I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start

Chapter 82 - Breakfast Together

The next morning, Charles was jolted awake by the sound of artillery fire.

He knew without a doubt that it was the Germans' "Big Bertha" heavy artillery. The Germans usually didn't fire at night; the accuracy in the dark was too low, and shells for the Big Bertha were expensive. Instead, they waited until dawn, using observation balloons to guide their aim to ensure maximum destruction with minimal ammunition.

Charles was staying in a single-occupancy room at the officer's quarters within the fortress command. Located on the third floor with a private bathroom, it was a luxury reserved for high-ranking foreign guests during the war in Antwerp—about on par with General Winter's accommodations.

After all, Antwerp was Belgium's last "safe haven," crowded with those loyal to the king or unwilling to submit to German rule, which put a strain on housing and supplies. Even engineer shovels for building trenches had to be sourced from British reinforcements.

Charles quickly washed up and headed downstairs, his plan clear: get to the airport, return to Paris, and deliver his completed investigation report to Gallieni. This report was crucial for France's aid to Antwerp.

However, Charles hadn't realized that his mission had already become insignificant. France, Britain, Germany, and even Belgium had all devised plans centered around him. Particularly Germany, which, to prevent Charles from leaving, had already deployed three additional divisions—and more were on the way.

Yet Charles, unaware, was still preoccupied with his report.

Downstairs, the command center was bustling with people; in times of war, activity never ceased. Charles wanted to find General Ghys to arrange a car but couldn't spot him.

While he hesitated, a soldier in red-and-black uniform, sword at his side, approached and saluted. Charles recognized the attire—it was King Albert's royal guard. He'd caught a glimpse of them the previous evening when Albert had arrived.

The guard spoke politely, "Lieutenant, His Majesty the King invites you to join him for breakfast. The carriage is waiting outside."

Breakfast? Now?

Charles found it hard to understand. Was this the aristocratic way of life? Even Albert I couldn't resist these customs, it seemed.

But Charles soon realized he'd misjudged the situation; Albert's intentions were not merely social. Unlike the enclosed carriage of Grevy, Albert I had arranged an open-top carriage for Charles, who assumed it was simply Belgian style. In fact, it was a deliberate choice by Albert.

The carriage moved slowly, even though the road was clear.

Six guards in bright red uniforms marched ahead and behind, their red-plumed hats bobbing rhythmically with each hoofbeat, signaling others to step aside.

People lined the streets, most in tattered clothing. The crowd was mainly elderly people, women, and children of all ages—some were crying babies, while others were near Charles's age. Their faces were smudged with dirt, their eyes filled with fatigue and fear.

Their desperation and helplessness stood in stark contrast to the royal guard, making Charles feel uncomfortable as he sat in the carriage.

Initially, the people stayed back on the sides of the street, but as they noticed the carriage leaving the command center, they started moving closer, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of Charles.

Charles found it odd; there hadn't been so many people on the streets yesterday. Was something special about today?

Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt at an intersection, where a convoy transporting ammunition was passing through. In times of war, everyone had to yield to military convoys—even the King's guard.

This pause revealed the truth to Charles.

Slowly, the people began crowding in, at first tentatively, then with growing urgency. They rushed toward the carriage, surrounding it, and started shouting at Charles:

"Are you Charles? We heard you defeated the Germans!"

"Can you really lead us to victory over the Germans?"

"They took our homes and land—can you help us get them back?"

"Help us, please!"

Countless desperate hands reached out to Charles, leaving him bewildered and at a loss for words. He cast a pleading look at the royal guards, who pretended not to notice.

Fortunately, after a while, the carriage resumed its journey, led by the guards, leaving the frenzied crowd behind. But up ahead, more people stood along the streets, each group rising and gazing at Charles with hopeful eyes.

Charles understood now—Albert I had used him. This was not a "breakfast" invitation; it was a morale-boosting parade.

Albert I didn't deny it. When they finally sat down at the breakfast table, his first words to Charles were, "I apologize, Lieutenant. I didn't inform you in advance, but I thought you'd understand."

Breakfast was a steak and a fried egg. It wasn't particularly good, but certainly better than bread alone.

"You overestimate my influence, Your Majesty," Charles said with a hint of complaint. "This won't accomplish much."

Albert I smiled gently, cutting a piece of steak and putting it elegantly into his mouth. "You underestimate yourself. It's already having an impact."

"What?" Charles was skeptical that the effect could be so quick.

"Last night!" Albert tilted his head, chewing the steak as he spoke. "Last night, I let the word out that you were here."

"And?" Charles asked, curious about the outcome.

Albert leaned in, lowering his voice, "Antwerp was on the brink of collapse, Lieutenant."

"In the 14 days since the German assault, 4,780 soldiers have deserted, and another 30,900 have surrendered—over two thousand men lost per day on average."

These were numbers that couldn't be shared publicly, as they would ruin morale.

"But starting last night, instead of dwindling, our ranks have swelled!"

"People are volunteering to join the army to defend Antwerp. And what do you think inspired them?"

Albert raised his wineglass in a toast to Charles. "Now, do you still think I overestimated you?"

Charles said nothing, focusing instead on his steak.

Inwardly, he thought, This king must have spread some exaggerated tales about me. Who knows what sort of hero he's painted me as!

"Boom!"

Another round of fire from Big Bertha.

Charles looked at Albert I, who returned his gaze with a knowing smile. "Relax; everything is going according to your plan. I believe they will succeed!"

Then Albert added, "Also, I think you might not be able to leave here for a while—not yet, at least. The Germans are adopting a desperate tactic, using planes to ram ours."

Taking a sip of wine, he emphasized, "This has never happened before."

(End of Chapter)

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