Reincarnated: Vive La France-Chapter 46: "Vive la fucking France."

The gunfire had long since faded.

Inside Colonel Perrin's office, General Delon sat in a wooden chair, his arms resting on the desk as he leaned back, exhaling deeply.

His coat was unbuttoned, his uniform slightly ruffled.

His eyes flickered with exhaustion, but his spirit remained unshaken.

The door creaked open, and Major Varenne stepped in, his movements sharp and precise as always.

"General, we will be leaving in ten minutes. The men are already prepared."

Delon smirked, rubbing his temples before looking at Perrin.

His laughter was dry, humorless.

"Haha, it'll be fun in Paris with those pissers."

Perrin let out a slow breath, shaking his head.

Even Varenne's usual smirk didn't appear.

The joke was meant to lighten the mood, but there was no humor left to be found.

Delon straightened slightly, his expression turning more serious.

He locked eyes with Perrin.

"Take care of Moreau, Perrin. We'll need him soon."

Perrin didn't hesitate.

He nodded firmly. "You have my word, General."

With that, Delon stood, buttoning up his coat with practiced efficiency.

Ten minutes later, the entire base stood at attention.

Moreau watched from a distance as the restrictions on the base were lifted, one by one.

Soldiers moved in meticulous formations, ensuring that no gaps were left as the convoy prepared to leave.

The heavy growl of engines filled the air as trucks and military vehicles lined up.

Phase by phase, the troops under General Delon began their departure, moving slowly and steadily into the night.

Moreau stood rigid, watching the convoy's taillights disappear into the distance.

For the first time in days, the base felt so empty.

A voice cut through the silence.

"Buddy, I need a fucking drink."

Moreau turned to see Renaud standing beside him, arms crossed, exhaustion evident in his posture.

Moreau let out a low chuckle. "You know your heart and liver will die one day, you stupid idiot."

Renaud smirked. "Maybe. But these past few weeks have made it worse."

Moreau grinned and nodded. "Alright, let's get that drink."

They entered a small, dimly lit bar just outside the barracks, a known grey zone where officers often drank after nightfall.

A handful of men sat in the corners, speaking in hushed tones, still absorbing what had happened earlier that evening.

Renaud wasted no time, ordering a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

As soon as the bottle was placed on the table, he poured himself a generous amount and downed it in one go, wincing as the alcohol burned down his throat.

"Merde… my brain is fucked up," he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Moreau laughed, pouring himself a drink. "Wasn't much there to begin with."

"Go fuck yourself," Renaud shot back, though his grin took the bite out of it.

The two clinked glasses, taking a moment to enjoy the rare peace.

Then, the door creaked open.

Major Clément stepped inside.

Moreau stiffened slightly, his amusement fading.

He had almost forgotten about Clément the man who had been his most vocal opponent since the beginning.

The one who had tried to ruin his career, his reputation, dragging him before the disciplinary committee in Paris.

And yet, here he was.

Clément walked toward their table, his posture rigid but his expression unreadable.

Moreau and Renaud exchanged glances.

Finally, Clément spoke.

"Can I share a drink with you, gentlemen?"

Moreau raised an eyebrow.

Renaud, never one to hold back, scoffed. "Did hell freeze over, Major?"

Clément ignored the sarcasm and pulled out a chair, sitting down.

Renaud, still frowning, poured him a glass anyway.

Clément took it, staring at the liquid for a moment before finally drinking.

Then, he sighed.

"I know I've done many things wrong."

The words caught both of them off guard.

Clément set his glass down, looking directly at Moreau.

"From the moment I met you, I judged you. I made your life hell. I tried to drag you down, ruin your career. I was a stubborn, arrogant fool stuck in an outdated mindset. And today… today I realize how much of a stupid son of a bitch I've been."

Renaud let out a low whistle.

"Great realization, Major. Took you long enough."

Moreau elbowed him, but Clément simply nodded.

"No, he's right, Capitaine. I deserve that."

He exhaled, shaking his head. "I was so stuck in my way of thinking that I forgot something fundamental. The army is not mine. It is not yours. It is not Paris'. The army belongs to the men who fight in it. And the only thing that matters is that we stand together when the time comes."

His gaze hardened.

"And if that time comes, I would rather have you beside me than any of those cowards in Paris."

Moreau studied him carefully, trying to process this shift.

Clément continued.

"Today, I have come here to apologize, Capitaine. Your name is already being spoken across the ranks. You safeguarded your men when others would have sacrificed them to politics. You stood for justice when others feared consequences. You fought not for medals, not for career advancement, but for the men under your command. And that… that is something I admire."

Moreau felt something stir in his chest.

It was one thing to fight against opposition.

To battle against those who doubted him.

But to see a man like Clément, a man so deeply rooted in tradition, acknowledge his mistake?

That meant something.

Clément raised his glass.

"Fuck ideology. Fuck the politicians in Paris. They are not here when we bleed. They are not here when our comrades die. But we are. And that is what matters."

He lifted his glass higher.

"Vive la France."

Moreau smiled.

"Vive la France."

Renaud let out a small chuckle before raising his glass as well.

"Vive la fucking France."

The three of them clinked their glasses together, the sound of glass meeting glass ringing softly in the dimly lit room.

Moreau felt something other than exhaustion.

He felt hope.

The war hadn't started yet.

But tonight, an old enemy became a new ally.

And that, perhaps, was the greatest victory of all.