In the town of Davaz, every household was aglow with lights, Christmas trees adorned with twinkling decorations, and cheerful voices drifting from within. Charles's home was no different, and he had received an extraordinarily special gift: a horse.
Yes, a real horse. Deyoka and Camille had been preparing for this day for over two weeks. They purchased the neighbor Daniel's old storage shed, converted it into a stable, and even hired Mrs. Daniel to tend to the horse for 30 francs a month.
That afternoon, Charles had met the horse. It was a strong, pure white steed with a graceful gait, each hooffall making a crisp, echoing sound. Deyoka had equipped it with a brand-new, shining set of tack, and Charles had even tried mounting it and taken a brief ride.
He understood the sentiment behind Deyoka and Camille's gift. With this Christmas, he would officially come of age, and that likely meant heading to the front lines. As a commanding officer, not knowing how to ride could be a serious problem—what if his unit were trapped and his only means of escape was on horseback?
Charles wanted to tell them that in the age of cars, motorcycles, sidecars, and even planes, fleeing on horseback was often more dangerous than going on foot, especially for an officer. But he refrained, not wanting to spoil the thoughtfulness behind their gift.
At the moment, the family was enjoying a lavish Christmas dinner: roasted turkey, foie gras, cream cake, smoked fish… Everything was delicious, though the turkey was a little too tough for Charles's liking. It wasn't that Camille's cooking skills were lacking; rather, he thought the bird itself was too dry and chewy to be ideally roasted.
"It's been a magical year," Deyoka said, a bit tipsy and clearly joyful, having had a few drinks. "Just a few months ago, Charles was still a high school student, and now look at him…" Deyoka raised his glass to Charles, his eyes brimming with pride. "He's a colonel, a hero. It all feels like a dream!"
Camille beamed with pride, raising her glass as well. "To Charles!"
"To Charles!" Deyoka echoed, draining his glass.
Charles glanced at his own glass of grape juice, clearly left out of the wine toasts.
Suddenly, the sound of car brakes echoed outside, and Deyoka and Camille's faces fell. From the sound of it, they guessed it was Laurant, and a visit from him at this hour couldn't mean anything good.
Camille frowned, whispering, "Surely they're not here to take Charles back already…"
Deyoka held up a hand, signaling for Camille not to say any more, then rose to open the door before Laurant could knock.
Laurant rushed in, offering a quick nod of apology to Deyoka and Camille before turning urgently to Charles. "Emergency, Colonel. The General has ordered you back to headquarters immediately."
A worry crept over Charles. Was Germany launching an offensive?
As they drove back, Charles realized he'd guessed wrong. It wasn't that the Germans were attacking, nor were the French launching any offensive. It was something else entirely.
A ceasefire. The entire front had gone silent.
Inside the Paris Defense Command Headquarters, all was quiet.
This wasn't due to laziness—there simply was nothing to do. For hours, they'd received no updates from the front lines. The few messages that came through were the perfunctory "All's quiet."
Gallieni, however, was in no rush. He sipped his coffee calmly, and upon seeing Charles climb the stairs, he put down his cup. "Sorry to pull you from your evening, Colonel, but this concerns the Honors Gazette."
"I heard there's a ceasefire?" Charles asked.
"Yes," Gallieni confirmed. "We're not certain where it started, but it spread like a plague down the entire front. For hundreds of kilometers, not a single gunshot, not a single cannon boom. Communication officers refuse to report anything, and some have even replied 'Radio malfunction.' We've completely lost command and communication with the front."
Charles's gaze shifted to the pile of newspapers on Cobalt's desk, worried that Cobalt might have published something promoting a ceasefire, which would be a serious matter.
"No, Colonel," Cobalt said quickly, standing up. "Don't worry. I've checked the last ten days' issues, and there's been no mention of anything like that." The source of thɪs content is Novᴇ(l)Fɪre .ɴᴇt
Charles nodded, relieved.
"You misunderstand, Colonel," Gallieni said, tapping his finger on the desk. "The Commander-in-Chief is not pleased with this situation—he's furious. We've received intelligence that an unofficial agreement may have been reached at the front, with soldiers planning a 48-hour truce."
Charles found this interesting. He even thought that maybe the governments on both sides could take this opportunity to sit down and negotiate, perhaps discuss the reasons for the war or the possibility of a more formal armistice.
Something like the Germans withdrawing to their own borders, and Britain and France refraining from revenge.
If the First World War ended this way, it would be much better than the death toll of millions that eventually unfolded.
But he knew this was wishful thinking.
Although the soldiers on both sides had no desire to continue the war, the higher-ups, who didn't face any direct threat, were determined to keep fighting. They believed they could defeat the other side and gain immense benefits from it.
"The Commander-in-Chief thinks it's time for the Honors Gazette to step up," Gallieni said, giving Charles a look of mixed emotions. "He wants you to use the Gazette to speak out and urge the soldiers to abandon this absurd truce."
Charles didn't hesitate. "No, I won't do it."
Gallieni sighed, his tone firm. "That's an order, Colonel."
"General," Cobalt interjected. "That would be useless and would ruin the Gazette."
He elaborated, "The Honors Gazette is a newspaper; it should always stand on the side of the soldiers. Only then will it earn their trust and be an effective tool for morale. If we turn it into a mouthpiece for military orders, the soldiers will quickly reject it, and it'll become nothing more than scrap paper."
Gallieni gave a slight nod of agreement.
He seemed to grasp the true intent behind the Commander-in-Chief's order. It was likely a chance to undermine both the Honors Gazette and Charles. If Charles issued a call to arms now, the soldiers would grow resentful.
But this was still an order...
As Gallieni mulled it over, Charles spoke up.
"I have a different idea, General." Charles said calmly, "I'm more than willing to follow the Commander-in-Chief's directive. But I believe… that the person to address the troops should be the Commander himself. After all, he's the French Commander-in-Chief. If he can't rally the soldiers, then who can?"
Gallieni's eyes lit up, realizing exactly how to respond to Joffre's order.
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