Chapter 732 - 732: More Importantly—No One Noticed

After finishing his call with Gallieni, Charles decided to take a shower.

A shower—on the frontlines—was a rare luxury.

It wasn't just that water was scarce; it was that bathing had no real purpose at the front. After all, once you were clean, you'd immediately be crawling through mud again. What was the point?

Worse, being clean could be dangerous.

When everyone around you is covered in dirt, and you show up spotless in a freshly pressed uniform, you're basically screaming to the enemy:

"Hey! Aim here. I'm the officer."

After his shower, Charles changed into pajamas and flopped down on the bed. For the first time in a while, his body began to relax.

Even though the breakthrough alongside the armored corps hadn't been particularly risky, it was still war. Bullets and shells had whizzed past his vehicle. Danger was always present.

The closest call came when two shells shrieked in from above. Somehow, the driver—perhaps guided by a sixth sense—yanked the wheel and floored the accelerator. They swerved out of harm's way just in time.

But a piece of shrapnel struck the driver in the head.

Even in his final moments, bleeding out and barely conscious, he gripped the wheel and eased the brakes—bringing the vehicle to a stop.

An act of true valor.

Most people, facing death, would stop caring about anything else. Their only thought would be minimizing their own pain.

But this soldier… he thought only of his duty. Even in agony, even as life left his body, he parked the car to keep his commander safe.

When Charles praised his courage, one of the guards added something that deeply unsettled him.

"It was because of you, General."

"Your safety is the top priority—even above ours."

"So he thought only of his duty in those final seconds. And we would too."

"If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have done that."

…

Charles knew the guard was right. And he couldn't stop replaying that moment in his mind.

The driver had stared at him as he died. His eyes—though fading—still held pride and contentment.

His face was contorted from the pain, but in the end, he had died with a faint smile.

This was the courage of the French soldier.

They weren't lacking in skill. They were simply led by incompetent generals.

They weren't afraid of war. They just didn't want to die needlessly.

They weren't cowards. They were tired of being toyed with by bloodsucking capitalists and foolish politicians.

It was these same brave soldiers who, in World War II, surrendered in just a month—leaving behind a legacy of shame.

And Charles couldn't help but feel a burning sense of injustice.

While he was still reflecting on all this, he heard footsteps outside. A gentle knock followed.

It was Lieutenant Colonel Laurent.

"General, a telegram has arrived," he said through the door.

Originally, Laurent's security regiment didn't have a radio. They relied on telephones to stay in touch with Paris. And since they weren't a combat unit, assigning them rare radio equipment was deemed unnecessary.

But Gallieni had insisted.

He knew Charles often returned to Davaus. And if Charles suddenly disappeared and couldn't be reached, that would be the real catastrophe.

So he had radios delivered—two of them.

Charles opened the door and took the message.

He was surprised to see it was from Queen Marie of Romania.

"Help me, General. Only you can save Romania—for our mutual interest."

Charles raised an eyebrow.

Then said to Laurent: "Reply: 'Romania is currently achieving victory, Your Majesty. It seems we have nothing to worry about. Unfortunately, I'm powerless to assist.'"

…

Peleș Castle, Romania

Queen Marie was pacing anxiously through the drawing room.

She had just learned that three of Romania's four army groups had crossed the Carpathians into Transylvania.

Her blood ran cold.

They had committed their main force—nearly the entire Romanian military—into enemy territory, under threat of German counterattack.

To her, it was madness. Her husband, the king, and his generals were treating war like a child's game. She, a woman, seemed to be the only one thinking clearly.

If those three army groups were wiped out, the remaining group—barely 100,000 troops—would have no option but surrender.

Just then, a maid rushed in. "Your Majesty, Charles's reply…"

Before she could finish, Marie snatched the telegram from her hands.

She read it—and frowned deeply.

Charles showed no interest in Romania's fate.

Why?

She had always believed he would help. But now, she realized he was detached—even cold.

Why?

She remembered how he behaved in Paris—his indifference had stood in sharp contrast to Gallieni's warmth and support.

Could it be that Charles really couldn't help?

No. Everything had unfolded exactly as Charles had predicted—even her husband's reaction.

Marie was more convinced than ever:

If anyone could save Romania, it was Charles.

Suddenly, a thought struck her.

King Albert I of Belgium. She'd heard he was close to Charles. Perhaps he could persuade him?

She ordered a telegram sent to Albert immediately.

Not long after, a reply came back:

"I believe Charles's reaction is understandable, Your Majesty.

Have you considered this: Charles does not need Romania to win the war.

So Romania's survival means nothing to him."

Marie froze.

He was right.

She had assumed saving Romania was a matter of shared interest—but to Charles, it wasn't.

Charles could defeat Germany on his own, perhaps even without Britain.

So why would he care about Romania?

Desperate, she sent another message:

"Can you help me, Your Majesty? Please speak with Charles. Ask him to aid Romania in this crisis!"

Albert's response came soon after—frank, and a little cruel:

"I cannot help you, Queen Marie.

The only one who can help you now… is yourself. Understand?"

Marie stared at the telegram, stunned.

"Only I can help myself…?"

Did that mean—

This bastard!

Charles was that kind of man?

But… what about Romania?

What about the people—soon to be caught in the flames of war?

As her thoughts spiraled, another telegram arrived.

From Albert again:

"If you still don't understand, think of what I did."

Marie's breath caught.

Could it be… that Albert had done the same?

At the bottom of the telegram was one final line:

"Between nations, there are only interests, Queen. You should know this."

Marie gasped.

She had misunderstood everything.

Yes—interests.

Then suddenly, joy flickered across her face.

Albert had tied Belgium's fate to Charles's interests—and that's why he'd gained protection.

So that was the key.

She felt briefly embarrassed by her earlier naïveté—but thankfully, she'd realized the truth in time.

More importantly, no one had noticed.

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