Reincarnated: Vive La France-Chapter 57: "We might be standing on the wrong shore.”

The committee chamber was cold.

Too cold.

Étienne Moreau sat still in the chair placed precisely in the center of the room no desk before him, no glass of water offered.

Just isolation.

Twelve men sat across from him, silent and stiff.

But all had the same expression.

Serious and Sharp.

Colonel Valois sat at the center, fingers tented beneath his chin.

To his right, Lieutenant Colonel Drouet, twitchy and tight-jawed, leafed through a file with a pen tapping against it in sharp rhythm.

At the far left sat Major General Beauchamp, a man of few words so far, but whose presence carried the most weight yet sitting so far away and alone.

Moreau glanced at him twice and understood that he is the master of all this and for some reason he wants to test him.

This game is getting Intersting.

Valois broke silence after hearing his unconventional answer of being ready.

"Capitaine Moreau. You may relax."

Moreau remained upright. "Thank you, Colonel. But I'll stand for truth. Even when seated."

Since he knows they are here to ambush him, he is not giving to give them any satisfaction of catching a easy prey.

Valois's mouth twitched. "Let us hope truth stands with you, then."

He opened a folder marked in red: Verdun-Internal Security Audit.

"You were stationed under Colonel Perrin, responsible for overseeing armored exercises in Verdun. Correct?"

"Yes."

"You were given logistical command over a training unit with authorization for strategic evaluations not combat readiness trials. Your orders were to patrol and as I can see during mission you were given another order to fall back."

"That was the order," Moreau said. "Reality demanded more."

Valois looked up. "Reality?"

"There were signs. Patrols missing. Border activity. Intelligence slow to respond. I acted to secure my men."

Drouet's pen stopped tapping. "And in doing so, led them into an unauthorized engagement that left twenty one dead and dozens wounded."

Moreau's voice remained steady. "Yes. We were ambushed. By traitors. Disguised in French uniform. Embedded in French command."

"You call them traitors," Drouet said. "Yet where is the trial? The paperwork?"

Moreau looked at him. "Would you like me to ask the bullets for a witness statement, Colonel?"

A few of the committee members looked around suprise by his words.

Beauchamp finally spoke, calm and slow. "The executions. Public. In front of the entire base. Who gave the order?"

"General Delon," Moreau answered. "He conducted the trials personally, and passed judgment."

Valois's tone sharpened. "And yet, weeks later, we have whispers of you being the one responsible. Of you orchestrating the purge."

"That's convenient," Moreau replied. "For someone trying to hang the crime without touching the rope." frёeωebɳovel.com

Drouet leaned forward, voice cold. "Watch your tone, Capitaine. This is not the front. We are not your men."

"No," Moreau said quietly. "You're not."

Beauchamp watched him carefully. "You believe the military chain of command has been compromised."

"I know it has," Moreau replied. "I've seen it. Men using the uniform to smuggle weapons, to stage attacks. To kill fellow soldiers to protect secrets I wasn't meant to uncover."

Valois's fingers tapped together. "You offer theories. Accusations. But little evidence."

"Dozens of my men watched what happened," Moreau replied. "Ask them. Ask Colonel Perrin. Ask the General."

Valois tilted his head slightly. "The General is currently under review. You know that."

"I know he's feared," Moreau replied. "By the right people."

A flicker of something passed behind Beauchamp's eyes approval, perhaps.

Or calculation.

Drouet stood abruptly, pacing. "Capitaine, this isn't a tribunal for heroism. You've made enemies. Within command. Within Paris. You acted beyond your post."

"And what would you have done, Colonel?" Moreau snapped. "Waited for permission while traitors killed more men? While another ambush happened on our own soil? Or would you have sat in a polished chair and called it a matter of perspective?"

"Perspective keeps countries from civil war," Drouet barked.

"No," Moreau said, eyes burning. "Perspective hides truth behind comfort. And comfort gets people killed."

Beauchamp lifted his hand gently.

"Enough."

Everyone froze.

He looked at Moreau with sharp eyes. "Capitaine. If the events you describe are true, you are either a patriot... or a liability."

"I'm not here to be either," Moreau said. "I'm here because I did my duty. And I'd do it again."

Valois closed the folder. "Then let us speak of loyalty."

He placed a photo on the table.

A blurred image of Moreau leading his column out of the forest, prisoners behind him, weapons drawn.

"You brought captured French soldiers your own brothers at gunpoint through 30 kilometers of territory. Why?"

"Because they pointed their weapons at us first. And because they weren't acting under legal command. They were planted."

"You don't get to decide who's French and who's not," Valois said coolly.

"I don't," Moreau replied. "But traitors make that decision for me."

The room was quiet again.

Beauchamp finally leaned forward.

"Capitaine. I want you to listen carefully."

Moreau nodded once.

"There are men in this room," Beauchamp said slowly, "who think you are a threat. There are others who believe you are a solution."

"Which are you, General?" Moreau asked, not unkindly.

Beauchamp gave a faint smile. "I don't answer questions. I wait for the war to start, and then I watch who survives."

Valois stood. "This hearing is adjourned until tomorrow. You will remain under watch. No contact outside this facility."

Moreau stood as well, slowly. "Understood."

As he turned toward the door, Valois added softly, "Be careful, Capitaine. History has a habit of burying the inconvenient."

Moreau paused, looking back. "So do cowards."

Drouet sneered. "Careful, Capitaine. Arrogance has a price."

Moreau met his gaze squarely. "Then send me the bill. Just make sure it's addressed to the truth."

He turned and walked out, escorted by two silent officers.

Behind him, the room was quiet again.

Until Beauchamp spoke.

"You feel it?" he asked softly.

Valois looked up. "What?"

"The tide," Beauchamp murmured. "It's moving. And we might be standing on the wrong shore."