Chapter 741: Infiltration at the Academy
Charles didn't need a break.
The entire speech, including the principal's opening remarks, had lasted barely more than ten minutes. He felt it was best to move straight to the next task. He couldn't wait to leave this military academy, which had little to do with real war.
If it had any connection to warfare, it was in the way it trained wave after wave of officers whose only strategy was to order soldiers into pointless charges.
The thought alone made Charles feel nauseated by the principal's and instructors' posturing.
But there was nothing he could do at the moment.
The principal had now taken over from Charles on stage, trying to steer the "derailed momentum" back on course:
"We are all aware that Lieutenant General Charles has achieved many remarkable victories on the battlefield," he said.
"But it is equally important to consider different voices and alternative tactics—not just judge purely on win or loss."
"One thing is clear: Charles' victories were also built upon the efforts of other generals and the sacrifices of soldiers. We cannot generalize everything…"
But before he could finish, a cadet spoke up from the crowd:
"But this is war, Principal. The whole purpose of war is to win."
"Yes—and to win while staying alive."
"Only Charles' troops have achieved that. That's exactly the outcome we want—not the process of sending millions to die under enemy gunfire."
…
Principal Denoix struggled to keep up, but no matter how he tried to twist his logic, he couldn't recover. He was just stalling on stage with rhetoric.
Everyone could see it: his resistance was futile.
Charles' "results-based doctrine" had already planted itself deeply in the minds of the cadets.
Charles was very satisfied with this.
It showed that the cadets had started to think for themselves.
No longer relying purely on imagination or what instructors fed them about what war "should" look like.
…
The lounge was located inside the main building, a floor dedicated to receiving important visitors.
It was neat and well-equipped, with a bedroom, bathroom, study, and guards posted outside.
To Charles' surprise, the coffee and pastries weren't served by an aide—but by the instructor who'd brought him.
"May I speak with you, General?" asked Painvin cautiously.
"I've made myself clear," Charles replied coldly. "If you really want answers, you should go to the battlefield and put your theories to the test. That's the best way to validate them."
"No, General." Painvin glanced around and lowered his voice, speaking rapidly. "I'm from the Cipher Bureau. My name is Painvin. Not long ago, I cracked a coded message. While you were flanking along the Meuse, we already knew there was a gap near Lis."
Then Painvin locked eyes with Charles and asked:
"You didn't receive any intel about this, did you?"
Charles was stunned for a moment. Then he nodded slowly.
"Are you saying…"
"Yes." Painvin confirmed his suspicion. "They intercepted the message I decrypted, General."
And Charles understood.
It was those old men in Parliament and the government.
They didn't want him to win.
"I know it's wrong, General," Painvin said anxiously. "But I don't know what to do."
Charles thought for a moment, then said:
"I'll have you transferred out of the Cipher Bureau."
"Is that possible?" Painvin's face lit up—then hesitated.
"But wouldn't I be more useful inside the Cipher Bureau? I mean… I'd have access to more intelligence."
"No." Charles shook his head.
Just then, someone walked in. Painvin quickly changed the subject.
"Sorry, General. Many of us have been wondering—what if the Germans created fast-reaction units to intercept your troops?"
Charles replied with visible irritation:
"Then their trucks would be facing our tanks.
I'd love to see that happen."
The irony wasn't lost on him.
He was in his own country, at a military academy—yet he had to work covertly just to safeguard France.
The person who entered was a communications officer.
He stepped forward and saluted sharply:
"General, the speech has concluded. The principal requests your presence at the museum."
…
Paris City Hall
General Gallieni paced back and forth behind his desk, his two aides busily organizing papers and stacking documents that required his signature.
But Gallieni ignored the growing pile.
His mind was elsewhere—on Saint-Cyr.
Could Charles truly establish authority at the academy?
It wouldn't be easy.
Not with decades of tradition standing in the way.
It wasn't just indoctrination by the academy.
For decades, society had hammered in the belief in "offense above all."
That belief had been planted in cadets' minds since birth.
Now it had grown into a towering tree.
Trying to uproot it in a short time was nearly impossible.
But it had to be done.
Charles thought he had control of the army.
But he was only in charge of the current army.
Someday, when these cadets graduated and became officers, new problems would emerge.
In fact, it wasn't "someday."
It was already happening.
Batch after batch of cadets would soon return the army to its former mold.
Worse still, many of these future officers had complicated ties to politicians, businessmen, and lawmakers.
If nothing was done, everything Charles had achieved on the battlefield could be quietly infiltrated and undone by capital and political manipulation.
Just then, the phone rang.
Gallieni ignored it.
He didn't think it could be Kobdo—not yet. The speech had only just begun a few minutes ago.
One of the aides answered and turned to Gallieni:
"Minister, it's Mr. Kobdo."
Gallieni immediately sensed something was wrong.
A report so soon?
Did Charles get booed off stage?
Did he argue with the cadets?
Get into a conflict with the faculty?
Uneasy, Gallieni took the phone.
"What happened?" he asked grimly.
Kobdo's voice came through—excited, breathless:
"It's over, Minister! The speech is over! Charles only spoke for ten minutes—it's unbelievable!"
Gallieni let out a noncommittal grunt, his tone disappointed:
"If it didn't go well, come back. We'll find another opportunity. They'll come around someday."
"No, Minister—they've already come around."
"There's no need to rush, Kobdo," Gallieni replied. "Eventually they'll see the value in Charles' approach."
"Minister," Kobdo said more clearly, "you're not understanding me.
I mean—they already accept Charles. They've accepted him now."
Gallieni frowned.
"Of course I understand…"
He nearly hung up the phone in annoyance.
Then suddenly froze.
He raised the receiver again, stunned.
"What? What did you just say?
They accepted Charles?"
"Yes!" Kobdo answered with growing excitement.
"In just ten minutes—the cadets recognized Charles. It was incredible."
"Are you sure?" Gallieni couldn't believe it.
"I'm sure! Minister, I only wish you could have been there. It was one of the most brilliant speeches I've ever seen—not a bit less impactful than any of Charles' victories!"
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