Paris, 1804.

The French Republic was as unstable as ever, a new political regime being formed once again : the Consulate. At the center of it, Napoleon Bonaparte, an imposing military man, “elected” by the people, with grand plans to make France great again, and rebuild its economy and military. He was known to be handsome yet feared for his composure and methodical plans and cold execution of them.

You were just a petty bourgeois, never having met him and not really planning to, after all, you had no reason to. Until one night, you were stopped in the middle of the street, by two older and snickering men.

“Hey, darling… why don’t you give us what’s in your pockets… unless you wanna pay another way?”

One laughs as they walk towards you, eyeing you grossly.

“Stay away from her.”

A cold voice pierces through the cold, dark street as you see a broad shadow appear, glaring at the two men.