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Two weeks had passed since Napoleon's arrival at Château de Chantilly, and he found himself under the careful care of Ciela.

In the opulent dressing room, adorned with mirrors and luxurious fabrics, Ciela meticulously attended to Napoleon's wardrobe. She had crafted an array of suits tailored specifically for him. As the final touches were made, she stepped back to admire her work.

A warm smile graced her lips as she surveyed Napoleon's figure in the perfectly fitted suit.

"Now, you truly look regal and handsome," Ciela commented with genuine admiration.

Napoleon looked at his reflection in the gilded mirror, his sharp eyes assessing the image that stared back at him. The gray three-piece suit accentuated his commanding presence, the tailored fit emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. The black dress shirt, contrasting against the muted tones, added a touch of mystery and allure.

"Well, I kind of admit, this is truly a nice suit you made," Napoleon remarked. "So this is what powerful and rich people wear in your era huh?"

"Yes, and I have made more for you, Napoleon," Ciela said, her voice soft and filled with warmth, as she embraced him from behind. "Consider it my gesture of gratitude for enduring nine rounds with me," she added playfully.

Napoleon turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting Ciela's in the mirror's reflection. A spark of amusement danced in his gaze as he caught her teasing tone.

"Next time, please go easy on me okay? I don't think I might be able to serve the French Army if you destroy my hips," Napoleon chuckled.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle," Ciela responded, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. "I wouldn't want to jeopardize your ability to lead the French Army with aching hips."

Napoleon laughed a rare moment of lightness in his otherwise weighty existence. Ciela's playful banter had become a welcome respite from the demands of his position.Napoleon cleared his throat and spoke. "So, you have prepared what I ask for right?"

Ciela nodded. "Yes, they are in the train depot, waiting for our arrival. We should get going now."

Ciela glanced over her shoulder and called. "Mr. Beaumont. Please have our carriage ready for our departure."

"Understood, Mademoiselle," Beaumont's voice sounded from beyond the dressing room door.

As Napoleon and Ciela left the opulent sanctuary of the dressing room, they were greeted by Beaumont. He stood beside an elegant carriage, its deep blue exterior gleaming under the afternoon sun. Beaumont opened the carriage door and Napoleon extended his hand to assist Ciela, guiding her gracefully into the carriage before following suit.

As they settled into their seats, the door closed behind them, and horses started pulling the carriage forward with a gentle jolt. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on the cobblestone streets created a soothing symphony, setting the pace for their journey.

Inside the carriage, Napoleon was reading his notebooks filled with technical drawings. Ciela nestled closer to Napoleon as he perused the pages, her head resting gently against his shoulder.

"What rifle design have you come up with? May I see?" Ciela asked, peeking at the intriguing sketches that captured Napoleon's attention.

"This," he said, tracing his finger along the lines, "is the prototype for the new bolt-action rifle. According to the broad information that you gave me last fortnight about weapons, it will feature a design that is beyond this era. Ever since the war started, the French Army and even our enemy have been competing to create a new weapon that will give them an advantage over their adversaries. This rifle, if built, is going to be a game-changer."

"I'm sorry if I can only give you broad details and not specifics," Ciela said.

"It's fine, I already took care of it."

Napoleon's weapon design took inspiration from Krag–Jørgensen repeating bolt-action rifles that he had studied, in his system, during his time in Château de Chantilly. It incorporated a simplified bolt mechanism that would allow for faster cycling and reloading. In addition, the barrel will be rifled with precision grooves to improve accuracy and extend the effective range of the rifle.

Now, although Ciela had helped in various ways, he couldn't fully utilize the blessings granted to him by the Goddess as it would reveal his true identity. He wanted to address this as soonest time possible so he can introduce more advanced concepts to this world that would help him to rise up the ranks.

One hour later, the couple made it to Paris and arrived at the motive power depot. The air was thick with the scent of steam and the rhythmic sound of machinery. The depot buzzed with activity as engineers, machinists, and workers moved with purpose among the massive locomotives and carriages.

Napoleon and Ciela stepped out of the carriage, their eyes scanning the bustling scene before them. The depot was a sprawling complex of railway tracks, maintenance sheds, towering water tanks, and hoisted locomotives. Steam billowed from the locomotives, creating an ethereal mist that hung in the air.

They were met by a depot supervisor, a middle-aged man with a weathered face and a worn cap perched atop his head. He approached with a clipboard in hand, giving them a respectful nod.

"General, mademoiselle," the supervisor greeted. "Welcome to the Paris motive power depot. We have been eagerly waiting for your arrival."

"Henri," Napoleon called. "Are the machinists we asked for a present?"

"Yes sir, although on duty, I could get them for you in a moment," Henri replied, his voice filled with a sense of urgency. He quickly motioned to a group of machinists who were working on a nearby locomotive, signaling them to approach.

The machinists, dressed in greased overalls and holding various tools, approached Napoleon and Ciela with a mix of curiosity and respect. They had heard of the arrival of the great General Napoleon Bonaparte, and now they stood before him, ready to lend their expertise.

"Allow me to introduce them," Henri said, extending his arm towards the machinists. "This is Etienne, our expert in lathe work. Pierre specializes in operating the milling machine, and Jacques is skilled in the art of forging. Whatever you want them to build, they'll be able to bring your vision to life," Henri explained.

Napoleon nodded approvingly, his eyes scanning the dedicated machinists before him. Their calloused hands and determined expressions spoke of their expertise and dedication to their craft. Those men started working in their company when it was born. They have nine years of experience so Henri's word was not an exaggeration but a fact.

"I will get straight to the point, I want you three to build something for me," he said, pulling out his notebook and flipping to a specific page. He showed them a technical drawing of every part of the Krag–Jørgensen 1895 carbine. "This is a new type of rifle that you are going to create. You have one week."

Etienne, Pierre, and Jacques leaned in, their eyes scanning the intricate drawings with a mix of awe and determination.

"Sir, it appears that the rifles you drew are quite different from other designs. Is this a musket?"

"Nope," Napoleon shook his head. "As I have said, this is a new type of rifle. It's called a bolt-action rifle. Also, take a look at this," he flipped a page, showing an intricate drawing of the 8×58mmRD cartridge. I want you to make 100 of these, same deadline. Of course, I would be with you during the creation to supervise it. Should you manage to complete it on time, I will pay you two months of your salary…"

Etienne, Pierre, and Jacques exchanged glances, a mix of excitement and determination gleaming in their eyes. To be entrusted with such an important project by General Napoleon Bonaparte was an honor they could hardly fathom.

"Sir, we accept the job," Etienne said, his voice filled with determination. "We will give it our all to complete this rifle and the cartridges within the given timeframe."

Napoleon nodded approvingly. "Excellent. I have full confidence in your abilities. Now, let's discuss how to make it from the ground up."