I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution

Chapter 168: Krafte War - The Choice (1)

The city of Barua.

The evacuation of the residents was already complete, and the Revolutionary Army was fortifying the city. Still, there were residents who could not give up and had remained.

“Oh, you bastards! Do you know how hard it was to buy this house!”

“Uh, um, ma'am, you mustn't interfere with the operation!”

“Don't you have a mother? Would you say that if someone were tearing down the wall of your mother's house!”

“Ah, no, that's…”

“You evil bastards! We pay our taxes to feed and clothe you! But why won't you protect our house!”

Looking at the flustered private soldier and the woman clinging to him, Giselle Davi let out a sigh and approached.

“What is it, soldier?”

“M-Major!”Before the soldier could answer, the woman who had strode up snatched Giselle’s sleeve.

“Whose permission do you have to be tearing down the wall of our house!”

“It is the order of His Excellency, Marquis Lafayette, Commander-in-Chief of the Revolutionary Army. To build a more reinforced defense line by demolishing the walls, which would easily crumble and only make troop deployment more difficult in the event of a street battle.”

“W-we are citizens too, you're supposed to protect our homes! Isn't the Revolutionary Army there to protect this country, even if it means shedding blood?”

Giselle Davi let out a deep sigh as she gave the order.

“Escort her out of the city. …As politely as possible.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“This way, ma’am. There is still a carriage available to go to another city. We will escort you.”

“You evil bastards! Let go, let go! My husband died fighting for the Revolutionary Army, and now you’re kicking me out of my house too! How could you do this to me!”

She knew it was a necessary and tactically sound decision, but the civilians would never understand.

They were simply aggrieved and angry about being kicked out, and that their hometown would become a battlefield and be devastated.

Looking at the woman being dragged away by her subordinates as she shrieked, Giselle let out a heavy sigh.

“Having a hard time, Major?”

Hearing the voice, she raised an eyebrow slightly and turned her gaze.

“Sergeant Durand.”

Leon Durand.

For a mere sergeant to speak so casually to a major was unusual, but his military rank was effectively nominal. He was a man hired as a personal guard for Second Lieutenant Louis d'Aquitaine, so he was treated half as a mercenary even within the army.

Giselle, who had become acquainted with him while looking after Louis, gave an awkward smile.

“It's not a very pleasant job, is it? To be the one who gets blamed. It wouldn't be strange if their offensive started at any moment, yet people like that still remain.”

“Haha, you’re having a hard time because of the higher-ups.”

“…That higher-up is shouldering all the resentment alone. It’s not my place to be complaining.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

At Durand’s questioning tone, Giselle sent him a quizzical look.

“…?”

“Most higher-ups don't really care about the hardships of their subordinates.”

“Sergeant Durand, even if you are treated as an exception within the army, your words are inappropriate for your rank.”

“Whoops, my apologies, Major, but isn't it the truth? Someone who can give such a resolute evacuation order to a large city like this must only care about military achievements—”

Durand’s words were cut off by Giselle's low-pitched voice.

“He is also a man who fights alongside his soldiers on the front lines, risking his life. He is a man with nowhere higher to climb, yet he has decided on a politically burdensome street battle. If he were a person who cared about his own career or politics, rather than holding a street battle while listening to the residents’ resentment…”

Giselle paused for a moment, then spoke in a cold tone.

“It would have been cheaper to grind all the soldiers into the ground in a field battle while claiming to protect this city.”

“Wow. You’re quite ruthless, for someone I didn't expect, Major.”

“I’m just aware of the reality that if victory can be achieved, the lives of individual soldiers are politically undervalued. But His Excellency the Marquis did not make that choice, and that is why I respect him.”

Leon Durand let out a small laugh.

“Well, he may be somewhat different from common generals. But isn't it more because he is the fiancé of Her Excellency, Countess Aquitaine?”

This time, Giselle Davi looked as though she had been slapped.

“W-well, certainly. I did think well of him even before meeting him because of that, but aside from that, having seen him in person, the Marquis himself is more than enough—no, wait. How does a sergeant know that?”

Giselle Davi had met Christine d'Aquitaine only once, on her graduation day after completing the Grandecole course.

In her first meeting with Louis, she had mentioned being indebted to Countess Aquitaine, but it’s not like she had gone around talking about how grateful she was to her in private, right?

How does a mere mercenary from a foreign country know that she holds a favorable view of Christine d’Aquitaine?

It was a mystery, but Leon Durand, when asked the question, wore a complex and subtle expression.

He was smiling bitterly, but it didn't seem merely to escape the situation. There was a hint of pity in his expression—pity?

“What does that expression mean?”

“Hmm, well… I’m just realizing that the truth isn’t always what one thinks.”

At this point, both Giselle’s expression and tone had hardened.

“Explain yourself properly, Sergeant.”

If it was a relationship not simply gained through Louis, but rather as a major pressing a sergeant, he would have no choice but to speak.

Or had he been deliberately inducing it to become that way.

Leon Durand shrugged as if he had no choice, then opened his mouth.

“Ellen Davi, do you know how she died?”

*

Revolutionary Army Headquarters, the Commander-in-Chief's command post.

At the sudden news brought by Louis Desaix, I couldn't hide my surprise as I asked.

“Director-General Nicolas Brisseau came all the way here?”

“Yes, that is correct. He is requesting a meeting with Your Excellency the Marquis. From the looks of it, it seems Your Excellency was also unaware of this. I have shown him to the guest quarters for now, but what should we do?”

Desaix also asked with a look of complete surprise.

“Hmm…”

With the Krafte Army's offensive imminent, it was surprising for the Director-General of the Liberty Party to come all the way to this dangerous front line.

And without any prior notice?

Surely he hadn't come to protest about the evacuation of the residents in Barua.

To be honest, it was a situation where he would have nothing to say even if I just sent him back. Conversely, it meant he had come with an agenda so important that he had to meet me despite that.

In any case, the Director-General of the Liberty Party had maintained a cooperative relationship, if you could call it that, from the early days of the revolution, and had never been hostile.

With the decline of the Revolutionary Party and the Central Party taking over the assembly, and Christine taking charge of Francia’s economy, things had become a little awkward between us, but at the very least, I wouldn’t hear good things for sending back a person who had come this far empty-handed.

“I'll meet him for now.”

“I understand. I will have him brought.”

I followed Desaix outside and took in the sight of the city, where all residents had been evacuated and fortifications were underway.

A prosperous city in east-central Francia was now a bleak and tense scene.

“Haha, doesn’t it look like a huge fortress? Well, the process is a bit noisy, though.”

“Ah, I received the report. It's not surprising.”

There had been several reports of considerable opposition during the evacuation and reinforcement process, but it couldn't be helped.

It was surprising that the Krafte Army, on the eve of a decisive battle, had belatedly sent troops to its homeland. This was an uncharacteristic choice for the Great King. But even so, if we were to engage them again in a field battle without a clear countermeasure, the losses would be enormous.

I feel sorry for the residents here, but if we lose the war, the entity that could compensate them will disappear.

For now, we have to win the war, and then devise a plan to somehow provide compensation.

After walking with Desaix for a while, we arrived at the guest quarters where Nicolas Brisseau waited.

…Though to call it guest quarters, it was just a civilian house.

“Then I will take my leave now, Marquis-nim.”

“Ah, thank you for your trouble as a guide, Commander.”

It wasn’t a job for someone of his rank.

Louis Desaix must have understood this, because he gave a small laugh and saluted.

“The officers on the line are all busy.”

After seeing off Desaix, I entered the building, and Nicolas Brisseau, who had been waiting in a chair, slowly stood up.

“It has been a long time, Director-General Brisseau. I apologize for being late, as this was unexpected.”

Perhaps because of the barb in my words, Brisseau replied with a bitter smile.

“This old man who came without any prior notice is the problem. It has been a long time, Marquis Lafayette. You look well.”

Perhaps because it was said by a politician, a former lawyer over 50 with sparse white hair, already an old man, it sounded strangely poignant.

“The Director-General is also still vigorous.”

“Hohoho, it is strange to hear that from a marquis in his prime. I am already of a fading generation…”

“The members of the Liberty Party would not welcome such words.”

Hearing my words, Brisseau gave another bitter smile.

The Revolutionary Party had a clear radical identity and the legacy of Maximilien Le Jidor, while the Central Party was where conservative forces, mainly nobles who had abandoned the old regime and joined the revolution, had rallied.

Compared to them, the moderate Liberty Party, which had been with the revolution from the beginning and maintained its Director-General position with Nicolas Brisseau, did not have such a strong image.

Perhaps if Nicolas Brisseau were to announce his retirement, they would all try to dissuade him.

“Do you like coffee?”

“Ah, coffee is good.”

Hearing Brisseau’s reply, I poured the coffee that had been prepared in advance, prepared two cups, and sat down across from him.

I had said I didn't need coffee in front of that damned Great King, but in fact, the Great King’s coffee had been quite delicious.

We leisurely enjoyed the coffee's aroma and spent time together.

When I remained silent, Nicolas Brisseau spoke first.

“Will you be able to win this battle, Marquis Lafayette?”

“Well, victory and defeat are always possible on the battlefield. I can only prepare thoroughly, reduce variables, and do my best to lead us to victory. As you know, their great king is more formidable than any we have faced, so I cannot guarantee victory.”

“Yes, I see.”

Even though it was a standard answer for a commander-in-chief, Brisseau was silent for a moment, savoring the aroma of the coffee as if mulling over my answer.

What on earth did he come all this way to say, taking so long? I have much work to do.

Just as my questions deepened, Nicolas Brisseau slowly opened his mouth.

“We have known each other for quite a long time, have we not?”

“…Yes, we have.”

When we wanted to contact the revolutionary government, which was then the Republic, it was Nicolas Brisseau who showed interest in us first.

It was because he had contacted Christine first that we were able to negotiate with the revolutionary government.

Although that negotiation had been leaked to the revolutionary government, leading to the unprecedented situation of Maximilien Le Jidor following along…

Thinking back now, even that is a memory.

As I let out a natural dry laugh, Brisseau spoke again.

“At that time, Countess Aquitaine contacted the revolutionary government first. To be precise, it was probably at your request.”

“That is correct, Director-General Brisseau.”

An answer given without much thought.

“…Before our revolutionary government even knew of your existence, you, who were nobles of the old regime, recognized us not as rebels but as a party to negotiate with and extended a hand to us.”

But as Brisseau’s words continued, I, too, felt a sense of dissonance.

“At that time, I was very happy. I was fed up with that bloody revolution, and it was encouraging that there were nobles of the old regime with whom it was possible to compromise.”

Nicolas Brisseau’s expression was not that of someone telling a fond memory…

He was clearly harboring doubt and wariness.

“But now I wonder. How was such a thing possible? How were Marquis Lafayette and Countess Aquitaine, unlike those nobles of the old regime, able to gather forces in the south? During that miserable civil war, how were they able to accumulate such an astonishing amount of capital and military power, and extend a hand to us?”

I knew that conspiracy theories had circulated within the revolutionary government.

But since there was no particular evidence and it was better to let sleeping dogs lie, the matter had been glossed over.

But why now, of all times?

At this particular moment?

“How were you, despite the significant weakness of being nobles of the old regime, able to become the leaders of the revolutionary government in the midst of that chaos and upheaval?”

Nicolas Brisseau’s tone was calm, but his gaze was sharp, as if it would pierce me.

“…Marquis Lafayette. Did you not know, in the chaos of the civil war, that a revolution would occur, and even how it would unfold?”

While I was choosing my words to answer, Nicolas Brisseau slowly shook his head and spoke again.

“There were those who harbored such doubts, but they thought it was realistically impossible. However, it makes sense if you consider that the marquis, having joined hands with some power, had induced the outbreak and development of the revolution.”

Nicolas Brisseau ran a hand over his coffee cup and, after a moment of silence, spoke again.

“Marquis Lafayette, Countess Aquitaine. How did you, before the revolution even broke out, manage to acquire a vast fortune through dealings with demons?”

This.

Is this something that could be discovered by a mere Krafte informant?

“I ask you, Marquis Lafayette. You, the guardian of the revolution. You, whom we believed had protected Francia against demons and foreign powers.”

The one who came to my mind at that moment was not the Great King.

Paimon…!

“…Are you truly on Francia’s side?”