Reincarnated: Vive La France
Chapter 275: The Pandora box had been opened.

Chapter 275: The Pandora box had been opened.

The cabinet gathered before noon.

Not in the grand salons of the Élysée, but in a narrow chamber buried beneath the west wing no windows, no recording, just iron light and coffee that had gone cold too early.

No aides.

No press.

Only chairs and thick dossiers.

Moreau entered last.

Still in his military coat.

Still silent.

He didn’t wait for greetings.

"Let’s begin."

They rose.

He waved them down.

Vincent Auriol was first.

"Tribunal work is going good in regional level. We’re still tracing loyalty chains at those grassroots level. Names from the army and ministries. It is hard but it’s working."

Moreau nodded. "Good."

Jean Zay spoke next.

"We’ve reopened one hundred seventy-four schools more. We’re including food lines. Some of these children haven’t seen eggs in two years."

"And literacy?"

"Books are late. But we have teachers. We’re calling them peacekeepers now."

"Good," Moreau said. "Education is repair."

Mendès France leaned forward.

"Grain’s moving. I’ve authorized seizure of idle silos and rail prioritization for bread and milk. The military is cooperating."

Moreau looked toward Delon, seated at the far end.

He gave a sharp nod. "They’re assisting. No issue."

Paul Reynaud straightened his tie.

"Another Emergency bonds sold out in three days. The aristocrats don’t love me, but they’re too stunned to fight. Currently economic recovery has been bit disrupted due to Spain event."

"We’ll get throuh it." Moreau said.

Mandel cleared his throat.

"We’ve begun retraining more of the gendarmerie. Loyalty oath to the Republic, not party. I’ve removed three commanders quietly. No press leaks."

"Quiet removal is good," Moreau said. "We don’t need purges. We need pulse."

Marcel Déat glanced at his folder, frowning.

"Food queues have stabilized. But unions are nervous. Too many rumors about centralization."

"Reassure them," Moreau said. "Tell them we don’t want control. We want logistics."

"They won’t believe that forever."

"Then make them believe it long enough to eat."

At the end of the table, Admiral Muselier crossed his arms.

"Navy need funds. We are already working on a thin line."

"You will get it." Moreau said. "Set it up."

General Vuillemin raised a hand.

"We need fuel. Airfields in Metz and Toulouse are dry."

Moreau turned to Reynaud. "Fund this as well"

"We can’t..."

"Fund it."

Reynaud nodded slowly.

The room went quiet for a moment.

Everyone looking toward the Supreme Commander.

Moreau didn’t shift in his seat.

He looked down at the map laid across the table France, Spain, Europe like an open wound.

Then he spoke, quieter than expected.

"I called this meeting not to review what we’ve done."

He looked up. "But to begin what we haven’t."

Bonnet frowned. "We’ve stabilized France. You’ve restructured Spain. You’ve proven..."

"I’ve opened something," Moreau interrupted. "A door. A crack. A wound. Call it what you like in Europe."

He leaned forward.

"But they will come through it."

"Who?" Zay asked.

"The one who realised that Europe will do nothing but talk."

Gamelin straightened. "So you are saying we are about to descend into madness."

"I’m saying they’ll compete. Their gloves are coming off. And ours must come off first."

He stood now.

Not pacing.

"We need steel. Not just to build. But to hold."

He looked to Delon.

"You’ll reactivate tank production. Heavy and medium class. I want fifty battalions outfitted by spring."

Delon blinked. "That’s double pre-war levels."

"I know."

He turned to Muselier.

"Expand dockyard capacity. I don’t want parades. I want destroyers. And submarine fleets."

Muselier’s eyes narrowed. "For Spain?"

"For Europe."

Moreau moved down the table with his gaze.

"Air force expansion starts today. Vuillemin, begin joint training with British models but only the ones they’re trying to retire. Let them underestimate us."

Vuillemin smirked. "Understood."

He pointed to Mandel.

"Double police academy intake. Not for repression. For defense. Get translators. Multilingual training. We’ll need stability officers when the next border shifts."

Zay spoke slowly.

"Are you planning another intervention?"

"No."

"Then what are we preparing for?"

Moreau looked around the room.

Everyone silent.

"They’ve seen what we did in Spain. Quietly. Completely. Without asking."

He turned to Gamelin.

"Do you believe Hitler will not see it as an example to achieve his goal."

Gamelin’s mouth went dry. "No."

"Do you believe Stalin won’t try to match it?"

"Of course he will."

Moreau nodded.

"Europe doesn’t fear occupation. It fears irrelevance. That’s what makes it dangerous."

Bonnet leaned in.

"So we’re accelerating now?"

"We don’t have time."

"How long?"

"Months," Moreau said. "Maybe less."

Germany taking over Austria should have happened next year but given the current situation where he has already shown Hitler that Europe will do nothing but watch.

He cannot take any risk.

He picked up a pencil and tapped it twice against the edge of the table.

Then spoke.

"I want tanks in Toulouse. Air drills in Lyon. Engineers on the Pyrenees fortifications. In Spain, begin coastal watch stations. Quietly."

He looked to Reynaud.

"Fuel taxes. Emergency fund. Get the foreign banks on edge."

"Won’t that panic the markets?"

"It should," Moreau said. "Let them know France is serious."

Zay exhaled.

"You believe war is coming."

"I believe it never left," Moreau said. "It just changed uniforms."

He sat again.

Hands clasped.

The silence returned.

Then Lebrun the symbolic President cleared his throat.

"I will address the nation," he said. "Not to stir fear. But to confirm unity."

"You still want him to be the face?" Mandel asked.

"Yes," Moreau said. "He is not power. He is reassurance."

"And you?" Bonnet asked.

"I remain what I have always been."

Reynaud tilted his head. "Which is?"

Moreau smiled faintly.

"The last line between collapse and continuity."

He paused. Then continued.

"I’ve seen the maps from Berlin. The messages from Budapest. The speeches from Rome. They think France will bask in its win."

"They’re wrong."

"France doesn’t bask. It builds."

He stood again.

Meeting over.

"Start the engines. The next storm won’t give warning."

As they rose to leave, Bonnet lingered behind.

He stepped beside Moreau, voice low.

"Do you think we win the next one too?"

Moreau didn’t smile.

He looked toward the window, the clouds over Paris already darkening.

"No," he said softly. "But we’ll still be standing when it ends."

The Pandora box had been opened.