I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start Chapter 84 84 - Witnessing Victory

After breakfast, Albert I and Charles strolled along the paths of the estate.

The estate was modest, with even the dining villa only slightly larger than an average house. This setting made Albert I seem more like a farr than a king. Of course, this was only his estate in Antwerp.

"My apologies," Albert I said. "I couldn't provide you with a more lavish breakfast."

"No, it was fine," Charles replied.

He ant it—the steak had been decent. And what else would a "lavish breakfast" even include? Pizza? Turkey? Caviar?

Albert nodded, his tone growing somber. "Please understand that breakfast was prepared especially for you."

At first, Charles didn't understand what he ant, but then, as they turned a corner, he saw a scene that made it clear: Albert I had converted his estate into a shelter for his people.

In front of Charles lay a broad expanse of grassland—the estate's pasture—now filled with a haphazard array of tents. People moved between them, and a few guards walked around, distributing food.

"They are my people," Albert said, gazing thoughtfully at the crowd. "They could have fled abroad, to a safer place like Britain, but they chose to stay with . It's my duty to care for them."

Just then, soone called out, "Your Majesty, is he Charles?"

Albert nodded, straightening up and answering loudly, "Yes, he is the Charles who invented the tank and defeated the Germans. France sent him here to reinforce us—he's here to help us!"

The words stirred the crowd. People who had been sitting stood up, and others erged from their tents, gathering around Charles with hopeful expressions.

Albert turned to Charles with a smile. "You are their hope, Lieutenant! They trust you!"

Charles was puzzled. This was Belgium—a place he'd never been to before. He hadn't even t Belgians until now. Why would these strangers trust him, let alone see him as their hope?

Albert prompted him, "Aren't you going to say sothing to them?"

Charles froze, looking at the hopeful faces before him. Unsure of what to say, he hesitated, worried he might disappoint them. Finally, he stamred, "I'll do my best, but I have my limits. If, I an…"

"Of course, your strength alone has limits, Charles," Albert interjected. "But you are not alone in this. We are all with you! We'll stand united!"

Turning to the crowd, Albert raised his voice, "Tell , will you fight alongside Charles?"

One by one, the people answered:

"Yes, we will!"

"Thank you for leading us!"

"We will fight with you—for Belgium!"

...

Gradually, more and more voices joined in until the crowd was chanting as one.

Charles was baffled. He had only intended to say, "If I can't do it, I apologize," but Albert had masterfully steered the people in another direction. Charles glanced at Albert in confusion, but Albert simply raised an eyebrow, smiling and nodding at him.

Albert knew what Charles had wanted to say, and he could have let him finish. But he also understood that, in tis like these, when people were fragile, pessimism had no place. The crowd needed hope, sothing to boost their spirits.

Despite this, Albert appreciated Charles's honesty. Charles wasn't boastful, nor did he seek glory; he expressed himself genuinely, showing his true feelings. To Albert, who had heard enough grand promises, this authenticity was invaluable.

People who boasted often failed to deliver; their words didn't match their hearts. Charles, however, could achieve much but remained humble and cautious—a true embodint of the "knightly spirit."

Just then, a guard leaned in and whispered sothing to Albert.

Albert nodded, then turned to Charles. "Would you like to witness your own victory?"

"What?" Charles asked, unsure of what Albert ant.

Albert didn't explain further. He waved to the crowd and then led Charles to the other side of the pasture.

A massive balloon appeared before them, floating lightly in the air with a large wicker basket underneath, big enough to hold five or six people.

Charles's eyes widened, and his steps slowed. Was the king planning to take him up in a balloon?

Albert turned to Charles, puzzled.

Charles steeled himself. If the king deed it safe, then it probably was, he thought. Besides, if Albert had braved enemy airspace in a plane, a balloon should be nothing.

But in truth, the balloon was terrifying—especially during ascent, when it swayed unsteadily in the wind, like a drunken beast.

Charles gripped the basket's edge tightly, his breath coming fast and his face pale. Would it have killed them to put in so safety belts? Or at least provide a parachute?

Albert, on the other hand, was unruffled, holding onto a rope with one hand while scanning the distance with a pair of binoculars. Thankfully, he was too absorbed to notice that Charles was nearly scared out of his wits.

The higher they rose, the more the balloon stabilized, and Charles gradually began to calm down.

Suddenly, Albert exclaid in excitent, pointing forward, "There! They're coming!"

Charles retrieved his binoculars from their case and followed Albert's line of sight. At last, he understood what Albert had ant by "witness your victory."

In the distance, two massive cannons were slowly approaching, pulled by teams of horses. Even from over ten kiloters away, their towering barrels were clearly visible. They were none other than the Germans' "Big Bertha" artillery.

Albert retrieved a signal flag from a bag beside him and waved it to the waiting crowd below.

In response, cheers erupted from below. People clapped and celebrated, with so even hugging each other in excitent.

(End of Chapter)

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