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Just before the battle, Napoleon – still trying to act out his best cool-under-fire impression – is chatting with his peeps about Paris and what he wants to do with the palace there.
After dinner he wants to go to rest up for the big day tomorrow, but he’s too stuffed to sleep.
Napoleon double checks the orders, but everything is all set and ready to go. He whines a bit about the fact that there isn’t yet a cure for the common cold (tell us about it), then whips up some deep-sounding nonsense about the art of war being “the art of being stronger than the enemy at a certain moment” (126.96.36.199).
After wandering about a bit, Napoleon chats up a soldier near his tent.
A few hours later he rides to the village of Shevardino, near the left flank of the Russian army. Shots ring out. Dun-dun-DUN! The battle has begun.