Chapter 186: Delon mouth is more toxic than Paris sewer.

Words : 1047 Updated : Sep 21st, 2025

Chapter 186: Delon mouth is more toxic than Paris sewer.General Beauchamp stood near the back, arms folded, listening without speaking. They were no longer debating the function of Moreau’s weapon. That part was over. Now came the war no prototype could shoot its way through funding. Sёarᴄh the nôᴠel Fire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Even though a comprise has been made and they are ready to accept this invention, it still doesn’t change the fact that every move they do still has to match rational capacity. Every franc spend must be accounted for or this is what they want others to think. It is politicis which unfortunately neither Delon and Beauchamp can change. "If we replace two PAPs per battalion with these recoilless rifles, what does it look like?" asked a colonel from the budgeting office. A young defense analyst flipped through her notes. "Assuming an initial order of one thousand units, plus ammunition, we’re talking six million francs up front. That includes industrial retooling, alloy procurement, and distribution." "That’s not outrageous," said a lieutenant colonel. "Less than reinforcing one Maginot sector. Not too much for the republic even with its streched finance." "It’s not the amount," replied someone from the finance ministry. "It’s the timing. We’ll need to offset those francs from somewhere. Tanks? Training programs? Maintenance. Not to mention France also has a navy to look out for we cannot use all the fund on army." An armaments procurement officer cleared his throat. "Material-wise, it’s straightforward. Forged steel, breechlock, venturi cones. The only complication is ammo, new tooling lines, fuse housing, brass supply. Unless Hotchkiss already has capacity." "They will," Beauchamp said calmly. "They just don’t know it yet. I talked to Moreau who told me given Hotchkiss history of making weapons they already have developed the capability for this. All they need is bit of refinement and they are good to go." "And transport? Alpine terrain? Colonies?" "If a mule can carry a 75mm field pack, it can carry two of these. This is easy, I don’t this it will affect anything other then someone’s pocket." A colonel muttered. "We’re assuming that our troops will be able to deploy these effectively," someone said. "Training protocols are included," Beauchamp said. "Two-week rotation course. Drafted by Moreau himself. Infantry adaptable within three cycles. At this point we must recognise that this guy theories are successful, they are not theories anymore which is proven in the Spanish Civil War. He wrecked the Germans even though he was outnumbered." Suddenly everyone became silent. Because they know everything Beauchamp spoke is the truth. Moreau growing influence is a result of his success and character which alway aims to rectify this army attitude toward war. A senator joked in order to defuse the awkwardness. "Let’s hope that’s faster than our pension office." The admiral leaned in. "This could change tactics entirely. Reorganize field formations. Doctrine. Logistics. We should proceed carefully." "Proceeding carefully is what got us slaughtered at Sedan in 14. Also sorry to say but when it comes to doctrine I don’t think anyone here is more successful than Moreau which basically collaborates with what general said before." spoke the colonel. Beauchamp remained quiet, letting the room do the talking. Not everytime he has to defend Moreau and his invention. He needs more voices beside Delon and him to speak up. Another voice chimed in. "And if it fails in combat?" "If it fails, our infantry still die," someone else said. "The difference is now they have a fighting chance." Murmurs, nods, frowns. "Let’s not pretend we haven’t already spent more on dumber things," a civilian muttered. "There’s a ministry still paying for horseshoes in Tunisia. Not to mention just months ago a arms company applied for funding regarding some Tank that can spill fire. I mean at this point we have invested so much on shit stuff that we are left with no money to invest in something that is worth investing." There was a knock. The flap opened. General Delon entered. He didn’t say a word at first. He took off his gloves slowly. His eyes swept the room. The committee stilled. Beauchamp offered a thin smile. "Ah. General Delon. You’re early." "I was in the neighborhood," Delon said flatly. "Don’t stop on my account." No one did. Not immediately. The room shifted, uneasily. "We were discussing costs," said the budget colonel, finding his voice again. "And supply timelines." "And return on investment," added the senator. "Which, frankly, sounds like a casino pitch the way it’s been delivered." "So we’re gambling on survival now?" Delon asked, stepping closer. "Because if that’s the case, I’d bet on the man who designed his own dice." Beauchamp’s mouth twitched. Delon mouth is more toxic than Paris sewer. "We appreciate the innovation," said the admiral carefully, "but political will is fragile. You know that." "Then reinforce it with steel," Delon replied. The person from finance ministey spoke. "This sets a precedent. Every engineer with a theory will demand resources." "Let them," Delon said, voice calm. "And if they succeed, give them medals. If they fail, give them silence. But don’t sit here and talk yourself into paralysis." He stood near Beauchamp now, hands behind his back, watching each face. One of the committee members cleared his throat. "The battlefield is changing. Maybe... maybe we should change with it." "That’s the first wise thing I’ve heard all week," Delon muttered. The colonel flipped through a spreadsheet. "Production timelines show first deployment ready by summer." "And full supply by year’s end," Beauchamp said. The senator raised his hand. "Let’s vote." Pens clicked. Papers passed. One by one, signatures appeared. When the last name was signed, Delon smirked. "Well. Looks like you all love your life dearly." Beauchamp stood still for a moment, then smiled shaking his head. Knowing that these people will have nightmare of Delon taunts. As the group began to stand, Delon turned to Beauchamp and said, low and sharp. "You didn’t have to call me in." "I didn’t," Beauchamp replied. "But you came anyway." They both smiled. "Now," Delon said. "Let’s see how much noise one good idea can make in a war machine rusted to core."

Chapter 186: Delon mouth is more toxic than Paris sewer.

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