After their trip around Paris, Napoleon I ordered the carriage to return to the Tuileris Palace. Upon arrival, the Imperial Guards present opened the door for them.
Napoleon II was the first to disembark, followed by Napoleon I.
"I'll be in my office now," Napoleon I said. "You return to your room and finish your studies."
Napoleon I didn't actually mean Napoleon II to finish his studies, he meant that he worked on the plan for reconstruction of the city of Paris.
"Will do Father," Napoleon II replied before heading inside to the Tuileris Palace and into his bedroom.
He walked over to his desk and pulled a chair and sat on it. The memories about how Paris was renovated was still fresh in his mind. So it's best that he worked on it before he could forget about it.
He pulled a stack of blank paper toward him and dipped the pen in ink.
He didn't start with drawings.
He started with rules.
Paris could not be rebuilt by decoration. That was the mistake most rulers made. Adding monuments without fixing the structure beneath only made the rot harder to clean later.
So the first thing he wrote was simple.
Ownership.
Paris, as it existed now, was a mess of private claims layered on top of medieval streets. Houses built over drains. Shops blocking roads. Entire alleys owned by families who could barely prove where their walls ended.
Reconstruction could not begin unless the state had the right to take land.
He wrote another line.
Expropriation with compensation.
Not confiscation. That would cause revolt. The model used later was clear: the state declared certain areas "necessary for public works," bought them at fixed rates, and cleared them completely. Owners were paid. Not generously, but fairly enough to prevent mass resistance.
He underlined it once.
This had to be done through law, not force.
Next came administrative control.
Paris could not be rebuilt while being governed as a loose collection of districts. It needed centralized authority. One office. One plan. One chain of command.
In the future, this role belonged to the Prefect of the Seine.
He wrote the title down.
Prefect of Paris – absolute authority over urban planning.
No committees arguing for years. No guild vetoes. No church interference. Decisions flowed downward.
Then came the real work.
He turned the page.
Streets.
Paris did not need more streets.
It needed fewer, wider ones.
He sketched a rough outline of the city. Not detailed. Just the river. The palace. Major districts.
Then he began drawing lines.
Straight ones.
First priority: east to west.
A wide boulevard connecting the western districts to the center. Wide enough for four lanes of traffic. Trees on both sides. Buildings set back uniformly.
This would later resemble the axis that cut through the city under Haussmann.
Second priority: north to south.
Another major avenue cutting through dense neighborhoods. It would destroy entire blocks. That was unavoidable.
He wrote beside it.
Minimum width: 30 meters.
Ideal width: 40 meters.
Wide streets were not just for beauty.
They allowed air to move.
They allowed sunlight to reach the ground.
They allowed soldiers and artillery to pass without obstruction.
He paused for a moment, then added another note.
Barricades impossible on streets wider than 20 meters.
That mattered.
Next came intersections.
Old Paris intersections were chaotic. Streets met at odd angles. Traffic stalled. Crowds packed tightly.
He wrote:
Intersections must be planned nodes, not accidents.
Major avenues must meet at squares. Open spaces. Circular plazas if possible. Landmarks placed at the center or at the end of sightlines.
He drew small circles where lines crossed.
From one square, you should be able to see the next.
That was the rule.
Then came infrastructure beneath the street.
He flipped another page.
Sewers first. Roads second. Buildings last.
He wrote it again, slower.
Sewers first.
Paris's greatest problem wasn't how it looked.
It was what flowed under it.
Open gutters. Waste dumped into the Seine. Drinking water drawn downstream from where people relieved themselves.
He drew two parallel systems.
One for waste.
One for clean water.
They never crossed.
Sewers large enough for men to walk through. Arched stone. Sloped properly so waste moved without constant cleaning.
Clean water brought in from outside the city. Aqueducts. Reservoirs. Gravity-fed where possible.
He wrote another note.
No wells inside dense districts. Ever.
Next: buildings.
Uniformity mattered more than decoration.
He wrote:
Maximum height proportional to street width.
Tall buildings on narrow streets trapped air and light. That created disease.
In the future, Haussmann enforced strict height limits.
Napoleon II copied that logic.
Stone façades.
Aligned windows.
Balconies on specific floors only.
Not because it looked nice, but because it standardized construction. Fires spread slower. Repairs were easier. Streets looked ordered.
Order mattered.
Then came parks.
He drew large green shapes on the map.
Not royal gardens.
Public parks.
Large ones, placed deliberately at intervals.
Green space reduced disease. Reduced unrest. Gave people somewhere to exist without clogging streets.
Finally, he wrote the last heading.
Phasing.
Paris could not be rebuilt all at once.
He numbered the steps.
Legal framework for land appropriation
Sewer and water construction
Major east–west and north–south boulevards
Secondary streets feeding into main arteries
Standardized housing blocks
Public buildings and monuments last
He leaned back slightly.
This was not something that could be finished in his father's lifetime.
But it didn't need to be.
It only needed to start.
Napoleon II looked at the pages spread across his desk.
This was how Paris became Paris.
As for the design, he'd show them to the architects and engineers who would work on this project.