I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France
Chapter 131: After modification - 131 Long-lost Brothers

Chapter 131: After modification: Chapter 131 Long-lost Brothers

The negotiation was going smoothly. Steed just gave the blueprint and description a glance and immediately offered two choices with a delighted expression:

"One million francs to buy the industrial property, or choose to collaborate; I will give you 50% of the profits!"

Dejoka was stunned by such generous terms, never expecting that something so unremarkable could be worth a million francs. He knew that even the tank’s industrial property was only sold for 990,000 francs. This was worth more than a tank!

Seeing Dejoka dazed, Steed added, "This is the initial offer, Mr. Dejoka. If you are not satisfied, we can still discuss it further!"

Dejoka felt a bit dizzy. Was this just the initial offer?

Bonnet, standing beside him, was also puzzled. It seemed that business negotiations shouldn’t be conducted this way. Steed was an old hand in this field. Why did he reveal his bottom line today for this seemingly insignificant gadget?

How could Bonnet know that Steed did this not just because he saw the value of the "hand grenade" but also hoped to connect with Shire through this line.

In his heart, he repeatedly chanted, "Choose collaboration, please. The wealth it can create will be much more than selling the property!"

If it were up to Dejoka himself, he would unhesitatingly choose to sell the industrial property.

But he knew Shire’s goal was to form an alliance with Steed, so he nodded and answered, "No, Mr. Steed, we don’t need to discuss the price because I choose to collaborate in production!"

"Wonderful!" Steed laughed heartily and even hugged Dejoka in excitement: "A wise choice, Mr. Dejoka! If there’s a chance, I would be delighted to invite you and Shire to visit my armaments factory. You could even participate in its management. We are partners, right? We are partners!"

As he spoke, Steed patted Dejoka’s shoulder affectionately, as if Dejoka were a long-lost brother he had finally found!

...

This result was exactly what Shire wanted.

Shire had long considered forming an alliance. His power alone was too fragile, and within the military, due to regulations, he could not develop his own force. Alliance was the only way out.

In his mind, he reviewed the capitalists he knew:

The right-wing was definitely not an option. They opposed industrialization, which was contrary to his ideas full of inventions and creations, eventually leading to conflicts due to different development directions.

Monopolizing steel and the Wentier family? That seemed to be on a different level!

The Brest Shipyard? With England as an ally on the ocean, there was not much demand for French warships, and nearly no crisis!

That left only Schneider, who made cannons, and St. Etienne, who made light weapons.

Schneider was stronger and originally had great potential. Shire could work on tank guns and perhaps help Schneider develop piercing shells in the future.

However, before Shire could act, Schneider suddenly turned into a competitor!

So, only St. Etienne’s Steed was left.

Then Shire suddenly realized this was like unlocking a treasure trove, with many light weapons lining up for him to invent.

These light weapons had lower technical barriers, which Shire could also produce.

But due to the involvement of gunpowder, starting from scratch would be troublesome. Entrusting St. Etienne Armaments Factory with production was clearly a good choice.

Coincidentally, Steed’s St. Etienne Armaments Factory was in dire straits. So, it was the time!

Just a small invention to stimulate it, and it would swarm like flies... uh, bees, definitely bees, flocking like bees!

Therefore, when Dejoka had someone deliver the message that he had already chosen to collaborate with St. Etienne, Shire was not at all surprised. Everything was developing as he hoped.

...

As dusk fell, the lanterns lit up.

At this time, the command post personnel would typically be busy organizing various documents and intelligence under the lights, sometimes working overnight, as the battlefield waited for no one.

But now, with the frontline stalemated and nothing significant happening, only a few duty staff remained while others disbanded for rest.

Shire was about to return to the dormitory when Major Fernan stopped him.

"Hey, Lieutenant, not taking some rest?" asked Major Fernan.

Shire looked at the open dormitory door, puzzled. Wasn’t he just about to rest?

Major Fernan smiled and invited him, "Come on, it’s time to relax!"

Shire found out that Major Fernan’s idea of "relaxing" referred to the officers’ club. He was quite disappointed that this could count as "relaxing."

The club had dim lighting and was filled with smoke. On stage, the piano intermittently played the newly popular jazz music. Major Fernan ordered a small glass of green absinthe for each of them. Generously spreading out his hands, he said, "Drink as much as you like; tonight is on me!"

Shire knew it took courage. Absinthe was expensive and not easily available. Many countries had banned its sale due to its reputed hallucinations.

Although France had not yet banned it, restrictions had made it increasingly scarce on the market, and its price had soared. It was said that only the wealthy could afford a whole bottle.

(Note: France banned absinthe in 1915)

Shire thought Major Fernan surely knew he couldn’t drink much, which was why he was so generous.

This was Shire’s first time trying alcohol. He looked at the green liquid in the glass and naturally assumed it was a mildly sweet drink, taking a small sip without mental preparation. Suddenly choking, he couldn’t help but cough.

Nearby, several officers laughed, seeming to wonder which rookie this was.

Behind the bar was a sweet-looking female bartender. Skillfully, she wielded her cocktail shaker, curiously glancing at Shire before turning her gaze to Major Fernan: "Colonel, your new orderly?"

"Who? Him?" Major Fernan realized the bartender referred to Shire and hurriedly shook his head to explain, "No, no, you misunderstood, Lucia, I am his orderly!"

The bartender named Lucia laughed cooperatively, thinking Major Fernan was joking.

Major Fernan leaned closer to Shire’s ear, saying, "You’ll get used to it, Lieutenant. It’s a good choice to come here and relax after a long day. It will help you sleep well!"

Raising his glass to Shire, he continued, "No need to thank me; it’s what I should do!"

Shire, struggling to catch his breath, thought Major Fernan might have forgotten two points:

One, Shire was still underage and not really fit for alcohol.

Two, Shire had a day off every two days, so there was no "long day" for him to relax from.

If needed, Shire could sleep at home all day!