Chapter 749: Internal Division
Clemenceau was clearly tempted.
His face shifted between hesitation and desire, his emotions flickering for several moments before he finally regained composure.
He smiled faintly, but his tone carried a tinge of sarcasm:
"A fine tactic, General.
You've taken the art of battlefield strategy and turned it against us—splitting us apart from within."
"But you've overlooked something: you are now our greatest enemy."
"As long as you remain, no matter who among us becomes Prime Minister, we'll be nothing more than puppets."
It was true.
Charles now stood as a towering figure, commanding the military, political influence, and industrial might all at once.
He wasn't quite omnipotent—but considering he was only nineteen years old, and had been in power for less than two years, it was terrifying.
If he continued on this path, no one would be able to rival him.
Charles didn't deny it.
But he had foreseen this concern.
He gave a calm smile and countered:
"Monsieur Clemenceau, you were once Prime Minister, and Briand is Prime Minister now.
Weren't you both already puppets?"
Clemenceau froze—then slowly nodded.
Yes, behind every Prime Minister stood the invisible hand of powerful capitalists.
From the very beginning, the Cabinet had always been subject to their control.
Charles continued:
"If one must be a puppet, what difference does it make whose puppet you are?
The point is—who gets to be Prime Minister. Don't you agree?"
Clemenceau fell silent.
Charles was right.
Whether France lived or died, whether it remained a republic or turned into a dictatorship—none of it mattered to Clemenceau.
He wanted one thing: power.
His interests.
And without Charles' support, Clemenceau's chances of returning to the premiership were slim to none.
But with it… he could instantly rise above his rivals in Parliament.
Seeing that Clemenceau was wavering, Charles fanned the flames a little further:
"You know I'll never give up my military post.
That means I'll never be a threat to your position.
From that standpoint, I'm not your enemy."
Clemenceau nodded slowly again.
In principle, there was no conflict of interest between them.
Their rivalry had only ever been the result of pressure from Briand and the capitalists.
But then he hesitated.
"I've long been Briand's advisor, General.
Many decisions were made through joint discussions between us.
I can't just turn around and accuse him."
He was a co-conspirator.
If Briand's scandals came to light, Clemenceau would fall with him.
Charles answered calmly:
"Then you need new leverage."
"New leverage?" Clemenceau echoed, deep in thought.
Then he sighed and shook his head.
He couldn't think of any weapon that could take Briand down without implicating himself.
Charles took a sip of coffee and strolled to the window, gazing into the rain-soaked city.
He spoke without looking back:
"I heard France has two refineries in Romania. Is that right?"
That had been true since around 1850, after Romania discovered oil.
Britain, the U.S., and France had all set up oil refineries there to secure their gasoline supply.
"Yes," Clemenceau said.
"But ever since the Dardanelles were sealed off, we haven't been able to export it. The stockpiles are just sitting in warehouses. Some plants have already shut down."
He didn't understand why Charles brought this up.
Charles continued:
"One of those plants is called the Fidèle Refinery.
And as I understand it, Briand holds shares in it—quite a few, in fact."
Clemenceau nodded again.
"Yes. I'm not sure how much, maybe 10%."
Charles turned around.
"So tell me… what if the Fidèle Refinery sold all of its stockpiled gasoline to the Germans?"
Clemenceau's eyes lit up.
"Then Briand would be suspected of colluding with the enemy."
Gasoline was a strategic resource Germany desperately needed.
For a refinery from the Entente to sell it to the enemy would be an act of treason.
But then Clemenceau frowned.
"It wouldn't be easy. They wouldn't be stupid enough to sell to the Germans directly…"
"Of course not," Charles interrupted.
"But what if they didn't know they were selling it to the Germans?"
He had it all planned.
The "White Lady" would set up a fake Russian company to make the purchase.
Since Russia was an ally, there would be no reason to object.
Then that Russian company would resell the gasoline to Germany.
Briand wouldn't know.
Even Fidèle Refinery would remain unaware.
But the public?
They wouldn't care.
They'd say:
"The so-called 'sale to Russia' was just a front."
"Those capitalists sold gasoline to the Germans to avoid bankruptcy."
"They knew the truth—and pretended not to."
Politics worked that way.
The truth didn't matter—because it couldn't be proven.
The only people who'd know were the White Lady and a few middlemen.
And the middlemen would disappear—without a trace.
Not even a corpse would be found.
Even if the truth came out later, it wouldn't matter.
Briand would already be disgraced and removed, and no reversal would change that.
Meanwhile, Charles could even use the gasoline to prolong Germany's suffering—
a win-win strategy.
Clemenceau did the math in his head.
Yes—it could work.
Briand would fall.
He nodded.
"Very well.
I'll await your good news."
Charles stopped him before he left.
"Monsieur Clemenceau, I think it's best if you and Briand have a public disagreement now.
You know how important it is to collect leverage before the storm breaks."
Clemenceau grunted in agreement.
Charles was right.
If he stayed passive, when the scandal exploded, he'd be implicated too.
"How should we do it?" Clemenceau asked.
Charles answered plainly:
"Start with the Reserve Army Group commander position."
Clemenceau immediately understood.
Charles wanted to protect Gallieni.
And it was the perfect excuse—
A chance to break with Briand while winning popular and military support.
Gallieni still commanded immense respect among both soldiers and civilians.
He was seen as a hero—one of Charles' staunchest allies.
Clemenceau couldn't help but admire Charles' political acumen.
He'd found a clean solution to the Reserve Army Group problem—
and used it to secure loyalty, power, and political cover.
Even knowing he was being manipulated, Clemenceau had no choice but to agree.
"All right.
But once I cut ties with Briand, I'll be exposed to the Deuxième Bureau…"
"I'll handle that," Charles said with full confidence.
That was exactly what he wanted.
Once Clemenceau was in,
He'd have no way out.
Even his life would now lie in Charles' hands.
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