It was October 15, 1815. In the original timeline, this is the time where Napoleon I would arrive in St. Helena where he'll spend the rest of his life there as an exiled statesman.
But in this timeline, he was with Napoleon I, they were on their way to a certain factory at Le Creusot to inspect something.
"So you were saying that this is the time I arrived on that desolate island huh? Those damn British, I'll get back on them the moment France regained its footing," Napoleon I said, clenching his fist. "Even if it didn't happen to me, the fact that it happened in another timeline made me want to invade their pitiful and depressing island and turn them into a colony."
"Now now father, calm yourself. There will be a time where we will beat the shit out of the British economically and militarily. And we are going to inspect those machines that we have ordered to be constructed a year ago."
"I know son, I really hope you introduce me to the wonders of modern weapons. If what you said was right, I don't have much time on this Earth."
"Father, just because you died in my timeline in 1821 doesn't mean you'll die on the same date. There are a lot of factors, one of which is the condition on where you were exiled," Napoleon II said. "Relax, you'll outlive my timeline."
"I have been taking care of my health since you told me about my death. I don't want to die yet. I am destined for more," Napoleon I said.
Napoleon II smiled, yes, he'll make sure that Napoleon I would see a modernized and industrialized France before he passed away.
The carriage stopped and the two of them looked out of the windows. It was a building made out of brick with black smoke billowing out of the chimney, a typical factory.
One of the Imperial Guards approached the carriage and opened the door. Napoleon II went out first, followed by Napoleon I.
Then a familiar figure stepped forward.
"Sire, Your Highness," it was Antoine Lefèvre, who bowed before them respectfully. "Your presence honors us," Antoine finished, straightening. "If you would follow me, Sire. Everything is ready."
He led them inside.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the air changed. Hotter. Heavier. It smelled of coal smoke, oil, and hot metal. The floor vibrated faintly underfoot, a steady pulse that didn't come from men.
Napoleon I noticed it immediately.
He stopped walking.
"What is that?" he asked.
Antoine smiled, just a little. "That, Sire, is the engine."
They rounded a corner, and it came into full view.
A massive iron machine dominated the center of the hall. Thick columns bolted into stone. A wide flywheel turning slowly, steadily. Pistons moving with a rhythm that felt deliberate, controlled. Steam hissed softly through valves, not violently, not wastefully.
Napoleon II watched his father's reaction closely.
Napoleon I said nothing at first.
The flywheel completed another rotation. No jerking. No sputtering. Just motion.
Antoine spoke carefully, like a man explaining something sacred.
"This is not a Newcomen engine," he said. "It uses a separate condenser. The cylinder stays hot at all times. Steam does the work. Not atmospheric pressure."
Napoleon stepped closer.
"How much coal?" he asked.
"Less than half of what the British engines consume," Antoine replied. "And it runs continuously."
Napoleon placed a hand against the iron housing. It was warm. Alive.
"One engine," Antoine continued, "drives the entire hall."
He gestured upward.
Overhead shafts ran the length of the ceiling. Belts dropped down from them, each one feeding a different machine.
They walked.
First stop: the lathe.
A heavy machine. Long bed. Thick frame. No decoration. A steel shaft spun slowly between centers while a cutting tool shaved it down, metal spiraling away in long curls.
Napoleon I watched the process.
Perfectly round.
No hammering. No guesswork.
Antoine spoke again. "We can reproduce shafts to the same size repeatedly. That was impossible before."
Next was the milling machine.
A rotating cutter bit into a block of iron fixed firmly to the table. Flat surfaces emerged where rough metal had been moments before.
Napoleon II nodded. This was the one he cared about.
Flat surfaces meant alignment. Alignment meant precision.
Then came the stamping press.
A heavy frame. A slow, deliberate cycle. The press descended, crushed heated metal into shape, then rose again.
Antoine raised his voice slightly over the noise.
"Once the die is made, every part is identical."
Napoleon turned his head sharply.
"Identical?"
"Yes, Sire."
That word lingered.
They passed drill presses next. Slow rotation. Heavy clamps. No man holding metal by hand. No missing fingers.
Napoleon I exhaled slowly.
"This is an army," he said.
Antoine hesitated. Then nodded. "An army of machines."
Napoleon II smiled faintly.
Then Delaunay stepped forward.
"Sire," he said. "If you will follow me."
They moved deeper into the factory, into a section cordoned off by thick stone walls.
The heat intensified.
At the center stood a massive vessel, tilted slightly, thick-walled, its interior glowing orange-white.
Napoleon I squinted.
"What is that?"
Delaunay didn't answer immediately.
Air roared upward through the molten metal. The sound was violent. Sparks burst out like fireworks. The surface of the metal foamed and writhed.
Napoleon took an involuntary step back.
Delaunay spoke over the noise.
"Pig iron," he said. "Impure. Brittle. Worthless for machines."
He pointed downward.
"Air is forced from below. Oxygen reacts with carbon, silicon, manganese. They burn off."
The roar intensified, then slowly began to subside.
The glow steadied.
"What remains," Delaunay continued, "is steel."
Napoleon stared.
"How long?" he asked.
"Minutes," Delaunay replied.
Napoleon turned to his son.
"Minutes," he repeated.
Napoleon II nodded. "Not hours. Not days."
Delaunay continued, voice tight with excitement now.
"We can produce more steel in one day than an entire region could before. And it is consistent."
Napoleon looked back at the converter.
"Cannons," he said quietly.
"This would change everything, Sire."
Napoleon was silent for a long time.
The machines kept working.
The engine kept turning.
Finally, Napoleon spoke.
"I want this machine working for the development of France. I want every sector industrialized. This is how we are going to make France an economic superpower in the continent. No, in the whole world!"
"Uhm, Sire, there's more too," Antoine said.
"What do you mean?"
Antoine flickered his gaze at Napoleon II and the two of them stared at one another as if they planned something.