berthier to the Grand Hall of Mirrors (always a favorite salon of the nobility back in France), he ordered him to direct a detachment of Dragons to cross the border, that very night, and "seize this merchant of inflammatory broadsheets, putting an end to his infernal meddling in the peaceful natures of our subjects." Berthier affirmed the act would be accomplished with all due haste, and left upon the errand.
"Twas not many hours later that the Dragons, led in person by an Imperial ADC from the Grande Maison, wrapped in great cloaks to conceal their identities, did indeed cross the border. The passing of this dark company was cause for rumors thruout the countryside, and the peasants barred their doors and the village gates were closed.
"At last, arriving in Brunau, the Dragons surrounded the dwelling of their target, and upon bursting thru the entry way, caught him in the very act of transcribing his next diatribe. Having captured the loathsome scribe, the bundles of scribblings were bounded together as evidence of gross crimes, and the whole force swiftly retraced their path and brought the prisoner to the dungeon of Vincennes, where he is to be tried."
"Yes, a most interesting tale to be sure," says the Lieutenant, adding, "May the spoiler of our Empereur's good name and deeds be punished for his insidious provocations."
"He will be shot without a doubt," the officer said, draining the last of the wine in his glass.
"Hmm," the Tirailleur said thoughtfully. "I was thinking more along the lines of a long term spent cleaning the Imperial stables, or responsible for stoking the furnace which heats the pipes feeding the hot baths Le Tondu so much enjoys. Surely it is only on the field of martial contest that our foes are deserving of meeting a bullet."
"This provocateur chose the stage upon which he played, and L'Empereur draws no such distinction between his opponents: whether King, officer of the ranks, or propagandist, all foes shall be punished the same when caught." And with that the man stood up from the table and made ready to depart.
"What was the culprit's name again?" the Lieutenant asked.
"Palm." And with that the messenger was gone.
Last edited by Todd Schmidgall on Sun Mar 25, 2012 12:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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