Six hours had passed. The light outside had shifted from pale afternoon to the softer gold that came just before evening.
At the Palace of Versailles, Napoleon II stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the final preparations unfold.
Long tables stretched the length of the hall, draped in linen so white it caught the light and reflected it upward. Servants moved along them in steady lines, placing dishes with practiced precision. There was no rushing now. Only correction.
Bread baskets came first.
Not the coarse loaves most of France still knew, but soft white rounds, scored cleanly, their crusts thin and even. Steam escaped faintly when one was cut open, the interior light and elastic. Alongside them were darker loaves as well—rye, grain, fortified blends developed in imperial bakeries to last longer without losing texture.
Butter followed. Salted and unsalted. Kept cool in shallow porcelain trays.
Then the main dishes arrived.
