I Became A Genius Of The French Royal Family [EN]: Chapter 168

Beyond the Line

Sergeant Killian is a Black non-commissioned officer in the 3rd Battalion of the 24th Regiment of the 2nd Infantry Division of Nouvelle France [New France, a fictionalized version of French colonial territories in North America].

Most of the Black people who enlisted in the Nouvelle France army came from the United States, but Killian was different.

He was an African-Canadian who had lived in Canada since his grandfather’s time.

Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that his ancestors were initially brought to the New World as slaves.

Slavery was abolished after Nouvelle France was established, but the perception of Black people didn’t improve much.

In fact, their social standing was even lower than that of the Indigenous peoples.

Lower than second-class citizens, they were considered third-class, inferior citizens.

This was the reality for Black people in Nouvelle France.

Of course, one could argue that it was still better than being a slave.

Listening to the stories of Black people who had escaped from the United States often made him think so.

But they couldn’t remain third-class citizens forever.

The reason he enlisted in the army was to escape this harsh reality, even if only a little.

After all, risking your life in the military offered a path to recognition.

This was still the primary way for Black people and Indigenous people to gain respect in Nouvelle France.

Fortunately, military life itself wasn’t too bad.

His 3rd Battalion was commanded by Davout, a trusted officer of Nouvelle France’s Governor Christian.

Davout had made significant contributions in every war, leading to his rapid promotion to division commander.

All the soldiers under Davout regarded him with pride and a sense of self-esteem.

Killian was no different.

Davout hadn’t discriminated against Black soldiers or non-commissioned officers when he was battalion commander.

He was a strict superior who emphasized principles, which Killian found reassuring.

However, even in the military, racism couldn’t be completely eradicated.

Even though it had decreased compared to the past, discrimination and ridicule still lingered.

“Hey, Blackie! You know there’s a company dinner scheduled for later, right? The division commander is coming, so get yourself together and prepare properly!”

“Yes, sir.”

They usually didn’t ask non-commissioned officers to do this, which highlighted their prejudice.

But since he was used to it, he kept his thoughts to himself and went to the bar early to prepare.

This company dinner was an important event, attended by Davout in his new role as division commander.

Of course, it was impossible for Davout to visit every unit in the division.

So, he only visited a few units that he had directly commanded.

Therefore, the officers of those units were doing everything possible to make a good impression.

“Blackie! Did you contact the bar to prepare the drinks that the division commander likes?”

“Of course, Sergeant.”

“Come to think of it, you’ve been here since the division commander was the battalion commander, right? You should try to get on his good side. Oh, I’ll help you out, so don’t worry too much.”

“Yes!”

“Good. And prepare some drinks for us in advance. You know I like cold lager, right?”

*If you like it so much, why don’t you get it yourself?* The words nearly escaped his lips, but he swallowed them back with immense patience.

What else could he do, even if it was demeaning?

It was his misfortune to be born with dark skin.

“Oh, if you need help, take your Indigenous colleague with you.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get going then.”

The path to surviving in a white-dominated society remained long and arduous.

Killian decided to be grateful for the fact that he was at least treated like a human being and headed to the bar.

※※※

‘While you’re in Nouvelle France, investigate military corruption and abuse.’

Christian had said it casually, but Davout never took any of Christian’s words lightly.

Even without that order, the Nouvelle France army was very different from the regular French army.

In addition to the majority of French people, there were British whites, Indigenous people, and even Black people who lived in Canada.

With so many different kinds of people mixed together, there were numerous things to consider.

Christian had also been strangely concerned about improving the treatment of Indigenous and Black soldiers for a long time.

It wasn’t just simple philanthropy; it seemed like there was some hidden motive, but Davout couldn’t figure it out.

In any case, the political realm wasn’t his concern, so he didn’t dwell on it.

He just had to carry out Christian’s orders.

Since there was a company dinner to commemorate his inauguration as division commander, it seemed like he could make the most of this opportunity.

“Okay, everyone, this dinner is being paid for by His Royal Highness the Duke of Orléans, so enjoy yourselves and drink comfortably.”

“Wow! Long live His Royal Highness the Duke! Long live the division commander!”

Even in a unit with strict military discipline, soldiers tended to go wild once they started drinking.

Almost an entire battalion came, so the bars were practically rented out by them.

It didn’t even take an hour for the soldiers to be completely drunk.

Sensing that the opportunity had arrived, Davout subtly called over some Black non-commissioned officers he knew.

“Hey, you over there. We’ve met before, right? What was your name again?”

“Sergeant Killian, sir! I’m honored that you remember me!”

“Yes, yes. Sergeant Killian, are you having any difficulties in the military these days? Have you been discriminated against or ridiculed because of your skin color?”

“No, sir! There is no such thing!”

A denial that came out almost as a conditioned reflex.

It was practically an admission that it existed, but no matter how indirectly he asked, Killian didn’t say a word.

He asked other Black soldiers as well, but none of them reported any abuse.

*Hmph, I can’t force them. I wouldn’t have been able to rat out my superiors even if I were in their position.*

The most foolish thing to do in the military is to trust a superior who says, ‘I’ll take care of it, so trust me and report it internally.’

The best way to address this is to catch them in the act, but how can you uncover military corruption that maintains security like an iron wall, even if it’s easy to say?

Davout suppressed his growing worries and sipped his beer.

Looking around, he could hear the soldiers who were already drunk and talking loudly.

Sergeant Killian, who had denied any abuse, was being scolded by his superiors.

“Hey, hey, we’re out of alcohol here. Tell the employees to bring some more.”

“Sergeant, there are a lot of people right now, so you might have to wait a bit for the drinks to arrive.”

“Well, shouldn’t you bring it then? Blackies are the best at carrying things around anyway.”

“Oh, that’s right. Hey, you go get it.”

As the drunk superiors began to harass him, Killian smiled awkwardly and got up from his seat.

The Indigenous non-commissioned officer who had been watching also went to move the keg together.

“As expected, our subordinates are quick-witted. They help out without even being told.”

“Hehe, aren’t Blackies and Indigenous people good at using their bodies?”

“Of course! That’s right.”

Davout pretended to talk to the battalion commander while observing the situation.

*As expected, there are many things to fix.*

He was about to intervene, but they could easily dismiss it as a joke made while drunk, so he decided to observe a little longer. That’s when the real problem erupted.

“Hey! You, Blackie! Order beer! For me!”

A slurred French that echoed loudly from across the counter.

Instantly, the attention of the drinking soldiers focused on that side.

“Blackie! Can’t you hear me? Bring it! The alcohol!”

A well-dressed American businessman was pointing at Killian and shouting at the top of his lungs.

Perhaps Killian, who had come to the table to get alcohol while the businessman’s coachman was in the bathroom, had caught his eye.

*This crazy bastard.*

Perhaps fueled by alcohol, Davout, instantly furious, stood up abruptly.

How dare an American Yankee [a term for Americans, often used pejoratively] harass his subordinate?

But normally, someone should have stopped him, saying, ‘Hold on! Division Commander!’, but no one grabbed him.

Turning his head to see why, the officers who had been flattering him and pouring him drinks were already gone.

In addition, the non-commissioned officers who had been teasing the Black people and Indigenous people were rushing toward the American businessman.

Davout, slightly embarrassed, watched the situation unfold as the non-commissioned officer who had been teasing Killian the most stood right next to him.

“Hey, American man. Do you have any business with us?”

“French soldiers. Glad to meet. No beer. My slaves and coachmen, go to bathroom. So order other Blackie. Say bring beer.”

“Oh, is that so? But why did you order him to get the beer you’re going to drink?”

Killian, sensing that something was going wrong, hesitated and spoke up.

“Um, Sergeant… I’m okay…”

“You shut up. American man, answer me. Who are you to call him Blackie and order him around?”

The American businessman, sensing that the soldiers’ tone was changing sharply, waved his hands in embarrassment.

“Ah, no why? I no have fault. Don’t want cause problem. No problem. No! No problème! [No problem in French]”

“What, you son of a bitch! There’s no problem? We have a problem! You crazy Yankee bastard!”

“Who are you to call our Blackie a Blackie and cause trouble! Do you want to die?”

Davout didn’t fully understand what they were saying, but if this continued, a violent incident could occur.

If a soldier assaulted a civilian from another country, it could escalate into a diplomatic issue.

In particular, those who seemed very wealthy, like that American businessman, were likely to have connections with politicians.

It was wise to end the situation here and now.

“Everyone calm down! What is this disgrace!”

“No, Division Commander! Even so, that Yankee insulted our Blackie by calling him Blackie…”

“…First, shut up and think carefully about what you’re saying.”

Davout calmed the soldiers and helped the American businessman, who was half-sitting, up.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, finally someone who can speak English has come. What is this? Is the Nouvelle France army originally this barbaric?”

“Well, the gentleman also insulted this soldier, so both sides are at fault…”

“Do you know who I am? I’m someone who helped with the election campaign of the President of the United States, Jefferson. I can ask a nigger to bring me some alcohol, so why are you making such a fuss?”

“Oh~?”

The corners of Davout’s mouth gradually turned down, and his eyes narrowed strangely.

His staff, knowing that he was suppressing his anger to the point of explosion when he showed this expression, desperately reached out.

“Wait, Division Commander, hold on…!”

“You crazy Yankee bastard!”

*Paak!*

Before his subordinates could stop him, Davout, half out of his mind, began to beat the American businessman.

“You. Crazy French soldiers! I have a relationship with Jefferson…”

“Damn it, then go tell your president! Tell him! Go tell him, you bastard!”

*Thud! Thwack thwack thwack! Crack!*

“Kuaaak! Sa, save me! Someone here!”

“Division Commander! Hold on! You’re really going to kill him!”

The company dinner to celebrate the inauguration of the new division commander was suddenly filled with the screams of the American businessman and the shouts of the officers trying to restrain the division commander.

Killian, the Black sergeant who had inadvertently caused this commotion, simply stared at the scene with a dazed expression.

※※※

“…That’s the truth about the assault… no, the commotion that happened in Nouvelle France.”

“I see. Well, Davout wouldn’t have beaten an American for no reason.”

“But the other party isn’t blameless. He seems to be a businessman who really helped with the election campaign of the current US President. Instead of resorting to violence, we should have responded with words…”

“When you drink, things like that can happen.”

This was the New World at that time, full of impulsive people who would draw guns and duel, let alone punch each other while drinking.

Besides, they were the ones who insulted our soldiers first, so I don’t feel like blaming Davout.

However, the diplomats who had to clean up the mess didn’t feel that way.

“Even so, the other party verbally provoked us, and the result is that we beat up the businessman and even his coachmen and forcibly kicked them out. The United States will definitely use this as an excuse to cause trouble, so there must be at least some punishment.”

“Punishment…”

I tapped the incident report with my finger for a moment and organized my thoughts.

If you think about it, this is clearly a diplomatic discourtesy, but that’s just a diplomatic issue.

But if we use it well, can’t we turn this incident into an opportunity?

“I’ll write a letter myself, so tell them to send it to the US side.”

“Then what about Davout’s punishment?”

“I’ll take care of that myself. I just had a very good idea.”

As a smile naturally appeared on my face, the diplomat who received the letter suddenly trembled.

The weather wasn’t very cold, so it didn’t seem like he had a cold, but all sorts of strange things were happening.

Come to think of it, my subordinates often showed that kind of reaction whenever I smiled, but I don’t know why.

How strange.

End of < Beyond the Line >