Reincarnated: Vive La France-Chapter 59: "Stop running your fucking brain, drink some shit, get drunk and crashout."

The rain hadn't stopped and the whole street was still shrouded in grey.

Étienne Moreau stepped out of the government building, his coat collar turned up against the chill.

Renaud was just behind him, pulling his cap lower.

They stood for a moment in silence.

No words between them.

Just the hush of rain and the noise of boots behind shuttered doors. freewebnøvel.com

Then Renaud broke the quiet.

"So," he said, voice flat, "you're not going to prison. That's... good."

Moreau didn't smile. He just nodded. "Strange feeling."

"They're pinning a medal to your chest instead."

"Is that what you call irony?" Moreau murmured.

"I call it horseshit," Renaud muttered. "But I'll take it."

They started walking.

The streets were slick and mostly empty, expect for a few passing trams and the occasional tired worker under a shared umbrella.

The cafés looked lifeless, like they were waiting for something better than this weather.

Moreau adjusted his gloves as they walked. "I really thought it was the end."

"Didn't we all?" Renaud grunted. "I had already imagined the obituary. 'Capitaine Moreau: insubordinate, impossible, and probably insane. Died patriotically… or so they say.'"

That pulled a quiet laugh from Moreau. "Thanks for the confidence."

"I wrote a nice version too, but that one was more entertaining."

Moreau shook his head but didn't reply.

He was thinking about the committee room.

The eyes on him.

The silence.

"I thought this whole thing was a set-up. A quiet execution disguised as a committee hearing. But he Beauchamp, he flipped it. He turned the table on them right there. Or rather the tables were already turned on. Do you

know Valois face?" Moreau finally said.

Renaud snorted. "Lemme guess he looked like someone pissed in his wine."

"Yes" Moreau laughed and then took a pause sighing deeply.

"We misjudged Beauchamp," Moreau admitted. "All of us."

"He's not easy to read," Renaud said carefully. "Hell, even now I'm not sure who the hell he is."

"I asked myself," Moreau spoke, "why Beauchamp saved me. I wasn't special. Hell, I was a problem."

"You still are," Renaud said.

"Shut up," Moreau muttered.

Renaud nudged him. "You want to know why he did it?"

"You found something?"

"Actually, yeah. While you were being dissected in that marble mausoleum, I spoke to someone from his old regiment. A former intelligence officer."

There was a pause.

Renaud sighed. "You're not supposed to know. Most don't."

They turned down a narrower street, one lined with shuttered bookstores and lamplight reflected in puddles.

Moreau waited.

"He started in Algeria," Renaud said, voice low. "Young lieutenant. Bright. Clean uniform, clean conscience. Then came the war Champagne front. He lost most of his men in three days. The few who survived say he buried the dead himself. All of them took him another three days."

"God," Moreau whispered.

"After that, something in him changed. He stopped caring about decorum. Started fighting the rot from inside. But he kept quiet. Built a reputation for being methodical, cold, efficient. Most ministers hated him. Said he was unpredictable. That he was too blunt."

"And yet... he still climbed."

Renaud nodded. "He had friends in places no one talked about. Old war friends. Quiet types. He collected people like you collect books never flashy, always useful."

Moreau looked down at the rain-slicked pavement. "So when he read our report…"

"He didn't just see facts. He saw something familiar. And he acted. Not because he had to, but because he couldn't not."

They crossed the street in silence.

"You know," Moreau murmured, "I've spent months cursing the army. Calling it blind. Rotten. Maybe I was wrong."

Moreau stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. "Every army has corruption. Complacency. It's human. But that doesn't mean the institution's dead. I judged it like it was hopeless. I see now that it isn't. It's just wounded."

Renaud smirked. "You getting sentimental, Capitaine?"

"No," Moreau said with a faint grin. "Just honest admitting my mistake."

"Honest" Renaud said with a grin. "Capitaine Étienne Moreau admitting a mistake? Get the priests."

"I still think it's broken. But now... I see it's not beyond repair. There are people like Beauchamp. Like Perrin. Like Delon."

"And you."

Moreau gave him a look.

"You're part of this too," Renaud said. "You started something. Lit a fuse, maybe. Who knows what happens next."

They passed an alley where a boy was kicking a can against a wall.

A baker opened his shutter nearby, warm smells drifting into the cold.

Moreau glanced up at the grey sky. "Life is so unpredictable, I went in there with a mentality of a dead person."

Because this was too much of shock for him. From enjoying at home to suddenly being informed of a summon. Then meeting perrin and now this.

This was some fucking dogshit plot and whoever wrote this deserve to fucking die.

"Stop whinning fucker, you are alive and safe with a dogshit medal now."

"No. Because Beauchamp chose to speak."

"You think that was easy for him?" Renaud asked. "Turning on his peers? You saw the look Valois gave him."

"He'll be isolated now."

"He always was," Renaud said. "That's the price."

They stopped outside a corner café.

The cold wind made whistling noise as it went past through them as they saw the cafe with tables inside half-full.

"One drink?" Renaud asked.

Moreau hesitated. "Do they serve hope in there?"

Renaud smirked. "No, but they've got decent wine and bad poetry on the walls."

They stepped inside.

The warmth hit instantly, the scent of coffee and cheap bread making them more hungry.

They took a table by the window.

Moreau didn't touch the menu.

He just stared out at the rain.

"This has made me learn a beautiful lesson always expect the unexpected. Never judge or trust anyone easy. From Clément to Beauchamp I was wrong," he said softly.

"No," Renaud said. "You judged honestly. But maybe now, we know better."

There was a pause.

Renaud then continued.

"Whatever it is Capitaine, it has happened so stop running your fucking brain, drink some shit, get drunk and crashout."

After finishing he stood up going towards the counter because he needed a fucking drink.