Reincarnated: Vive La France
Chapter 84: “Then he knows war is not a question of if, but when”

Chapter 84: “Then he knows war is not a question of if, but when”

The narrow corridor outside the Quai d’Orsay office still held the prestige of a great empire.

Cold air crept in from the Seine, cutting through the high windows, and whispers drifted through the ministry like smoke from an untended fire.

Major Étienne Moreau stood alone at the end of the hallway, coat in hand, gloved fingers tapping rhythmically against a manila folder.

It contained nothing dramatic notes, press clippings, and reports he had already memorized but holding it gave his mind something to do while he waited.

A secretary stepped out from behind the heavy walnut doors and gave him a brief, polite nod.

"Minister Laval will see you now, Major."

Moreau nodded and stepped inside.

The Foreign Minister’s office was a full of grandeur.

Maps of Europe framed in dark oak, a fire crackling in a hearth beneath a painting of Richelieu, and a desk so wide it seemed designed for negotiation rather than paperwork.

Pierre Laval stood not behind the desk but beside the fire, one hand tucked in the pocket of his waistcoat, the other a glass of dark liquor.

"Major Moreau," he said, voice thick with fatigue but sharp with curiosity. "I’ve read your file."

Moreau offered a small, respectful nod. "And I’ve read your speeches, Minister Laval."

Laval gave a dry smile. "Then we are both burdened by the other’s words."

He gestured to a chair. "Please."

Moreau sat, his posture straight but not stiff. Laval circled slowly.

"I must admit," Laval said, settling into a seat opposite him, "I don’t usually welcome uniforms to the negotiation table. The diplomacy of Europe is fragile enough without the noise of boots in the background."

"I’m not here to make noise sir," Moreau replied. "Only to observe. And, if the opportunity allows, to clarify what war looks like to those who still believe it unthinkable."

Laval studied him a moment longer, then leaned back. "General Beauchamp speaks well of you. And that is not a man prone to flattery."

"I owe him more than just rank. He gave me room to think for myself."

Laval nodded thoughtfully. "You were in Alsace, yes? During the last mobilization drill."

"And in the Saar region. Quietly, of course."

A pause.

"How quiet?" Laval asked.

"Quiet enough that the German frontier officers believed I was Swiss."

Laval chuckled. "Dufort said you were a diplomat in a soldier’s clothes. I see what he meant now."

Moreau smiled faintly. "Ambassador Dufort was generous."

"He said more than that," Laval continued. "He said you understood how to listen before speaking. A rare trait among your profession."

"Listening has kept me alive," Moreau said, his tone soft but firm.

Laval set down his glass and leaked forward.

"You asked to be part of this delegation. That’s unusual for a man in your position. Why?"

Moreau leaned in as well, his voice low but certain.

"Because I believe this trip isn’t just symbolic. I believe Mussolini is weighing his alliances, and France has a narrowing window to influence that decision. And because I also believe you’re one of the few men in this government who understand that Germany is no longer restrained by treaty or principle."

Laval’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened.

"I’ve spent much of my life watching men ignore what’s inconvenient. Germany’s rearmament, Hitler’s ambitions they’re not secrets. They’re ignored facts."

"They’re worse than ignored," Moreau said. "They’re rationalized. France still sees Germany through the lens of Versailles as though the paper still binds them."

Laval nodded slowly. "You think I can shift Mussolini’s view of Germany?"

"I think he respects power," Moreau replied. "And France hasn’t been good at showing it lately. But if you speak not only as a minister but with the unspoken support of the military if Mussolini sees unity he’ll listen."

Laval raised an eyebrow. "And you believe your presence shows that unity?"

"I believe it proves it."

Silence lingered for a moment.

Outside, faint church bells marked the hour.

"You’re young," Laval said finally. "But not naïve. I respect that. Still... many in my circle won’t welcome your involvement. They’ll see it as a signal of militarization."

"Then let them," Moreau said. "Because the only thing more dangerous than militarization is pretending we have the luxury of delay."

Laval rose and walked toward the window, hands behind his back.

"I met Mussolini in ’32," he said. "Before the world grew darker. He’s many things vain, theatrical but he’s not blind. He knows Hitler’s rise isn’t just nationalism it’s expansionism."

"Then he knows war is not a question of if, but when," Moreau said, standing now as well.

Laval turned to him, a trace of satisfaction on his face.

"You don’t speak like a soldier."

"I read too much to be one entirely," Moreau replied. "And not enough to stop being one."

A quiet smile passed between them.

Laval gestured to the small table where his aide had laid out several dossiers, bound in red ribbon.

"Inside those are the outlines for the Rome discussions: trade corridors, Mediterranean naval agreements, and most importantly, how France and Italy might address Germany without dragging Britain into every sentence."

"I’ve read them," Moreau said.

"You have?"

"I acquired unofficial copies last week. With respect."

Laval gave a dry laugh, clearly amused. "Well, perhaps you do belong at my side."

He moved toward the table and lifted one of the files.

"I want you to sit quietly at first. Observe. Let the Italians underestimate you. Mussolini enjoys being the loudest voice in the room. When the time is right, I’ll draw you in."

Moreau gave a small nod. "Understood."

Laval fixed him with one last look this time, something closer to genuine approval.

"If you continue to speak as you have today," he said, "you may find yourself in more than a soldier’s role soon. France is not just fighting for security. It’s fighting for coherence. And I suspect you’ll help us remember what that looks like."

A soft knock came at the door.

"Minister, your car is ready. The delegation departs in two hours."

Laval nodded. "Merci."

He turned back to Moreau. "Pack lightly, Major. But pack sharply. Italians admire polish."

Moreau allowed himself a small smile. "I’ll make sure my boots speak for themselves."

Laval extended a hand.

"Well let’s make this diplomatic meeting worth it."