I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 33

Chapter 33: A Clever Strategy

At the Armand estate, Grevy popped a bottle of champagne amidst the cheers, while Francis basked in the glory of their victory.

"Splendid speech, Armand!" Grevy complimented sincerely as he poured Armand a glass.

Armand chuckled and replied, "The speech was secondary. What I enjoyed more was Steed's expression. Did you see it? He was utterly helpless, sitting there like a fool!"

"I saw it!" Nicolas raised his glass. "I was seated near him. He looked like a statue, completely stunned!"

The group burst into laughter.

Francis, smiling awkwardly, joined in. He was the only one not present at the event and had no idea what had transpired.

After hesitating for a moment, Francis mustered the courage to ask, "So... we’ve won, haven’t we?"

"Of course, Francis!" Armand replied triumphantly. "We secured a major order right away: 1,500 tanks at a unit price of 5,000..."

Grevy interrupted with a pointed "ahem," giving Armand a meaningful look. This fool—there was no need to disclose such details to Francis.

Armand smirked indifferently, thinking Grevy was overreacting. Even if Francis knew, what could he do? After all, he was just a farmer who had made his fortune selling tractors.

Francis's eyes widened in shock as he pieced it together. They had sold tanks at a price of 5,000 francs per unit.

But when they purchased the tanks from him, the price was only 1,360 francs per unit, which included a machine gun!
The price difference, multiplied by 1,500 units—God above—they were making over 5 million francs on this single order!

Charles had only earned 1.1 million francs selling his patent. As for himself, he’d scraped together a mere pittance in comparison.
These filthy capitalists, these despicable leeches, these parasites of the nation—they were siphoning away the taxes paid by the people!

"Is something the matter?" Armand raised an eyebrow as he noticed Francis’s unusual expression.

"No, no, nothing at all!" Francis quickly forced a smile and raised his glass. "Gentlemen! To our victory..."

But no one else responded. Armand, with a blank expression, said, "It’s too early to celebrate victory, Mr. Francis. Let’s wait until the money is in our hands before making that toast."

"You’re right, Mr. Armand," Francis replied, awkwardly lowering his raised glass.

After a brief silence, Nicolas asked, "So, what should we write about now?"

Nicolas’s full name was Nicolas Clissois, and he was the owner of Le Figaro.

Unlike Le Petit Journal, Le Figaro catered to the aristocracy and upper classes. Priced at one franc per issue, it was beyond the reach of ordinary citizens.

Consequently, Le Figaro exuded a certain noble detachment. It disdained interactions with commoners, focusing instead on national affairs and debates among parliamentarians. Another hallmark was that its reports often bore little resemblance to reality—having long since lost touch with the general populace.

For instance, before the Franco-Prussian War, Le Figaro predicted an easy French victory, reminiscing about France's fourteen historical triumphs over Germany, urging its readers to enjoy their brandy and cigars while awaiting victory.

The actual outcome, however...

"Victory, Nicolas!" Grevy exclaimed. "Just report victory—the triumph of the tank. Make everyone go mad for the tank. Let everyone know it was Charles who invented it! Then we can sit back and watch the wealth roll in!"

Armand seemed uncertain. "Shouldn’t we also report that we own the tank's patent?"

"No!" Grevy replied. "The timing isn’t right. I want... Steed to attempt a knockoff!"

Armand was taken aback but quickly understood.

Grevy wanted to mislead Steed into believing that the patent was still in Charles's possession.

If Steed attempted to counterfeit or circumvent the tank’s patent, the right-wing faction could strike back by slapping him with their patent rights. Through the media, legal channels, and public opinion, they could deal him a resounding blow—and possibly demand compensation.

"Smart move!" Armand praised Grevy. The sound of clinking glasses echoed as the group toasted.

...

When Francis returned to his villa, he was still simmering with indignation. How could those arrogant individuals earn millions with just a few words, while he, after doing all the actual work, made only a few hundred thousand francs?

Still, business was business. Without it, even that modest sum would be out of reach.

Francis consoled himself: Times were tough, and money was hard to come by. Countless factories had gone bankrupt because of the war. Not only was he surviving, but he was making a profit. That alone was something to be grateful for.

"Simon!" Francis called for his butler. "Have Joseph come here at once!"

"Sir," the butler replied hesitantly, "Joseph has already resigned."

"Resigned?" Francis frowned.

"Yes," Simon explained. "I believe it’s because of his son. His son lost a leg on the battlefield and needs someone to care for him."

Francis grunted in acknowledgment, showing little interest in the matter.

"Then bring Thomas here!"

The butler hesitated. "I believe Thomas has also resigned. While you were in Paris, nearly seventy employees handed in their resignations. I’ve placed the list in your study. Thomas is likely among them, though I’m not entirely sure."

Francis found this peculiar and asked, "Where did they go? Why have so many resigned?"

Even during the rumored German invasion, none of them had left. So why now?

The question left Simon at a loss. He could only offer an unconfirmed theory: "It’s said they were frightened by the number of casualties among soldiers. They’re worried they’ll soon be drafted, so they’ve decided to seek work in Britain. That way, they can..."

Francis nodded. The explanation made sense. Draft notices were indeed causing widespread panic.
Fleeing to work in Britain might not offer complete safety, but at least the French government wouldn’t know their whereabouts, making it harder to deliver draft notices.

Then Francis laughed. "Fools. Didn’t they realize we’re switching to tank production? As a factory providing vital military equipment, our workers won’t receive draft notices!"

The butler sighed. "If they were smarter or had delayed their resignations, they wouldn’t have to endure such hardship. It’s their loss, sir!"

Francis soon dismissed the matter from his mind. With over 2,000 employees at his tractor factory, the loss of seventy-some workers barely made a dent. Besides, he had tanks to produce.

What Francis didn’t realize was that this was precisely what Charles had intended!
What the butler thought were "rumors" had been deliberately spread by Charles through Joseph.

Charles wanted to ensure Francis wouldn’t catch on to his plans too early or make preparations in advance!

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