Outskirts of Paris
April 25th, 1836
The field had not existed a month ago.
Now it stretched wide and level beyond the edge of the city, a long strip of compacted earth cut clean through open ground. The surface had been rolled and reinforced, cleared of stone, graded to allow smooth acceleration. At one end stood a row of newly built hangars, steel frames with reinforced doors large enough to admit machines that had never existed before.
Workers moved along the edges, adjusting markers, checking the wind flags, clearing loose debris that might interfere with movement. Guards stood at a distance, not to control entry, but to keep the space secure.
The automobile slowed as it approached.
Napoleon II sat in the rear this time.
Napoleon I sat beside him.
Murat had insisted on coming, but this was not for him. Today was for one man.
Napoleon I watched the field through the window.
"This is not a parade ground," he said.
"No," Napoleon II replied. "It's something else."
