"Now for the last one of the scientists that I have invited," Napoleon I said as he faced Berthollet.
"He is a chemist right?" Napoleon II inquired.
"Yes, he is a chemist, expertise on gunpowder, like I have said before," Napoleon I replied.
"Your Majesty, I must say that this is quite an interesting discourse with His Grace. He really has an exceptional and brilliant mind to know such advanced scientific concepts. France would really have a bright future once he succeeded you," Berthollet said with praise.
Napoleon I simply smiled.
Napoleon II meanwhile contemplated. He hadn't expected to meet a chemist so soon as he doesn't have anything for him to produce like the first two. He was focused on the foundation of industrial revolution and most of the chemist's works industrially rely on mechanical systems that would soon be worked on by the metallurgist.
But a chemist was still a good roster. He might be able to teach him about the Haber-Bosch process, an industrial method for synthesizing ammonia which could be used for gunpowder, explosives, fertilizers, and other chemicals. But in this era or decade, it would be impossible without the foundations that did not yet exist.
Things like high pressures, controlled temperatures. Catalysts refined to precision. Industrial compressors. None of those were things France possessed.
So perhaps, he could start from a simple one. Then, his mind wandered for the daily necessities that humans needed.
And then he remembered something.
The hygiene of the people of this era. People rarely bathe and there's not much hygiene product about hygiene. And even if there was, it was a dangerous concoction mixed by guesswork and superstition.
"Berthollet," he said.
The chemist straightened at once. "Yes, Your Highness?"
"I need you for soap."
The word landed oddly in the room.
Antoine glanced at Delaunay. Delaunay frowned.
"Soap?" Napoleon repeated, testing it.
"Yes," Napoleon II said. "Real soap. Not lye sludge. Not scented grease sold to nobles. Something safe. Repeatable. And cheap."
Berthollet's eyes sharpened. "Soap already exists."
"Barely," Napoleon II replied. "And it burns skin as often as it cleans it."
He stepped closer to the table and placed his small hand flat on the wood.
"Most people do not bathe," he continued. "Not because they don't want to. Because what they use damages them. Caustic lye. Animal fat boiled without control. There was no standardization and quality control."
Napoleon's expression darkened slightly. He had marched armies through villages that smelled of rot and sickness. He had seen typhus spread faster than cavalry.
"Hygiene," Napoleon II said, "is infrastructure. It's a brilliant idea."
"Well I don't have much experience on soap."
"It doesn't matter, you are a chemist by trade correct? You can simply apply chemistry and you'll make it. But it's long and I don't intend to recite it here. So I'll just give you a list tomorrow where you'll see the ingredients and instructions to make one. And it's not going to be just soap, there'd be shampoo, toothpaste, and deodorant. We are going to make a health revolution in France. People with good hygiene would make a good population," Napoleon II said.
"A workforce that doesn't rot from infection. Soldiers who don't lose fingers to small cuts. Cities that don't stink themselves into disease," he added.
"Okay, hygiene. But my son, is there anything that we can use for the military?" Napoleon I asked.
There his father goes again. Heading straight for the military.
"There are, father, but it's not possible yet. We have to change the standard of living of our people from the very basic."
"But you have something up your sleeves, correct?"
"I do. Don't worry father, we'll get to your favorite subject soon once everything, the steam engines and the machineries and tools were created in the workshops of France. For now, the foundation. Hmm, I think that would be all. I'll also send documents to Monsieur de Prony and Delaunay for their instructions."
Napoleon I faced the three personnel. "You heard my son, you'll receive your correspondence in due time for your work. I will have my secretary be in touch with you for the funds that you'll need to make my son's vision turn into reality. Do not fail me," Napoleon finished.
The three of them stood firm but inwardly, they were gulping their saliva. It is a work from the Emperor of France himself. They can't let him down.
Berthollet bowed his head slightly. "We won't, Sire."
"Dismissed," Napoleon I said.
The word ended the meeting.
Berthollet bowed first, hand to his chest. "We will begin immediately, Sire."
Delaunay followed, stiff-backed, already lost in thought. Antoine lingered a second longer, eyes flicking once more to the scattered sketches on the table, then to the child who had upended his understanding of what a prince could be. He bowed sharply and stepped back.
Boots scraped softly against the floor as the three men turned and left. The door closed behind them with a muted thud, sealing the room.
Silence settled.
Napoleon remained standing near the table, hands resting on the edge, staring at nothing in particular. Napoleon II stayed where he was, small hands clasped behind his back, waiting. He had learned not to fill silences with words when dealing with his father.
At last, Napoleon spoke.
"You know," he said, without turning, "most men would have come to me with cannons."
Napoleon II answered evenly. "Most men think power begins at the battlefield."
Napoleon nodded once. "And you think it begins in the washbasin."
A corner of Napoleon II's mouth twitched. "If soldiers don't die from infection, you don't need to replace them as often."
That earned a quiet breath of amusement.
Napoleon turned and looked down at him. Not as an emperor. As a man measuring something unfamiliar.
"You didn't hesitate," he said. "Not once. Even when they doubted you."
"They didn't doubt me," Napoleon II replied. "They doubted the idea. That's easier to fix."
Napoleon studied him for a long moment.
"You and I are going to make France strong as it was once before," Napoleon I said.
"Even stronger than what you imagined father," Napoleon II said.