The snow cover was thick and blanketed the entire region with ten centimeters. The morning was well underway when it started snowing heavily again, creating a curtain in front of Karima's eyes. The sky was uniformly gray from what she could see and seemed to touch the rooftops of the neighboring houses.

In the distance, the buildings, whose silhouettes were barely discernible, resembled grayish specters.

Everything around her was silent. At first, there were only small flakes, no bigger than dust particles floating in the air, but now they were large enough to cover the tips of her fingers. They landed on the benches, roofs, immobile cars, the icy ground, and her thick clothes with the delicacy of a kiss.

She was exhausted both mentally and physically after what had happened the day before. Scum of the worst kind had left Paris to attack and rob them of the little they still had. They had come in quite a large number, crossing the many bridges over the Seine, and had been repelled. But at what cost? They had lost several brave comrades, including Captain Ollivier.

Lieutenant Ruffet had taken command of the barracks due to his rank and seniority, which everyone accepted. His first decision was to bury their dead in Youri Gagarin Park, which had been transformed into a cemetery many months earlier.

Everyone who had lost their lives since the blackout and whose bodies were found in the neighborhood lay there, including those who died in a plane crash immediately following the power outage. There were also those who died during looting, arson, revenge killings, from hunger and disease, old age, suicide, and childbirth.

The park was already full, despite its vastness. All the parks had been converted in the same way. Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to put names on each grave. In fact, the crosses bearing at least one name were in the minority. Most had only a small board engraved with "RIP" to wish them eternal rest.

They had just laid Captain Ollivier's body in a hole dug by the strength of volunteers' arms, wrapped in a sheet, before filling it back in. Out of respect for the man and his rank, they had buried him in his uniform.

Lieutenant, or rather Captain Ruffet, gave a magnificent, emotional speech praising the courage and dedication of this big-hearted man who had chosen to defend his homeland to the end, even when it had collapsed. As the new captain said, a homeland is not a flag, a song, and a motto. A homeland is the soil and the people living together on it, united by a common desire to move forward hand in hand.

The trumpets had sounded in the large park, where trees had been cut down for firewood, and Karima had shed a few tears. Then, they had parted ways.

The young woman, her face marked by hardships, had walked alone for a long time and arrived at the scene of the fiercest battle before she realized it. The debris was plentiful but hidden under the fresh snow, as were the bloodstains.

If she didn't know what had happened here, she might have thought nothing had happened.

Further on was the Seine, and beyond it was Neuilly-sur-Seine. No one went there anymore, as it was recognized that everything there was lost territory. Those who had wanted to leave had left, and only starving, cold, and diseased bandits remained.

They wanted Paris, let them have it and stay there! Fucking bastards!

She had no pity for those who had chosen to confront the forces of order to conquer this city. Since the forces of order had given up reclaiming what was left of the capital, they made sure no one left it without showing proper identification.

The gendarmerie closely monitored the bridges because more than once, fanatical bandits from the other side of the river had come in armed and determined bands to kill them. This time, caught off guard by the violence of the attack, more than twenty gendarmes and as many volunteers had lost their lives.

They had let their guard down because they had foolishly believed they would have peace as Christmas approached. Their misjudgment had cost them dearly.

They had fought with knives, machetes, axes, pitchforks, and clubs. The gendarmes had a slight advantage as they also had sabers usually used for ceremonies, but these were limited.

Karima quickly reached a conclusion.

We can't continue like this. We need more weapons to defend ourselves! Weapons... Oh shit!

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It was only then that she thought of a place, a place where they would find a large quantity of high-quality weapons.

She immediately turned on her heels and walked briskly towards the mourning barracks. Everyone was surprised to see her so hurried. They thought something serious had just happened.

"Are we under attack?!"

"What's going on?!"

Karima ignored them and went straight to the captain's office. Some followed her out of reflex to be the first to know what was happening.

"Captain! Captain!"

The officer, busy handling the ordinary affairs of the barracks now that the captain was no longer there, stood up as if he had been electrocuted.

"Huh? What's going on?! An attack?!"

"I know where we can find weapons!"

Captain Ruffet took a moment to understand what the young woman was saying.

"W-weapons? Here?"

"No," she replied enthusiastically, "in Paris!"

"If you're thinking of the weapons seized by the judicial police," he said, shaking his head, "that won't be possible. Everything is secured. We won't be able to access it without modern tools."

"No, Captain! At the Army Museum, at Les Invalides!"

"Oh fuck!"

"Yes!"

The captain had jumped to his feet and quickly unfolded a detailed map of the region, showing Nanterre and Paris. The museum was close and yet so far. Located on the other side of the Seine, it was now in a vast area considered lost and dangerous.

"It's better to avoid northern Paris," the emaciated officer murmured, tracing possible routes with his finger. "If we go, we'll have to pass by the fortress of Mont-Valérien, cross the Seine to get through the Bois de Boulogne, then the 16th arrondissement… No, still too dangerous. They'll be watching the area because of the Eiffel Tower. They won't want us to touch their flag. So, Auteuil, the 15th arrondissement, and we rush to the museum."

The new captain seemed to be participating in a particularly heated conference, but he was alone. Karima listened silently and observed the map.

"Captain," she said hesitantly, "it's too far. The detour is too long."

He realized at the same time he said it that this option wasn't suitable. He let out a deep sigh and turned to the young woman, whose rank was just below his previous one.

"What do you propose, sous-lieutenant Ali?"

"We take the shortest route and do it openly. We're not thieves. We mobilize everyone, including civilians if necessary. The more we are, the better. With our flag, passing under the Arc de Triomphe. We do it grandly, show them we're not afraid! That they should be afraid!"

The more she spoke, the more the young gendarme became inflamed. She spoke with all her heart, all her passion, all her anger. Her slightly trembling voice seemed to thunder in the small room. Those present behind her, who had heard this, felt their morale soar.

The captain was no exception.

He too was tired of always defending his position, of being reactive. For once, just once, he wanted to be the one to act.

It's a shame that the general or Colonel Lejeune aren't here. If they were, we would have even less to fear!

The proposal was accepted and communicated to all the gendarmes and volunteers in Nanterre. In no time, an immense crowd gathered at Rathelot barracks.

It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon when the procession left the Bellini district and crossed the Seine to the sound of drums and trumpets. The tricolor flag proudly waved at the front as it started snowing again.

Looks like an army! Perfect! Let's make them tremble with fear!

They bravely and honorably crossed Neuilly-sur-Seine. Their heavy steps were muffled by the snow, but their music echoed off the walls and could be heard from afar.

Here, practically all the building facades in the district had turned black, worsening as they approached the historic heart of the city. Everything was destroyed. Nothing remained. Some buildings had even seen their roofs collapse under their own weight! Shops, banks, restaurants, cafes, churches; nothing was spared.

And the Arc de Triomphe.

They had tagged the place, smashed it with pickaxes and hammers, extinguished the eternal flame of the unknown soldier, piled cars to destroy it by fire.

But it still stood. Disfigured, but standing.

The procession couldn't pass underneath, so they circled it, saluting it as if all the ghosts of those who had died for France were present.

They continued straight along the Champs-Élysées, but before reaching Concorde, also marked by events, they turned right onto Winston Churchill Avenue. They passed by the ruins of the Grand Palais, a true masterpiece of French architecture. Everything had gone up in flames in a gigantic fire that no one had tried to extinguish.

They crossed the Alexandre III bridge and arrived at Les Invalides. The Hôtel des Invalides faced them and, fortunately, did not appear to have suffered significant damage.

On the captain's order, the crowd entered the illustrious building. The place was as silent as a cathedral and smelled musty. Despite the months that had passed, the corridors didn't seem that dirty.

As soon as they entered, the crowd began looting. The idea, which had been stated before their departure, was to leave nothing to their enemies, even what didn't seem important. They could sort it out later, but there would be no second "visit." There was no doubt that after all this display, France's enemies would realize the treasure that had been there, right under their noses, all this time.

Here, every sound was amplified. The noise made by the looters was deafening. It was impossible to hear oneself speak between the footsteps, clashing metal, and breaking display cases.

The looting didn't take long because although there were many items on display, thousands had come.

Everyone loaded up like oxen to achieve this very satisfying goal. Spears, swords, armor, axes, halberds, sabers, daggers, rifles, pistols. They took everything, including what was in the reserve. To Karima and the captain's great surprise, there was as much as in the display cases!

When they finally evacuated the building, there was nothing left.