Chapter 105 - Grevy's Surprise

Chapter 105 - Grevy's Surprise

The Bourbon Palace, home of the French Chamber of Deputies, was as loud and unruly as ever, with heated debates and the occasional paper projectile flying through the air. Members of the Republican Party were giving impassioned speeches from the podium, defending General Joffre and insisting that he remain as Supreme Commander of the French Army, absolved of any responsibility—despite his ill-fated "Plan 17," which had already cost countless French lives.

"At the very least, General Joffre is winning the war!" argued Jameson from the podium. "Our troops are inching towards victory. Can we afford to replace a commander winning us the war? Or to hold him accountable, risking morale and, potentially, a cascade of tragedies?"

The response was a resounding wave of boos from the opposition benches, with critics on both the right and the left, though the left was particularly vocal. The right-wing opposed the entire Republican agenda, challenging anything they endorsed, even if the matter at hand had no bearing on their interests. The left, on the other hand, was fragmented across numerous factions, preventing them from presenting a unified front against the Republicans—if they had, the right-wing might have long since lost relevance.

Sitting near the edge of the chamber, Grevy watched the spectacle unfold, idly fingering his black bowler hat and resting against the armrest. To him, the whole debate seemed futile. He had no desire to engage.

Just then, a deputy entered from the back, weaving his way toward Grevy. Leaning in, he whispered a few words into his ear. Grevy's face darkened, his expression a mixture of shock and, just barely hidden, a hint of delight. He hesitated momentarily, murmured a few instructions, then put on his hat, grabbed his cane, and got up to leave.

Armand, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying himself, rallying a group of royalist deputies in a loud, boisterous chorus from the sidelines. For him, this was the best of all possible scenes, one he felt born to be part of. Just as he was in his element, he glanced sideways to see Grevy's retreating figure. Hastily, he threw on his coat and followed.

Outside the Bourbon Palace, Armand finally caught up with Grevy, slightly out of breath.

"What's going on?" he asked. "We were in the middle of debating whether to remove France's 'great' Supreme Commander!" His tone suggested that nothing could be more pressing than this issue.

Grevy replied quietly, "Charles is back."

Armand stopped mid-stride. Alright, he thought. This is more important than the Supreme Commander.

They quickly climbed into the carriage, with Armand unable to hold back his curiosity. "How did he get back?"

"We hadn't accounted for the British," Grevy replied flatly. "They helped Charles escape."

Armand nodded. It made sense; as members of the Entente, the British wouldn't want Charles falling into German hands. That would be disastrous for the alliance.

"Bleyd Manor," Grevy instructed the driver, giving Armand a surprised look.

"To my estate? You knew I'd follow you?" Armand asked.

Grevy shrugged. "If you hadn't, it wouldn't have mattered much."

Armand laughed, conceding the point. During their private meetings at the manor, Armand typically served as a spectator, offering few useful suggestions or insights. In such intimate conspiratorial settings, Armand simply couldn't summon the same enthusiasm he felt in the chaos of parliamentary debate.

Bleyd Manor was its usual quiet self, but two men waiting in the parlor were visibly anxious. Francis paced back and forth, while Nicolas sat on the sofa, attempting to appear calm but casting frequent, furtive glances at the window.

They had chosen not to discuss their concerns with each other, aware that neither could solve the other's problem and that, ultimately, they had little in common.

Finally, the sound of hooves signaled the arrival of the carriage. With expectant looks, the two watched as it pulled to a stop. Grevy and Armand emerged, sharing a few words as they climbed the steps.

The butler opened the door in anticipation, and Grevy entered gracefully, removing his hat and apologizing politely. "Apologies for the delay, gentlemen."

Armand headed straight to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a drink and downing it eagerly before bringing a glass to Grevy, who took it and swirled the wine in his glass, savoring his usual feeling of control. Yet, he couldn't ignore the fact that things seemed to have veered off course.

"Charles is back," Francis blurted out immediately, his gaze shifting to the Daily Post on the table.

"Tell me something I don't know," Grevy replied, ignoring the paper entirely.

He was already well-informed, though two aspects of the situation had surprised him: first, the sheer magnitude of Charles's impact. Grevy had assumed Antwerp would eventually succumb to German pressure, with Charles reluctantly handed over. Instead, the entire city of Antwerp had celebrated Charles's triumph, while the formidable German army had suffered a demoralizing defeat, even experiencing desertions.

Second, Charles had managed to escape from confinement—though some would attribute that to luck, given that even Charles hadn't anticipated British intervention.

To Grevy, however, this wasn't mere luck. If Charles had been an ordinary person, without the power to sway the outcome of a war, the British wouldn't have given him a second thought. His significance had become clear: he was now pivotal to the fates of both great alliances—a truly extraordinary individual.

The idea that a single person could influence the world's most powerful nations was something Grevy would have scoffed at a month ago. But now, it was undeniable.

Thinking Grevy had read the paper, Francis went straight to his issue. "Mr. Grevy, the draft office has called up Pierre."

"Who's Pierre?" Armand asked, puzzled, glancing at Francis.

"My son," Francis replied, "You've met him before."

The mention jogged Armand's memory. "Oh, the one from the tank deal!"

"Yes, him," Francis confirmed, though he left the statement hanging.

Grevy, for his part, remembered Pierre well, though the young man hardly interested him. Mentioning Pierre felt like an insult. Grevy's real regret was not having tried harder to befriend Charles when they first met. It had been the perfect opportunity—Charles had been penniless, making him more susceptible to persuasion. Grevy could have forged a partnership, even won Charles's loyalty. At that time, Charles had been just a young man with a groundbreaking idea.

And yet, he'd let that moment slip, dismissing Charles as a one-hit wonder with little more to offer than his initial invention. He hadn't even recognized Charles's military talent. How blind he'd been!

Seeing Grevy lost in thought, Francis hesitantly continued, "I was hoping you could help Pierre. He's not cut out for the military. It'll kill him…"

Impatiently, Grevy cut him off, "If that's why you're here, you might as well leave now."

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