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Snow covered the streets and roofs of Paris. Outside, the City of Light was coming to life as the sun shone its first rays, barely warming up the cold air of January 1847. Charles Louis Napoléon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French, was having buttered bread, grilled bacon, and Algerian mandarin oranges with a cup of coffee for breakfast in his palace of the Tuileries.

“What news today, Alexandre?” The Emperor had his own daily routine, having his aide bring the latest relevant pieces of information to him in the morning.

“Good news from Africa, Sire. The empire of Morocco has capitulated to your demands and has agreed to stop supporting the rebels. Reports indicate that Abdelkader is fleeing east.”

“[i]Emir[/i] Abdelkader. What else?”

“A letter from Austria. For your eyes only.” The aide produced a sealed letter and handed it over to Napoléon.

He read it twice, then set it down on the table. “Brotherly heritage of the Caroligians… Old habits die hard,” he muttered.

“Sire?”

“Von Metternich wishes that Austria be friends with France, it seems. Or so he says.” The Emperor took a sip of coffee. “He speaks of friendship and prosperity, but there is hostility as well. The Austrians want us to believe that they blame our past enemies for the rivalries between us. Poor Austria was manipulated by the Russians, Prussians… British, most likely.”

“Do you believe them?”

“No. They want us to hate them slightly less than we hate all of our old enemies, this is the only truth I can see in this paper. That’s what matters.” A short pause followed. “Von Metternich also sent me a personal invitation to their… Conference on Track Gauges and Freight standards, as he puts it. And a visit of their country.”

“Would the Parliament approve?”

“The Parliament doesn’t need to know the exact contents of the letter. It will just be a tour of the conference. Everyone knows that I wish to develop railways further. And since Von Metternich offered to return my cousin’s remains to France, I cannot refuse. Nor can I send anyone else.”