Moreau and Fournier

The barracks were eerily quiet at this hour.

Most of the officers had turned in for the night,

The only sound in the dimly lit storage room was the faint clink of glass against wood as Moreau swirled the last remnants of whiskey in his cup.

He had been drinking alone for nearly an hour, lost in thought.

The door creaked open.

Moreau didn't bother looking up.

He already knew who it was by the sound of the boots against the floor.

"Lieutenant Fournier."

Fournier stepped inside without invitation.

He didn't say anything at first, just pulled out a chair and sat across from Moreau, placing a fresh bottle of whiskey between them.

"You drink alone often, Capitaine?"

Moreau finally looked up, his expression unreadable. "That depends. You here to drink, or do you have something to say?"

Fournier exhaled, rolling up his sleeves. "A bit of both."

He grabbed the bottle, poured himself a glass, then topped off Moreau's without asking. "What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room."

That caught Moreau's attention.

He straightened slightly, studying Fournier's face.

The lieutenant was serious.

Moreau set his glass down, fingers tapping lightly against the wood. "Now you've got me curious."

Fournier took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle before speaking. "Vaillan. Do you know him?"

Moreau frowned. "Henri Vaillan? Logistics officer?"

Fournier nodded. "Not anymore. He's in a cell now."

Moreau's brow furrowed. "What?"

Fournier leaned forward, voice low. "He was the saboteur. The man responsible for the Renault FT explosion."

Moreau froze for a second.

The words sank in more deeper then he thought.

"You're serious."

"Deadly."

Moreau studied him carefully. "You shouldn't be telling me this."

Fournier smirked slightly. "No, I shouldn't."

"Then why are you?"

Fournier sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Because I think you need to know. And because… I don't like how this whole thing smells."

He exhaled. "The official report is going to be buried under classified orders and bureaucracy, but here's the truth, Vaillan isn't working for any country. He's a mercenary, a professional saboteur hired to sow division."

Moreau's grip on his glass tightened slightly. "Division?"

Fournier nodded. "Not to weaken our military strength directly, but to deepen the cracks already forming. The debates over doctrine, armor versus infantry, the growing political tensions in Paris… Someone wanted to pour fuel on all of it. A small fire now, but one that could turn into a blaze later."

Moreau leaned back, digesting the information. "And you believe him?"

Fournier let out a short laugh. "Believe him? No. But I believe in the evidence. He confessed once he realized he had no way out, and everything he said lines up too well with what we already suspected. This wasn't some petty act of sabotage. It was planned. Carefully. And whoever hired him knew exactly what they were doing."

Moreau exhaled slowly, his mind working through the implications. "And yet, you're telling me this."

Fournier's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "I think you're one of the few people who actually understands what's happening here."

Moreau tilted his head. "You think I understand? I'm just a captain, Fournier. A training officer."

Fournier scoffed. "Don't insult my intelligence. You see things the others don't."

He tapped his glass lightly against the table. "So tell me, Capitaine, who do you think benefits from an army that's too busy fighting itself to prepare for what's coming?"

Moreau went still for a moment.

Then he took a slow sip of whiskey, set the glass down carefully, and met Fournier's gaze.

"How much do you know about Hitler?"

Fournier frowned at the abrupt shift. "Enough. He's a nationalist, a populist, a man who loves the sound of his own voice. The papers write about him constantly, but the real politicians don't take him seriously."

Moreau exhaled through his nose. "They should."

Fournier studied him. "Why?"

Moreau ran a hand over the table, feeling the rough grain of the wood beneath his fingertips.

He had to be careful too much truth, and Fournier would think him insane.

But if he didn't say enough, the moment would pass, and the warning would be lost.

So he chose his words deliberately.

"Hitler isn't just another demagogue," he said finally. "He isn't just another nationalist stirring up the masses. He's something else. He understands how people think, how they move. How they can be controlled. And more than that… he knows how to make people want to be controlled."

Fournier's expression didn't change, but Moreau could see the gears turning.

"You think he's dangerous."

Moreau chuckled darkly. "I think he's the most dangerous man in Europe."

Fournier leaned back slightly, swirling his whiskey. "And you think he's behind this?"

Moreau shook his head. "Not directly. Not yet. But tell me, Fournier, if someone wanted to weaken France before a future war, how would they do it? Would they launch an invasion? No. That would rally the nation. Would they attack our industry? No. That would force us to modernize faster."

He tapped the table lightly.

"They would attack our faith in ourselves. They would make us doubt our leadership, our doctrines, our alliances. They would make us hesitate, make us argue, make us weak before the first shot was even fired."

Fournier was silent for a long time. Then he exhaled sharply. "You make it sound like the war's already started."

Moreau met his gaze. "It has."

Fournier's fingers tightened slightly around his glass.

He wasn't convinced.

Not fully.

But Moreau could see the doubt creeping in, the slow unraveling of certainty.

"You think Germany's already moving against us?" Fournier asked finally.

Moreau smirked. "I think you'll remember this conversation a few years from now."

Fournier exhaled through his nose, finishing his whiskey in one gulp. "I hope you're wrong, Moreau."

"So do I," Moreau murmured. "So do I."

Silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Finally, Fournier stood, adjusting his uniform. "I need to report this to Paris. They need to hear our conclusions about Vaillan."

Moreau watched him go.

This conversation has changed his perception of the current situation.

He thought it was clement or some random officer who wanted to bring him down but now it's seems that this sabotage was something bigger then that.

The current french government and official are not ready for the third reich and the horrors it will bring, which is why they are neglecting hilter as a madman but soon...

This madman will launch a torrent of steel that will conquer the whole europe.

As the door shut behind Fournier, Moreau took another slow sip, staring at the empty chair across from him.

He already knew how this story ended.