Reincarnated: Vive La France
Chapter 241: Defenders of the Republic. Paris Security Initiative, April 1937.

Chapter 241: Defenders of the Republic. Paris Security Initiative, April 1937.

Moreau entered the dimly lit Command Room.

A long oak conference table stretched before him.

Around it sat eleven people.

Delacroix, Bellec, Mercier, Duret, Courbet, Vautrin, Gaudin, Montagne, Coulombe, Rousse.

Renaud stood beside him.

All eyes turned when Moreau paused at the entrance.

In his hand were ten sealed leather envelopes stamped with the Republic’s seal decrees of command prepared for each man.

Moreau set the envelopes down.

He spoke

"Gentlemen... we gather to end antiquity’s thistle and establish accountability. Paris has watched us move in the dark. Now we move in daylight. Today, you will not be ghosts, but guardians."

Silence hung until Delacroix leaned forward.

"Aren’t we handing them soldiers in civvy jackets?"

Moreau nodded, meeting his gaze unflinching:

"Yes. And with those badges come transparency. This is not martial law it’s civic stewardship under a new Republic."

He turned slowly to Renaud and waved him toward a large map pinned to the wall.

"Renaud" he said, "explain."

Renaud stepped forward, placing pins and markers on the map.

"Colonel Delacroix you command the First, Second, and Eighth Arrondissements. The beating heart, Ministry seats, Palais, banks. Official title. Commander of Central Security."

He slid the first envelope across the table.

"Major Bellec gets the Sixteenth and Seventeenth media, embassies, commerce. You are our Director of Civil Watch."

Bellec nodded once.

Renaud continued.

"Captain Mercier," he said, "Nineteenth and Twenty community sectors, high unrest. Provost of Internal Stability."

Mercier’s hands gripped the edge of the table.

"Commissaire Duret, three-fifths Latin Quarter, universities, intellectual quarters. Commissioner for Ideological Surveillance."

Others followed

Courbet Assembly, Constitutional Council, Ministry clusters. Guardian of the Republican Core."

Vautrin, transport buses, rails. Master of Urban Flow and Strategic Mobility."

Gaudin, Telegraph, wireless, print presses. Director of Civic Communication."

Montagne, Armories, barracks, arsenals. Quartermaster‑General of Internal Defense."

Rousse, Prefecture spaces, protest corridors. Warden of Civil Discourse."

Coulombe, Inspector‑General of Internal Loyalty countersign of accountability."

The eleventh envelope was empty reserved for Renaud as Chief of Security and Vice‑Commander under Moreau.

Each man received their decree, each with signature and countersignature by the Ministry and Republic’s seal.

They unfolded them, fingered the pages, read their futures.

Bellec smirked.

"So we’re soldiers in suits."

Moreau offered a thin smile.

"Citizens first. Guards second. Soldiers only if the Republic crumbles."

Mercier spoke quietly.

"We take these sectors. But how do we hold hearts?"

Moreau replied firmly.

"With performance. Clean streets. Safe transport. Transparent justice. Let the Republic speak."

Duret tipped his head.

"And if we encounter intellectual defiance, protest, pushback?"

Renaud answered.

"You debate. You explain. You report. But do not crush. That’s our difference."

Coulombe interjected in a sharp voice

"A marshall called me loyal once. It cost him his command. I want to know that our actions secure not just Paris’s peace, but our own conscience."

Moreau stepped back.

"No one among us will wear a medal. Not today. This room carries no laurels. Your oath the name signed here is your badge. Break it, and I’ll revoke every title, every command, every capacity you hold."

He gestured to Renaud.

"Captain, you coordinate reporting channels. Real-time updates. You will audit and plot no corner of Paris is spared scrutiny."

Coulombe’s eyes narrowed.

"Authorized?"

Moreau replied.

"You’ll have full authority, along with judicial review. We don’t hide. Not from Paris. Not from law. This is construction, not occupation."

Delacroix’s laugh was dry

"Makes me wonder... how does Gamelin feel about all this? Chief of Staff with no control over us."

Gaudin, looking uncertain, raised a question.

"What of the press? Print, wire services are they beneath Bellec’s watch?"

Moreau added.

"Press remains free under law. Bellec ensures protection, not control. Distinction lies in intent. You guard, not govern."

Rousse eyed the table.

"And protests? Placards carried. Rage simmering. We hold them accountable, not silent them?"

Moreau. "Yes. Public order, yes. Rights, not reversed. If protests disperse, disperse they must but protesters should leave free, observed not hunted."

Courbet stood and said

"I take the Constitutional core. But more than walls, I’ll guard ideals. If ministers or MPs behave in factional ways, I’ll have the record."

Moreau nodded.

"That’s exactly right."

Then the group stood, each man stepping forward to sign a ledger

"Defenders of the Republic. Paris Security Initiative, April 1937."

No salutes.

No ceremony.

One by one, they signed and pocketed their decrees.

When all had finished.

Moreau looked at them and said.

"You are visible now. Paris will see you, report on you, and expect you. Under the law, under public view, under the Republic’s eye. This is not dominion. This is vigil."

Bellec opened his decree and looked at his district map.

"Let’s hope lookouts spot more than robbers," he muttered.

Mercier replied.

"This city never sleeps. Now we stand with it, not over it."

Moreau turned to Renaud.

"Are the troops in place? Fifty thousand worth of eyes, men, units?"

Renaud brought forward a dossier and tapped it:

"Yes. One infantry regiment per ten arrondissements, plus three mobile reserve brigades under centralized command. They are uniformed, unpaid, serving under the Ministry no banners."

He handed Moreau a file.

Moreau looked up.

"Then it stands. You and I not as generals, but governors of peace. Keep these ranks. Keep these badges. Paris will hold. Not in fear, but in faith."

He paused.

"Let them have order. Let them have law. But nothing that smells of fear."

They filed out each stepping confidently, briskly, toward their respective patrol points.

Moreau stood.

Through the window, he looked at the city below scanning rooftops, boulevards, monuments to people under a sunny afternoon.

Renaud stepped forward quietly.

Renaud asked.

"Think they’ll hold?"

Moreau replied coldly.

"They’ll hold. Because they remember what happens when no one holds them."

Renaud watched him, uncertain.

Moreau turned to the map.

A sharp line divided sectors.

Under these marks was his creation a living security architecture of a state rebuilt from ruins.

Though names might sound ancient and fuedal.

But the system, very modern.

More modern beyond its time.

He looked back to Renaud.

"Let them begin."