Chapter 463: One Out of Seven Hundred
Lucia was restless, unsure of whether Charles would welcome her.
He might refuse her outright; after all, it was wartime, and he had countless responsibilities, including matters concerning Belgium's survival.
Or perhaps he would meet her but remain cold, his thoughts occupied by "The Lady in White" and intelligence matters.
Lucia glanced around cautiously, noticing the delight or hope in their eyes. Regret began to creep in—she shouldn't have brought them.
She should have firmly refused or come alone. That way, she wouldn’t risk embarrassment in front of her family or let them down.
...
As Charles descended from the command building, he wrestled with a similar dilemma.
How should he face Lucia?
Directly ask if she had intelligence and then send her away?
That would be too blunt, hardly how a couple should act.
But how were couples supposed to act?
Charles slowed his steps. Reuniting with his girlfriend after a long absence should be a joyous occasion, so he should...
Charles gradually quickened his pace, then broke into a run.
When he reached the doorway and spotted Lucia from a distance, he excitedly called her name, rushed over, swept her up in an embrace, spun her around, and unhesitatingly kissed her passionately.
That’s how it was done in the movies.
However, Charles was caught off guard when Lucia seemed resistant.
She gently pushed him back and whispered in his ear, "There are people watching."
Charles froze. Only then did he notice a few individuals staring at him in stunned silence—they had come with Lucia.
Adjusting her dress, Lucia softly introduced them to Charles. “This is my father, my mother, and my younger brother.”
Charles was taken aback, casting a quick glance at Lucia. Meet her parents? That wasn’t part of the plan!
Mr. Girard nervously rubbed his hands and stepped forward to shake Charles’ hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, General. I’m Girard.”
“A pleasure, Mr. Girard,” Charles replied.
Mrs. Girard smiled warmly as she approached, her gaze on Charles filled with the delight of discovering a treasure. “Hello, General. I’m Lucia’s mother.”
“Hello, Mrs. Girard.”
Meanwhile, the usually lively Steijn froze in place. It wasn’t until Lucia nudged him that he jolted to attention, hurriedly stepping forward to clasp Charles’ hand with both of his own. “Ge-General, I, I…”
His hands trembled, and his teeth chattered as he stammered, failing to complete a sentence.
“His name is Steijn,” Lucia interjected with a roll of her eyes. “He was just saying how much he wanted to join the military to fight the Germans, but now he’s acting like a coward.”
Charles offered Steijn a reassuring smile. “That’s because I’m not German. I trust that he’ll be a brave warrior when facing the enemy.”
“Y-Yes, General.” Steijn nodded gratefully. “I promise!”
Lucia shot Charles a glare and whispered, “He’s only seventeen.”
“Oh.” Charles immediately realized the issue and shifted his focus back to Steijn. “Then you should work on building your strength and be prepared to answer your country’s call!”
Steijn, though somewhat disappointed, straightened his posture and replied, “Yes, General!”
Mr. and Mrs. Girard were astounded—since when was Steijn so compliant? But Lucia understood the truth.
It wasn’t compliance; it was that Steijn regarded Charles’ words as orders.
As they entered the airfield, Steijn’s jaw dropped in awe at the sight of the rows of fighter planes. He had never seen Sopwith Camels up close before—these were the most advanced aircraft of the Allied forces. Belgium had none of them, and all he could do was gaze in envy.
...
Charles led the group into a reception room on the ground floor.
Regulations prohibited civilians from entering the command center. A mere glance at items like operational maps could potentially result in leaked secrets.
The reception room had two sofas and a coffee table. The orderly, Adrian, served them cakes, fruit, and cups of hot coffee.
Mrs. Girard’s eyes remained fixed on Charles, her beaming smile making him somewhat uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, General,” Mr. Girard said. “We hadn’t planned to disturb you, but since Lucia was visiting us in Ghent, we thought…”
Charles turned to Lucia in surprise. “You’re from Ghent?”
Lucia took a sip of coffee. “Belgium was under German occupation at the time. It didn’t matter where I was from.”
She then gave Charles a sidelong glance and said half-jokingly, “Had I known you would capture Antwerp in just one day, General, I might have asked you to look after my family.”
Everyone burst into laughter.
Mr. Girard nodded silently, relieved to see that Lucia and Charles seemed to get along well.
Charles, meanwhile, once again marveled at Lucia’s acting skills and her knack for deftly navigating social situations, turning awkward moments into lighthearted ones.
“I need your help with something,” Lucia said, voicing a request.
“What is it?” Charles asked, his mind jumping to cars, houses, bank accounts, or even exorbitant dowries—things one typically discussed when meeting the family.
But... those weren’t customs here.
Lucia tilted her head toward Steijn, seated across from her. “He has a revolver.”
“Lucia!” Steijn protested, standing to voice his discontent at her betrayal.
But when Charles glanced at him, Steijn immediately deflated and slumped back into his seat.
Charles stood and gestured for Steijn to join him. “We’re about the same age, Steijn, and we both share an interest in the military. We should have plenty to talk about.”
“Yes, General.” Steijn obediently followed.
Charles led him to the window and pointed to the aircraft taking off outside. “Do you know what kind of personnel we need most right now?”
Steijn shook his head blankly. “I don’t know, General.”
Charles gestured toward the roaring planes soaring into the sky. “Pilots, Steijn.”
“Right now, we have only a little over 700 pilots capable of combat missions. And that’s with minimal losses, as the Germans have yet to develop advanced aircraft.”
“Can you imagine it? We have millions of soldiers, but only 700 pilots.”
“When the Germans develop aircraft capable of challenging ours, we’ll be desperately short of pilots.”
“So, do you want to be one in a million or one out of seven hundred?”
Steijn’s eyes lit up, his chest heaving with excitement. “Are you saying I could become a pilot?”
“Why not?” Charles replied. “As long as you’re part of the Allies and can fly a plane, we need you.”
Steijn straightened his posture and answered, “Understood, General. I want to be one out of seven hundred!”
“Good.” Charles nodded, his gaze returning to Steijn. “If you want to be one out of seven hundred, you need to study not revolvers but the principles of flight and related knowledge. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” Steijn stood even straighter. “I’ll hand over my revolver as soon as I get back.”
Mrs. Girard watched Charles and Steijn by the window with a look of satisfaction. She lightly patted Lucia’s hand. “He’s excellent—not just at fighting.”
“Mm,” Lucia replied, lowering her head to drink her coffee, hiding the melancholy in her eyes.