Grevy had never been this excited before. He felt as if the doors of the world had opened to him once again and, overwhelmed with excitement, he took a carriage overnight to Arman Manor.
"What happened, Grevy?" Arman emerged in his nightwear, with the sound of frivolous laughter from several women coming from his bedroom in the background.
Grevy paid no mind, as he was long accustomed to Arman's peculiar habits.
"Our army defeated the Germans at Davaz, Arman!" Grevy said excitedly.
"Oh?" Arman walked to the liquor cabinet, skillfully poured two glasses of red wine, took a sip from one, and handed the other to Grevy with a cold response, "So what?"
"They defeated thousands of Germans with only a little over three hundred men!" Grevy waved his hand energetically, like a commander on the battlefield.
Arman lazily leaned back on the sofa and replied, "You came this late just to tell me a story about three hundred Spartans defeating a Persian army?"
Three hundred Germans defeating thousands of French Soldiers might be possible, but three hundred French Soldiers defeating thousands of Germans could only be found in fairy tales.
"It's true!" Grevy grabbed Arman's shoulders and shook him, "Wake up, Arman, you have no idea what's happening outside! The whole of France is talking about it. It was a young man named Shire; he invented something called a tank!"
Arman made a sound of acknowledgment, remained silent for a moment as if he believed it, and then asked, "How does this concern us? Are you here to tell me that the left wing's advantage has risen again?"
The majority of the left-wing parties were new capitalists who controlled banks, factories, and machinery.
The right-wing parties were old capitalists, mostly composed of old nobles or landlords who, despite their wealth, had virtually no control over society, and were always at a disadvantage in the House of Representatives.
Clearly, this so-called "tank" belonged to the category of new capitalists.
Grevy sighed, looking helplessly at Arman, "Think about it, Arman, why have we always lost to the left wing?"
Arman was the leader of the Royalist Faction, while Grevy was the leader of the Bonapartist Faction. Both belonged to the right wing that hoped to restore the monarchy.
Strictly speaking, they were enemies with differing political views because they supported the rule of different emperors over France.
But because of the powerful left wing, they had long been oppressed and, over time, became friends.
Perhaps due to fatigue, Arman lay back lightly on the sofa, raised his wine glass, and answered, "What can we do? They have machines capable of producing a large number of rifles and cannons, thereby controlling the army and holding real power, while we only have farmers and hoes!"
"But what if we had tanks?" Grevy reminded him, "If we had equipment that could defeat thousands of elite German soldiers with just over three hundred men..."
Arman was startled, then sat up as if electrified and placed his wine glass on the table. After thinking for a while, he nodded and said, "You're right, Grevy! This is our chance to regain our advantage. With only a few soldiers and limited rifles, we could have the power to stand on equal footing with the left wing!"
"That's what I've been trying to say!" Grevy snapped his fingers, "Our turnaround chance has come, Arman, and it might be the only chance!"
"But..." Arman worriedly continued, "The left wing realizes the importance of this equipment too, right?"
"That's why I came to you!" Grevy said, "We should unite, use all our financial resources to secure the industrial property of the tank. The army needs tanks, and this would increase our influence over the army!"
Arman's eyes grew brighter, like a long-extinguished flame reigniting.
No one could understand the desolation of being marginalized, sitting and waiting to be eliminated in the arena of power. It wasn't something that could be measured by money; it was despair, helplessness, and a lack of dignity!
Now, however, there was a turning point. It just depended on whether they could seize this opportunity!
...
"500,000 francs!"
That was Grevy and Arman's initial offer to Francis.
Francis was surprised. That was already a tenth of the tractor factory's value, and it was only the initial offer.
Was the tank really worth that much?
Francis felt a bit jealous. He had spent a lifetime running the tractor factory to achieve his current success, while Shire had merely pieced together some steel plates like a child playing with building blocks and, effortlessly, achieved a tenth of it!
However, the cunning Francis did not show it. He put on a troubled expression and said:
"Gentlemen, this equipment can win a war and lead France to victory!"
"Setting aside everything else, during the Franco-German War, we paid 5 billion francs in reparations, and that was more than forty years ago!"
"Today, tanks can help France win wars, not only saving us from reparations but also bringing dignity and glory to France, countless assets to be plundered, and the lives of innumerable French soldiers and citizens!"
"All of this is worth only 500,000 francs?"
Francis quietly poured more wine into the guests' cups and slowly added:
"I think Krisova might also be interested in this thing!"
Krisova was the leader of the left-wing Radical Party.
Francis knew how to provoke these two right-wing nobles.
Sure enough, Grevy and Arman exchanged a worried glance.
"600,000 francs, no more!" Grevy said.
Francis inwardly sneered. It would certainly be more, possibly reaching 800,000 francs, what a lucky little guy!
Of course, Francis would not just watch as such a large sum fell into Shire's pockets.
What excuse should he use?
At this moment, Simon, the butler, whispered something in Francis's ear, and Francis stood up: "I apologize, gentlemen! I have some matters to attend to. Please excuse me for a moment and continue discussing the details with Pierre!"
"Of course!" Grevy and Arman rose elegantly, secretly relieved, for Pierre was easier to deal with than Francis.
To their surprise, it wasn't long before Francis returned, looking ashen, with two people in tow: a middle-aged man and a boy, whose worn and ill-fitting clothes made them appear destitute.
"Gentlemen!" Francis's face bore an expression of helplessness, "Allow me to introduce Dejoka and his son, Shire!"
"Shire?" Grevy jumped up in excitement, "The少年 who invented the tank?"
"Yes!" Francis nodded, "The industrial property of the tank is in their hands!"
Once the tank's industrial property was successfully registered, it would be impossible to do business without negotiating with Shire and his guardian Dejoka.
Dejoka secretly rejoiced: Thankfully, Shire had the foresight to promptly register the property rights!