Chapter 580: For Charles
Namur City Hall — Headquarters of the Belgian First Special Reconnaissance Corps.
King Albert I sat alone at the breakfast table in the lounge. Though the meal before him was hearty, his face was clouded with concern.
It wasn't that the breakfast lacked variety. As King, Albert I could enjoy the same high-standard meals as Charles himself. Nor was it that his accommodations were poor — though snow blanketed the city outside, the fireplace in his chamber kept the room warm and inviting. Compared to the soldiers freezing on the front lines, his situation was comfortable.
No, his mood had nothing to do with food or warmth.
It was because Charles was no longer in Belgium.
Since Charles had left, Albert I felt as though his backbone had been ripped out. Confidence, courage, even the will to fight seemed to fade.
I can't let myself think this way, he kept telling himself.
Surely I can lead my country even without Charles. Surely General Eden can command the army. Surely, out of 7 million Belgians, there must be someone capable of resisting the Germans.
He tried to puff out his chest and convince himself he was strong enough. But the next moment, his hands went limp. His utensils slid off the table.
He was right about one thing: Belgium could not do without Charles.
Without Charles, Belgium was just a shrimp among whales, always in danger of being crushed by the giants at war.
Even though Charles had already liberated Namur, Brussels, and Antwerp, connecting them into a defensive line… even though he had given them a proper defense strategy…
Charles was still the soul of the army. Without him, no one — not even Eden — felt truly prepared to face the Germans again.
Albert I groaned in his heart:
"The Sixth Army has over 200,000 troops. If Charles is their commander, doesn't that mean our armored and mechanized divisions will also be reassigned?"
"And if the troops leave, fine… but what if Charles stays in Somme and never comes back?"
"That's the real danger. As long as they keep Charles, they don't even need the rest of the army. I'd hand over the First Reconnaissance Corps to him immediately — no, I'd give him everything."
…
"Your Majesty!"
General Eden burst in from the operations room, his voice arriving before he did.
"Charles is in Belgium!"
"What?!" Albert I jumped to his feet in disbelief.
"He's returned? Why didn't I know?"
"He might not have had a way to contact you," Eden said, though his expression darkened with frustration.
"It's more complicated than that."
"What do you mean?"
"The Sixth Army Group is here too. They're stationed in Jambes, only thirty kilometers away."
Albert's expression turned heavy. He remembered hearing that a French force had rotated through Jambes, but no one had told him it was Charles's Sixth Army.
Then a spark of hope lit his face.
"That's wonderful! All of Charles's troops are here in Belgium now—"
"Your Majesty," Eden interrupted.
"From what I've heard… they've taken control of him."
"What?!"
Albert's face went pale.
"Where did you get this information? Is it reliable?"
"From our local militias. It hasn't been confirmed yet," Eden admitted.
But even with Gamelin's strict media blackout, it was impossible to completely silence the outside world. Logistics teams and support personnel still needed to interact with local Belgian forces. Rumors were bound to leak.
"They say Parliament replaced all the senior officers in the Sixth Army while Charles was on leave. He returned to find strangers running his command."
Albert nodded slowly, his face darkening with anger.
"Of course. Parliament always treated Charles as a threat.
When he only commanded 20,000 men, they could tolerate him. But 200,000? That terrifies them."
Eden stood in silence.
"What should we do, Your Majesty?"
Albert's eyes narrowed.
"They dare to act so brazenly on Belgian soil? They clearly have no respect for me, the King of this land!"
He didn't hesitate. His voice rang with command:
"Leave the Third Infantry Division here to defend Namur. The other two divisions — send them to Jambes immediately!"
"Also, mobilize every militia unit in the area. I don't care how small — send them all to Jambes."
Eden hesitated.
"Your Majesty, even if we send everything, we'll only have about 60,000 troops. The French Sixth Army Group has more than 200,000…"
"No, General Eden," Albert said sharply, cutting him off.
"You're thinking about this the wrong way.
You think it's 60,000 Belgians against 200,000 French.
But you've forgotten — whose side are the French soldiers on?"
Eden's eyes widened.
He understood.
The French troops were loyal to Charles.
If Belgium marched its army to Jambes, it wouldn't be 60,000 vs. 200,000.
It would be 60,000 Belgians plus 200,000 French soldiers versus a handful of officers sent by Parliament.
Still, Eden was cautious.
"But what about the political fallout, Your Majesty? France—"
Albert hesitated. He knew the risks.
Belgium wasn't in a position to provoke France. At this fragile stage, defying the French government could lead to severe diplomatic consequences.
As King, and as a seasoned politician, he should consider the long-term interest of his people.
But he didn't hesitate long.
"Even if we offend both France and Britain, what of it?"
"As long as we have Charles, he alone can help Belgium recover her lost land. He alone can repel any foreign invasion — even from Britain or France."
"This is our opportunity. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
France is pushing Charles away.
Belgium will be the one to catch him."
His eyes blazed.
"Execute the orders — immediately!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Eden saluted and rushed out.
Albert I strolled to the window, hands behind his back. He gazed out at the falling snow, his mood lifting.
Perhaps this moment would lead Belgium into a new golden age.
Regret it later, you fools.
Then Eden returned again.
"Your Majesty, should we inform General Tijani?"
Albert paused. He understood the question.
If Tijani, a French general, joined the operation, it would soften the appearance of a Belgian challenge to French authority. If things went south, they could blame Tijani — a safe scapegoat.
But Albert shook his head firmly.
"No. Tell no one."
"This is Belgium versus the French Parliament — for Charles."
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