Chapter 494: "Special Channels"
Charles's decision to collaborate with Pétain was not really driven by the threat of Nivelle.
The appointment of General Robert Nivelle as Supreme Commander was already practically guaranteed. With British backing—thanks to their abundant military supplies acquired via loans from the United States—Nivelle's rise was inevitable. Britain's support alone could easily tip the scales in favor of their preferred candidate.
Besides, even if Nivelle assumed command, neither Charles nor General Pétain, given their lower rank as major generals, would have significant influence on major strategic decisions. Those decisions were usually made by a council of senior generals and group army commanders.
The true reason Charles approached Pétain was to counterbalance the French Parliament itself, a formidable adversary in its own right.
Parliament held enormous power, and lately, it had aggressively sought to curtail Charles's growing influence, intentionally cultivating rivalries within the French military. From Charles's perspective, aside from Gallieni, nearly every other high-ranking officer—commanders of the Northern, Central, and Eastern Army Groups—stood against him politically.
Previously, General Foch had been an ally, at least sympathetic toward Charles. But after Foch's dismissal, Charles found himself increasingly isolated again.
Ironically, though Charles commanded immense support among soldiers and junior officers, this very popularity threatened the interests of the top brass, thus fueling their hostility.
Securing Pétain's cooperation represented Charles's first strategic move to divide and weaken his internal opposition.
Amidst these political maneuvers, Charles took a brief respite, deciding to return home to Davaze. It wasn't business that drew him back; simply, he longed for the comforting embrace of family.
Months of constant battlefields and political intrigue had left Charles drained and exhausted. Even when stationed in Paris, his packed schedule prevented him from visiting. There were moments when he felt profoundly isolated, yearning for nothing more than a safe harbor to rest, even for a short while.
Camille seemed intuitively aware of Charles's emotional state. From a distance, spotting his approaching car, she raced out joyfully. But as she approached and glimpsed his weary face, and the dirt and fatigue evident on his uniform, her joy rapidly turned to anguish. Tears filled her eyes as she reached out, embracing him protectively, kissing his forehead softly.
"It's all right now, my child," she whispered tenderly. "You're home. Everything is okay now."
Charles suddenly felt a surge of exhaustion sweep over him, barely able to stand without Camille's steadying support. He stumbled toward his bedroom, shedding his heavy army coat before collapsing onto his bed. With a deep, relieved sigh, he swiftly fell into a heavy sleep.
Shortly after, Déjokar arrived hurriedly from the factory, but Camille intercepted him.
"He's already asleep," she explained gently.
Déjokar glanced at his watch in surprise—it was barely mid-afternoon. Quickly, however, he nodded knowingly.
"He's been carrying too heavy a burden lately," Déjokar said softly.
Camille sighed deeply, unable to stop more tears from streaming down her face, eyes turning anxiously toward Charles's closed door.
Charles slept uninterrupted through the afternoon and entire night. It wasn't until the following morning that Déjokar reluctantly woke him, reminded by Lieutenant Laurent that Charles had scheduled an urgent return trip to Belgium.
Charles took a long moment to wash and tidy himself up, staring thoughtfully at his reflection in the mirror. The military uniform, once a source of pride and motivation, now felt heavy, almost burdensome. He brushed the dust away carefully, hoping to appear presentable enough that Camille wouldn't worry.
Descending the stairs, Charles found a hearty breakfast waiting—his favorite apple pastries freshly baked.
Déjokar watched Charles eat for a moment before casually remarking, "Very tired lately?"
"It's manageable," Charles glanced toward the kitchen, where Camille was busy washing fruit. He deliberately downplayed his exhaustion, adding reassuringly, "It's just the recent events at Verdun that made things busy. But it's stabilizing now. Things should ease up soon."
His words appeared to reassure Camille, whose tense expression softened visibly. But Déjokar simply gave Charles an amused glance, silently offering a knowing thumbs-up. He knew better—if things had genuinely calmed down, Charles wouldn't be rushing immediately back to Belgium.
Déjokar shook his head quietly. The entire frontline, it seemed, depended upon Charles's constant presence. What were France's other generals even doing? Taking lessons from Joffre on eating and sleeping?
Camille emerged from the kitchen holding a tray with grapes and plums, then handed Charles a glass of milk.
"I heard they introduced rotation for frontline troops," Camille remarked pointedly. "Shouldn't you get some time off as well?"
Charles paused awkwardly. Generals didn't get rotated like regular soldiers, but what really surprised him was Camille's detailed knowledge.
Déjokar laughed softly at Charles's evident surprise. "Your mother has access to more information than you'd imagine—special channels."
Charles immediately understood the meaning: the network of gossip between wives, mothers, and neighbors, whose information often surpassed formal reports.
Suddenly, Camille shifted gears unexpectedly: "I also heard you've got a girlfriend. Apparently, she's even in Paris—yet somehow, we've heard nothing about her?"
Charles froze mid-bite, panic flickering in his eyes. "Mom, it's...we haven't officially confirmed anything yet..."
"Oh?" Camille raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Then why have I heard you've already met her parents in Belgium?"
Charles stared in disbelief. How could the "special channels" possibly know this much? News from Belgium traveling all the way to Davaze?!
Desperately, Charles glanced at Déjokar for help.
Déjokar shrugged, grinning apologetically. "You're on your own this time, Charles."
Camille pressed further, eyes narrowing with mock offense: "Were you planning to inform us only after the wedding ceremony? At this rate, we might not even know then."
Déjokar jumped in playfully, further teasing Charles: "Exactly! You flew off to Belgium to meet her family first, even though she lives just ten kilometers away! And yet you say you're not officially a couple?"
Camille joined quickly, adding indignantly: "Precisely! It makes no sense at all!"
Charles groaned internally, clearly cornered. Finally, Camille delivered her ultimatum:
"The next time you visit, you'll bring her with you. You have a car, and Lieutenant Laurent is always ready to help. All you need to do is pick her up."
"But, Mom—" Charles tried protesting weakly.
"If not, we'll just go find her ourselves," Camille interrupted firmly, "Believe me, I can easily find her address. I even know her name: Lucia."
Charles threw his hands up in surrender. "Fine! I'll talk to her. But no promises—I'm not even sure she'll want to come..."
He wasn't lying; their relationship was mostly for appearances. Camille, however, simply smiled knowingly, affectionately patting Charles's head.
Silly boy, she thought, amused. Does he really think the girl wouldn't jump at the chance?
(End of Chapter 494)
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