I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 135

Chapter 135: Brothers Lost for Years

The negotiations went smoothly. Steed only glanced at the sketches and written descriptions before breaking into a joyful smile and offering two options:

"One million francs for the industrial rights, or a partnership where I'll give you 50% of the profits!"

Djoka was stunned by such generous terms. He hadn’t expected this unremarkable invention to be worth a million francs—more than the 990,000 francs for tank industrial rights. How could it be worth more than something as significant as a tank?

Seeing Djoka’s hesitation, Steed added, "This is just the initial offer, Mr. Djoka. If you're not satisfied, we can negotiate further!"

Djoka felt a little dizzy. This was just the initial offer?

Standing nearby, Bonnet also looked puzzled. This wasn’t how business negotiations were supposed to work. Steed, a seasoned expert in such dealings, was uncharacteristically revealing his hand for the sake of this seemingly trivial invention.

What Bonnet didn’t realize was that Steed wasn’t only interested in the value of the "hand grenade"; he was even more eager to use this opportunity to establish a connection with Charles.

Inwardly, Steed repeated to himself over and over: "Choose the partnership, please. The wealth it will generate will far exceed selling the rights outright!"

If it were up to Djoka, he would have chosen to sell the industrial rights without hesitation.

But he understood that Charles’s goal was to form an alliance with Steed. So, he nodded and replied, "No, Mr. Steed, there’s no need to discuss the price further. I choose the partnership!"

"Fantastic!" Steed burst into laughter, embracing Djoka in excitement. "An excellent choice, Mr. Djoka! If the opportunity arises, I’d be delighted to invite you and Charles to tour my arsenal. You could even participate in its management. We’re partners, aren’t we? Partners!"

As he spoke, Steed affectionately patted Djoka on the shoulder, as if Djoka were a long-lost brother he had finally reunited with.

...

This was exactly what Charles had hoped for.

Charles had long considered forming alliances. His individual influence was too fragile, and military regulations made it difficult for him to cultivate his own network within the army. Alliances were his only path forward.

He mentally reviewed the capitalists he was familiar with:

The right-wingers were out of the question; they opposed industrialization, a stance completely at odds with his passion for invention and innovation. A clash over differing development goals was inevitable.

The steel monopoly and the Wintail family? They weren’t even on the same playing field.

The Brest Shipyard? With Britain as an ally on the seas, France’s demand for warships was minimal, and there was virtually no crisis to address.

That left only Schneider, the artillery manufacturer, and Steed of Saint-Étienne.

Schneider was more powerful and held greater potential. Charles could use tank cannons as leverage and even help Schneider develop armor-piercing shells in the future.

However, before Charles could make a move, Schneider suddenly became his competitor!

That left only Steed of Saint-Étienne.

Then Charles realized this was like discovering a treasure trove. Numerous small arms were waiting in line for him to invent.

These small arms required relatively low technical expertise—Charles could manufacture them himself.

But dealing with gunpowder and setting up production from scratch would be a hassle. Leaving production to the Saint-Étienne Arsenal was clearly the better option.

As luck would have it, Steed’s Saint-Étienne Arsenal was struggling. It was the perfect target! All it needed was a small invention to draw it in—like a fly... no, not a fly. Definitely a bee. It would swarm to him like a bee!

Thus, when Djoka sent word that he had chosen to partner with Saint-Étienne, Charles wasn’t surprised in the least. Everything had unfolded as he had hoped.

...

Dusk fell, and the lights of the city began to glow.

At this hour, the command center staff were usually busy sorting through documents and intelligence under the lamps, often working through the night. After all, war waited for no one.

But with the frontlines in a stalemate and no major developments, only a few staff officers remained on duty while the rest were dismissed to rest.

Charles was about to head to his quarters when Lieutenant Colonel Fernand intercepted him.

"Hey, Lieutenant, not planning to take a break?" Fernand asked.

Charles glanced at his open dormitory door, looking puzzled. Wasn’t he on his way to rest?

Fernand chuckled and invited him along. "Come on, it’s time to unwind a bit!"

When Charles reached the destination, he realized Fernand’s idea of "unwinding" was the officers' club. He was somewhat disappointed. This was supposed to be relaxing?

The dimly lit club was filled with smoke. Onstage, a pianist occasionally played the newly popular jazz music. Fernand ordered two small glasses of green absinthe and generously spread his hands, saying, "Drink as much as you like. Tonight, it’s on me!"

Charles knew this gesture required courage. Absinthe was expensive and not easily accessible. Many countries had banned its sale due to its alleged hallucinogenic effects.

Although France hadn’t banned it yet, tight regulations on producers had made it increasingly rare and expensive. It was said only the wealthy could afford to keep an entire bottle in reserve.

(Note: France banned absinthe in 1915.)

Charles thought Fernand must have known he wouldn’t drink much, which was why he was so bold.

It was Charles’s first time trying alcohol. Looking at the green liquid in his glass, he naturally assumed it would be mildly sweet, like a soft drink. Without bracing himself, he took a small sip and immediately choked, coughing uncontrollably.

Laughter erupted nearby from a few officers, amused at the sight of a novice.

Behind the bar, a sweet-faced barmaid expertly twirled a cocktail shaker, watching Charles with interest before turning her attention to Fernand. "Colonel, is this your new orderly?"

"Who, him?" Fernand quickly realized she was referring to Charles and hurriedly shook his head. "No, no, you misunderstand, Lucia. I’m his orderly!"

The barmaid named Lucia laughed heartily, assuming Fernand was joking.

Fernand leaned closer to Charles and said, "You’ll get used to it, Lieutenant. After a long day, coming here to relax isn’t a bad idea. It’ll help you sleep well!"

With that, he raised his glass to Charles and said, "No need to thank me—it’s the least I can do!"

Charles finally caught his breath and thought to himself that Fernand might have forgotten two key things:

First, Charles was still underage, so drinking wasn’t exactly appropriate.

Second, Charles had a day off every other day. This so-called "long day" Fernand mentioned didn’t really exist.

If necessary, Charles could simply sleep the whole day at home!

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