Chapter 410 The Keg Exploded
January 18th, 1822. On the Russian flagship in the Ionian Sea. Admiral Orlov, standing on the deck, received an urgent update from one of his officers.
"Admiral, we've observed significant movement in the French fleet's artillery positioning. It appears they're preparing to engage the Ottoman forces."
"Monitor their movements closely. Inform me immediately if they open fire," he ordered, his tone reflecting the critical nature of the situation.
Despite the looming threat of engagement, Orlov maintained his composure. He was aware that any decision to retaliate against the French would escalate the situation into a full-scale naval battle, possibly drawing Russia into a broader conflict.
Meanwhile, on the French flagship, Admiral Trullet was in a state of high alert. After receiving orders from the Hexagone Balard to fire upon the Ottoman lines, he relayed the instructions to his crew. The French sailors, though apprehensive about the implications of their actions, readied themselves for combat under Trullet's command.
As the minutes passed, the French fleet's readiness to fire heightened the tension in the Ionian Sea. Admiral Trullet, aware of the weight of his responsibility, gave the final order to fire. The first salvo erupted from the French ships, lighting up the night sky and sending projectiles hurtling toward the Ottoman lines.
Admiral Orlov, upon witnessing the French engagement, knew that the time for restraint was over. "Return fire," he commanded. The Russian fleet responded, targeting the French ships as per their orders.
The volleys arced over the dark waters, marking the beginning of a heated exchange between the two fleets. The night sky was soon illuminated by the fiery trails of shells and the flashes of artillery fire.
On the Russian flagship, Orlov directed his fleet with precision. His orders were clear and concise, aimed at crippling the French offensive while minimizing risk to his own ships.
"Aim for their main artillery decks," he commanded. The Russian gunners, trained for such moments, adjusted their aim accordingly.
The French fleet, under Trullet's command, was quick to respond. They maneuvered to evade the incoming fire. Now that they have fired on the Ottomans, it is time for the fleet to turn their attention towards the Russian ships.
The French battleships and cruisers repositioned, angling their artillery towards the Russian vessels. And then from there on, an exchange of fire ensued for hours.
***
Two o'clock in the morning, at the Palace of Versailles. Napoleon was sleeping in his bedroom. His arms wrapped around Ciela, and his leg on top of hers. It looked like a peaceful moment for the Emperor and the Empress of the French Empire. Until—.
There was a sudden banging on the door.
"Your Imperial Majesty! Your Imperial Majesty!"
A shout from outside the door roused Napoleon from his sleep. He sat up quickly, disentangling himself from Ciela.
"Enter," he called out, his voice firm despite the abrupt awakening.
Armand, visibly distressed, hurried into the room. "Your Imperial Majesty, urgent news from the Ionian Sea. The French and Russian fleets have engaged in combat. The situation is escalating rapidly and we are certainly at war with the Russians."
Napoleon's expression hardened as he processed the news. So Tsar Paul I didn't back down on his words huh?
"I'll head to the Hexagon Ballard as soon as I get dressed. Prepare the car for sudden departure and I want a direct line with Saint Petersburg," Napoleon instructed Armand, quickly moving to get dressed.
"Understood, Your Majesty. Everything will be ready," Armand replied, quickly leaving the room to carry out the orders.
While preparing himself with his clothes, Ciela stirred from her lumber, looking at Napoleon with concern. "What's happening?"
"It's the Ionian Sea. We're at war with Russia now," Napoleon replied,?his tone serious as he buttoned his military jacket.
Upon hearing that, Ciela jolted up in bed, her eyes wide with alarm. "War with Russia? So they fired on our ship?"
Napoleon nodded solemnly as he continued dressing. "Yes. I'm heading to the Hexagon Ballard to lead the war as the commander-in-chief. As for you my darling, you'll have to wake up early in the morning so you can address the people of France about this sudden development."
"We are going to announce to the people we are at war with Russia?" Ciela asked.
"Yes, it's inevitable now. The public must be informed, and they need to hear it from their leaders," Napoleon replied as he fastened the last button on his jacket. "They need to know the situation and our commitment to defending the nation."
Ciela nodded understandingly. "I will prepare a speech and address the nation."
"Thank you, darling," Napoleon walked over to the bed and planted a kiss on her forehead before quickly leaving the room. He knew there was no time to waste; the situation required his immediate attention.
Arriving at the Hexagone Balard, Napoleon was met with a flurry of activity. His advisors and military personnel were gathered, discussing the latest reports from the Ionian Sea. They all stopped upon seeing him and bowed their heads in respect as he entered.
Napoleon swiftly moved to the center of the room, where a large map of the Mediterranean was spread out.
"Report the current status," he commanded.
Grand Admiral, Marshal Murat was the first to speak. "Your Imperial Majesty, we have sunk a quarter of their fleet while losing two ships on our side. The battle remained intense and it's been dragging for almost two hours."
"Two hours?" Napoleon repeated. "For a naval battle to last that long with sophisticated weaponry, it seems that both fleets are trained exceptionally well. Very well, prepare our army for mobilization. I want them prepped and ready in the next few hours. Alert our allies as well and keep them informed of the situation. We might need their support if this escalates further."
"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. We will begin preparations immediately," Marshal Berthier said.
"Your Imperial Majesty, I have the Emperor of Russia on the line," Armand walked over to Napoleon, carrying a tray with a telephone on it.
Napoleon's expression turned serious. "Thank you, Armand," he said, taking the phone. "Put him through."
The room fell silent as Napoleon prepared to speak with Tsar Paul I.
"Paul…this is Napoleon. So you really abide by your words huh?"
"You left me with no choice, Napoleon. You forced my hand," Paul said.
"So you have no intention of de-escalating this conflict?" Napoleon asked.
"No. I won't tolerate France's imperialistic actions any longer. A state of war exists between Russia and France."
"Is that so…" Napoleon mused. "Then so be it!"
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