The dinner table was filled with laughter as Charles and Aelisha reminisced about teachers and classmates, keeping the conversation light and cheerful.
After the al, Charles politely saw Aelisha and Aunt Lina to the car, giving Laurent instructions to escort them ho.
Western social interactions aren't particularly complicated—there's a routine to it, almost scripted by now. This likely applied only to common folk, as Charles had heard that upper society relationships could be much more intricate, involving a kind of "everyone-for-themselves" or even "mass celebrations."
Returning to his room, Camille quickly discarded her plate and erged from the kitchen, wiping her hands while asking Charles, her eyes full of expectation: "So, what do you think?"
"What do you an?" Charles played dumb.
"Co on, you're eighteen now," Camille said. "It's ti to get a girlfriend, and you're busy saving the world in the army..."
Charles rolled his eyes. "Saving the world" was a modern-day insult, after all.
Although, what Charles was doing could indeed be described as "saving the world."
"Aelisha is a good girl," Camille insisted, pulling Charles to sit at the table. "She's joined the Communications Corps—she's part of the military, fighting for France just like you."
"The Communications Corps?" Charles had never heard of that before.
"Yes," Camille answered, though she didn't know much about it herself. She unconsciously looked toward Deyoka for clarification.
Deyoka chid in, "It started three months ago. The military began recruiting won for communications tasks. They mainly deliver ssages or docunts by motorcycle, operating in rear areas where it's safe."
Charles understood. This was a result of manpower shortages—won were replacing n in tasks like farming, working in munitions factories, and even filling roles as police or politicians. Essentially, n were sent to the front lines, and won were left to handle everything else in the rear.
It was also an opportunity to elevate the social status of won.
Camille leaned in closer, continuing her push: "She's also an admirer of yours, Charles. Her father is a soldier, a serving major. I think you two would have a lot in common…"
"Mom," Charles interrupted, "we're not really a match. She seems too young."
Camille looked at him in surprise. "But she's your classmate, Charles. You're the sa age!"
Deyoka, however, gave a subtle nod of understanding.
It wasn't about age. Charles's understanding of the world had far surpassed that of soone his age, and he found conversations with peers rather childish.
Deyoka spoke up, "What Charles might need is a girlfriend who can talk to him about war, inventions, or making money."
Camille shot Deyoka a sharp look. "Do you think there's a woman like that? Soone as exceptional as Charles?"
Deyoka responded calmly, "I'm not sure, but I don't think it would be soone like Aelisha."
Camille set her jaw, her voice tinged with frustration: "Then tell , what kind of woman should it be?"
"I've already said it." Deyoka shrugged. "It takes fate, Camille. I believe there will be soone like that eventually…"
Charles, seizing the opportunity, stood up. "Once you've figured it out, let know. I'm a little tired."
With that, he hurriedly dashed up the stairs to his room, leaving Camille and Deyoka staring after him in the living room.
It had been a long ti since Charles had woken up in his own room without being roused by an alarm. He pulled the covers off and stretched, only to look out the window and realize it was already well past noon. Startled, he cursed, "Damn it, I overslept!"
He quickly threw on his military uniform, rushed downstairs, and grabbed a piece of bread from the table before heading out the door.
Camille seed to have already been preparing lunch. She called after him from behind, "Where are you going, Charles?"
"To the tractor factory!" Charles responded without looking back, waving his hand behind him.
It was only a few hundred ters, so Charles couldn't be bothered to call Laurent for a ride. He simply decided to walk—or rather, jog.
As he made his way through the neighborhood, his neighbors cheerfully waved at him.
Aunt Elisa called out, "Want a croissant, Charles?"
"No thanks." Charles waved the bread in his hand. "Thanks, Aunt Elisa."
Aunt Carla leaned out from the pizza shop, shouting, "Slow down, kid. Is there a country waiting for you to save it?"
Charles, chewing the bread, couldn't respond, so he just half-turned and waved in acknowledgnt.
His guards appeared on both sides, at first just two, but then more and more appeared, all carrying rifles as though heading to the battlefield.
A captain stepped forward, nervously asking, "What's going on, Major? Do you need to notify anyone?"
"No, it's fine," Charles said, a bit exasperated. He felt as though he was being watched constantly. "Return to your posts."
"Yes, Major," the guards dispersed under the captain's orders.
A few minutes later, Charles rushed into Deyoka's office, asking, "Father, where's the 'Saint Chamond'?"
"'Saint Chamond'?" Deyoka thought for a mont. "It's in the warehouse, from when it was shipped over from Paris."
It had been delivered by rail, with direct access to the tractor factory warehouse.
Charles checked his pocket watch—11:00 AM. He still had over four hours before he had to report back to camp. There was no ti to waste.
"Who's in charge of the tractor factory research facility, Father?" Charles asked.
"It's been Joseph," Deyoka replied, then asked, "Why?"
Joseph was Matthew's father. He didn't know much about equipnt; he was more involved with logistics and coordination.
"What about the design?" Charles asked again.
"Matthew," Deyoka answered. "He and Colonel Estini are working together. They often discuss ideas. I hear they're thinking about designing a new type of tank."
Estini and Matthew made a perfect team—Estini had expertise in military tactics and battlefield experience, while Matthew excelled in chanical engineering, making them an ideal pair for designing a new tank.
But that wasn't Charles's concern right now.
"Tell Matthew to co see ," Charles instructed. "I'll be waiting for him in the warehouse."
In the tractor factory's third warehouse, the lights flickered on to reveal three 'Saint Chamonds.' Charles walked around one, occasionally asuring its dinsions with his hands.
At that mont, the sound of footsteps echoed in the doorway. Matthew stood there with a smile, looking at Charles. "Long ti no see. Looks like you've made major now."
"How's everything?" Charles glanced at Matthew. He had grown a beard, which made him appear more mature. His face had thinned out a little, but his eyes were still sharp.
Matthew shrugged, grinning. "Can't you tell?"
With that, Matthew pulled a chair over, sat down with one leg crossed, and turned his gaze to the 'Saint Chamond.' "So, what's your plan for changing it?"
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