Reincarnated as Napoleon II-Chapter 104: The Facilities

The Bonaparte family was escorted by the Vice-Admiral men towards the awaiting carriage parked outside of the Gare de Brest.

There, more people flooded their view, with more of them hands and flags, hoping to get noticed by the Imperial Family.

Napoleon II tried his best to acknowledge those calls for attention with a wave of the hand but there’s too many of them that he felt too bad that others weren’t acknowledged.

Inside the carriage that fit the entire Bonaparte family and Charles and Armand.

The Arsenal de Brest, which is a collection of naval and military buildings located on the banks of the river Penfeld. And it was used as a trading hub for commercial ships from different parts of the world. However, when the modernization efforts began, commercial ships couldn’t dock as it was being turned into a military port.

And looking out of the window, Napoleon II could see from his seat the modernization efforts taking shape. Gantry cranes towered over the waterfront, their steel frames stretching across wide construction pits. Thick cables hung from their arms, hooks swaying slightly in the sea breeze. They stood idle for the moment, waiting for loads that would one day weigh more than entire ships of the old era.

The carriage slowed as they rolled deeper into the Arsenal grounds.

To their right, a newly expanded dry dock opened into view. It was mostly empty—its reinforced concrete walls still raw in places, scaffolding clinging to the sides. At the bottom, workers were laying out alignment markers along the keel blocks. Steel beams rested nearby in organized stacks, tagged and measured, waiting for assembly.

Napoleon I leaned closer to the window.

"This is where they’ll build them?" he asked.

"Yes," Napoleon II replied.

Further along, another dock showed the earliest stage of a hull. A keel spine had been mounted across the support blocks, long and straight like the backbone of a creature not yet formed. Several rib frames stood bolted into place, skeletal and incomplete. Workers climbed between them, fastening braces and checking measurements with long gauges.

Even unfinished, the scale was apparent.

Napoleon I studied the structure in silence.

"That keel alone..." he murmured. "It’s longer than some ships I saw."

"And it will carry armor, engines, guns, and stores far beyond anything from your campaigns," Napoleon II said. "This is only the beginning of the frame."

Rail-mounted cranes traveled slowly along tracks parallel to the dock. Teams guided prefabricated steel sections into staging areas, where inspectors checked rivet holes and tolerances. Nothing moved quickly, but nothing stopped either. Each step followed strict sequencing.

The Vice-Admiral nodded toward a row of covered workshops.

"Armor plate forming. Shaft machining. Turbine housings," he said. "Most components are being fabricated inland while the docks are prepared. When the hull work accelerates, everything will already be staged."

Marie Louise watched workers moving in coordinated patterns below.

"It feels less like a port," she said, "and more like a factory."

"Good eye mother," Napoleon II said. "That’s going to be the look of most shipyards in France. You could only construct modern warships in this infrastructure layout. So what’s our first top, Vice-Admiral?"

"We are going to tour the factory that would make the screw shafts, engines, and propulsion assemblies," the Vice-Admiral finished. "It’s just ahead."

The carriage rolled past a guarded checkpoint and into a walled industrial complex.

When the carriage stopped, attendants opened the doors. Heat spilled out from the factory entrance, carrying the sharp smell of oil and fresh-cut steel.

They stepped inside.

The scale of the workshop was immediately apparent. The ceiling arched high above them, supported by steel trusses blackened by years of work. Overhead cranes moved along rails, lifting massive cylindrical sections that hung suspended by thick chains.

Napoleon I stopped just inside the threshold.

The sound hit him a second later.

A deep, metallic thud rolled through the floor, followed by a vibration that climbed up through his boots and into his chest. Conversations on the factory floor paused for a fraction of a second, then resumed as if the tremor were routine.

Napoleon I turned toward the source.

At the far end of the hall stood a machine so large it seemed part of the building itself.

A stamping press rose from the reinforced floor to nearly half the height of the ceiling. Its frame was a lattice of thick steel columns bolted into concrete foundations. Crossbeams locked the structure together, each joint riveted and plated. Hydraulic cylinders the size of artillery barrels lined its sides, pipes feeding into them in dense bundles.

Suspended beneath the press head was a glowing steel billet.

It rested in a heavy die cradle, clamped and centered. Even from a distance, heat shimmered around it.

The Vice-Admiral gestured toward the machine.

"Shaft forging press," he said. "Primary shaping for turbine shafts."

Another warning bell rang—short, sharp.

Workers stepped back behind painted safety lines. A foreman raised one arm and gave a downward signal.

The press descended.

The upper die met the billet with controlled force, compressing the metal in a slow, unstoppable motion. The impact produced a dull, thunderous report that echoed through the hall. The glowing steel bulged outward under pressure, reshaping within the die.

Napoleon I felt the vibration again, stronger this time.

"Mon Dieu..." he muttered.

The press lifted. Steam hissed from cooling lines. The billet rotated a few degrees on its supports, guided by two operators using long steel poles.

The bell rang again.

Another stroke.

Each cycle forced the billet closer to its final geometry—longer, denser, more uniform. Scale flaked off in dark sheets, swept aside by workers with hooked tools.

Napoleon II stepped closer to the observation rail.

"This is where the shaft gains its structure," he said. "Forged under pressure instead of cast. The grain aligns along the length. It resists torsion better that way."

Napoleon I watched the glowing mass stretch incrementally with each press.

"Amazing..."

An overhead crane rolled into position, chains lowering toward the billet. When the press completed its cycle, hooks locked into lifting collars. The shaft—now longer and more defined, rose slowly from the die.

Heat radiated off it in visible waves.

The crane operator guided it toward a cooling rack lined with rollers. Workers sprayed a controlled mist along its length. Steam erupted in thick clouds, then thinned.

"Vice-Admiral, please show to my family the other technological marvels similar to that stamping press in this facility."

The Vice-Admiral led them along the painted walkway, and the scale of the propulsion workshop unfolded in a continuous chain of machines, each dedicated to a specific stage of warship construction.

Immediately beyond the forging press stood a line of massive horizontal lathes. Newly forged shafts were mounted between reinforced supports while cutting heads advanced in slow, deliberate passes. These machines brought the raw steel down to precise diameters, removing excess material and establishing the alignment required for high-speed rotation.

Next came a series of dynamic balancing rigs. Each shaft rested on roller beds while instrumentation arms monitored vibration during controlled spins. Counterweights were added and surfaces adjusted until rotational imbalance fell within strict tolerances, ensuring smooth operation once installed in a ship’s propulsion line.

Heat-treatment furnaces occupied a walled section of the hall. Shafts were fed into long, insulated chambers where controlled heating cycles altered the metal’s internal structure. Cooling bays followed, where regulated airflow and mist systems stabilized the material, relieving stresses introduced during forging and machining.

Inspection stations lined the far side of the floor. Engineers used calibrated gauges, straightedges, and measurement frames to verify dimensions along the shaft length. Surface finishes were checked under bright lamps, and every reading was recorded before the component advanced to assembly.

Beyond inspection lay turbine assembly stands. Large housings sat open on reinforced mounts while technicians installed blade drums, bearings, and internal casings. Overhead cranes positioned heavy components with measured precision, allowing teams to align rotating elements that would convert steam pressure into mechanical motion.

Adjacent bays housed gear-cutting machines. Thick steel blanks were clamped into rotating fixtures while cutting tools carved precise tooth profiles. These reduction gears were essential for translating turbine speed into usable torque for the propeller shafts.

Pipe fabrication stations followed, where high-pressure steam lines were bent, flanged, and welded. Pressure-testing frames stood nearby, designed to validate structural integrity before installation aboard a vessel.

At the end of the line, completed shaft sections and turbine assemblies rested in transport cradles. Each component was tagged, sealed, and staged for delivery to the dry docks, where they would be integrated into hulls still taking shape outside.

It took them about thirty minutes to explore the area and now, Napoleon I asked.

"What does the ship look like?"

Napoleon II glanced at the Vice-Admiral. "Is there a design model?"

He nodded in confirmation.

"Very well, let’s see it."