It was a somewhat gloomy afternoon in the hills of Illyria. Italian, French, and Bavarian troops and camp followers were seen gathered among the ports and harbors in the villages. They were having a grand time, going about their duties and various occasions among the influence of the French. On top of a hill, in a small office with artillery and troops nearby, there was France. She sat on a chair with her left leg rested atop a drum.

"J'en suis à la dernière goutte ici..."

France would mumble to herself after setting aside some papers and letters from many senders. She sat there, staring out the balcony, resting her head back and tilting her hat down to hide her eyes, attempting to rest with an annoyed sigh.