The envelope was delivered by hand no seal, no markings.
General Delon read it twice.
The words weren’t long, but the ssage was clear.
The plan had been nearly exposed.
Rivet had handled it, for now.
But that single mont of exposure changed everything.
Delon stood at the window of his Lyon office, staring out at the greying skyline.
He could feel it the ti turning against them.
Every day they waited was a day more likely for soone to talk, for soone to notice the subtle shifts across the country.
The ghosts had begun to wake.
And France, old and tired, wasn’t blind.
He turned sharply. "Get Beauchamp. Now."
Fifteen minutes later, General Beauchamp entered, adjusting the cuffs of his coat as he stepped in.
"I assu this isn’t a social call," Beauchamp said, closing the door behind him.
Delon handed him the note. "Rivet killed a man last night."
Beauchamp’s expression didn’t change.
He read it quickly and folded it.
"He always was thorough."
Delon nodded. "But this was close. Too close. We don’t get another warning."
Beauchamp took a seat. "Then we move?"
Delon didn’t sit.
He paced. "Nearly everything is in place. Reserves redirected. Armored units are staged under the guise of training exercises. Supply lines secured. Internal communication lines are already being rerouted through friendly nodes."
"And the broadcast team?"
"Embedded at ORTF. They’ll seize control of transmission within twenty minutes of the start."
Beauchamp leaned back. "The most surprising part, really... is Moreau. Do you realize how many units have answered him already? Unofficially, off the record. But they’re aligned. Completely."
Delon stopped pacing. "That’s what reassures ."
Beauchamp raised an eyebrow. "Reassures?"
Delon nodded. "Because when the smoke clears, this can’t be our regi. Not ours to rule. It must be his. The n follow him. They trust him. He’s not a politician. He bleeds. That matters more than ideology."
Beauchamp sighed. "So we make the final push?"
Delon looked him square in the eye. "We do."
The eting was held in an abandoned customs house outside Limoges.
Moreau arrived alone.
Delon and Beauchamp were already there, huddled over a thick folder filled with tactical maps, troop rosters, and encrypted communiqués.
No greetings.
Just nods.
Delon gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit. We’ve decided."
Moreau sat, folding his coat behind him. "I figured. What tipped it?"
"Rivet," Beauchamp said. "He nearly had to start a war last night just to keep one letter quiet."
Moreau’s eyes narrowed. "He cleaned it?"
"Thoroughly."
Delon pushed the folder toward him. "It’s ti."
Moreau opened it.
Inside was the plan sharp, structured, and unflinching.
A military coup dressed as a national restoration.
Delon pointed to the central map. "We take Paris in three phases."
PHASE ONE: INITIATION (T-0 to T 2 hours)
Target Ti: 04:00 hours, local.
Initial Assets:
2 armored battalions stationed at Versailles and Saint-Denis (already under our control).
3 motorized infantry units disguised as riot control platoons inside Paris.
Communications commandos embedded inside Montparnasse ORTF transmission tower.
Objectives:
Seize and secure the Élysée Palace, Matignon, National Assembly, and Interior Ministry within the first 90 minutes.
Paralyze Gendarrie response units via rerouted dispatch orders (prepared by Lamarque and Sabatier).
Cut off all eastbound rail lines and delay foreign diplomatic communication from within embassies via electronic jamming.
Key Action:
At T 00:00, simultaneous blackout across critical governnt districts.
ORTF will switch live feed to pre-recorded national ergency ssage. Moreau will appear on broadcast at T 2:00.
PHASE TWO: CONTAINNT (T 2 to T 10 hours)
Target Tifra: Morning rush hours to midday.
Secondary Units:
7 rapid deploynt regints mobilized from Dijon, Rennes, Lyon, and Le Mans.
Naval coordination team in Le Havre ready to intercept any signals leaving the coast.
Civilian-facing unit will manage food distribution, curfew enforcent, and public order.
Objectives:
Establish a visible military presence without triggering panic.
Deliver a national address declaring the ergency transfer of power and the suspension of the existing governnt "for national survival."
Freeze the accounts and movents of top political leaders and party chiefs.
Seize control of Paris Police Prefecture and Ministry of Justice without bloodshed.
PHASE THREE: RESTRUCTURE (T 12 hours onward)
Governnt Transition:
Formation of a provisional council composed of military, civilian, and neutral observers.
Delon and Beauchamp to resign from active service within 48 hours after transfer.
Moreau appointed as provisional leader until national referendum within 12 months.
Civil Order:
Schools and businesses to reopen within 72 hours.
Travel restrictions within 5 major cities.
All foreign dia escorted under military supervision.
Bureaucratic purge list initiated (lists A, B, and C).
Long-Term Strategy:
Reopen judicial investigations into past war profiteering and political corruption.
Dissolve the National Assembly and call for constituent elections.
Rewrite military code to prevent future internal decay.
Moreau stared at the map for a long mont.
Then he flipped the folder shut and looked up.
"It’s clean," he said. "Risky, but clean."
Beauchamp smiled faintly. "We’ve had ti."
Delon leaned forward. "Now it’s your turn. How many n can you command directly? Ones loyal only to you not to the stars on our shoulders?"
Moreau didn’t answer imdiately.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a smaller file.
Tossed it onto the table.
"Everything you asked for," he said. "Code-nad cells, current location, commanding officers."
Delon opened it.
Flipped a page.
Then another.
Then his brow furrowed.
Beauchamp looked over his shoulder.
They scanned page after page.
Infantry brigades.
Recon units.
Artillery clusters.
Nas they’d never briefed, never activated.
Delon’s voice was quiet. "These are... yours?"
Moreau nodded. "Most were trained under . Others followed after the Ridge Bravo massacre. When Paris called disposable, they called family."
Beauchamp stared at him. "How many?"
Moreau didn’t smile, but his eyes hardened with the kind of calm that frightened n in war.
"Fifty thousand. Not counting auxiliaries."
The silence in the room was absolute.
Delon finally leaned back in his chair, setting the file down like it weighed a ton. "Jesus Christ."
Beauchamp laughed once, almost incredulous. "You were building this army the whole ti. We thought we were leading the revolution, but you..."
"I didn’t plan a revolution," Moreau said quietly. "I planned a reckoning."
Delon looked at him. "So did we."
The three n sat there for a mont longer, no words left to say.
Just the map.
Delon lifted the glass bottle of cognac from the crate beside him.
He poured three shots.
They raised their glasses.
"To war?" Beauchamp asked.
Moreau shook his head.
"To ending it."
They clinked glasses.
Delon said it first.
"Vive la France."
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