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I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 114
🕑 Added 2025-03-25 18:04:01 +0000 UTCChapter 114: The Belmondo Family
Francis observed the old noble’s gaze and immediately recognized its essence: arrogance, disdain, and indifference. His expression made it clear that he felt even speaking an extra word was beneath him.
Indeed, he was a noble through and through, no different from Grevy or Armand.
“May I ask, who might you be...?” Francis bent slightly, his tone cautious.
“Vartan!” The old noble replied, holding his coffee with an air of self-assurance. “Vartan Belmondo!”
Francis didn’t initially recognize the name, but the servant standing beside the old noble whispered softly, “We are from Algeria, sir.”
Francis’s mind exploded like a cannon: the Belmondo family of Algeria? The family that owned over a dozen plantations and practically monopolized the country’s coffee market?
“My sincerest apologies, Mr. Vartan!” Francis hurriedly stepped forward and shook his hand, visibly nervous. “I... would you care for a glass of wine?”
“No, Mr. Francis,” Vartan replied after taking a sip of his coffee, setting the cup down as if savoring a familiar flavor. “This is quite fine—comforting, even.”
Francis silently thanked his luck. His habitual choice of Algerian coffee seemed to be paying off.
Vartan then shifted the conversation. “Let us discuss business. I’ve heard that your warehouse holds a significant number of tractors?”
“Yes, yes, that’s correct!” Francis nodded quickly.
“Excellent!” Vartan leaned back into the sofa, crossing one leg over the other and draping his right arm casually on the backrest. “It so happens that I need tractors.”
“May I ask how many you’re looking for?” Francis asked cautiously.
“How many do you have?” Vartan countered.
With confidence, Francis replied, “We have 1,800 units, sir!”
He thought the number would more than meet Vartan’s needs, but to his surprise, Vartan frowned slightly. “Not a great deal, but perhaps it will suffice.”
The statement stunned Francis. Could he mean... buying all of them? Good heavens, 1,800 tractors, with a total price nearing two million francs—this would be the largest transaction in his business history!
But Francis kept his wits about him. Years of business experience had taught him to be especially cautious with deals of this magnitude, lest he end up losing everything to a clever swindle.
“Mr. Vartan!” Francis feigned surprise, using the opportunity to probe. “That many tractors could plow all of Algeria, wouldn’t you say?”
Vartan’s face showed a flicker of impatience, with a trace of anger in his eyes. “France has conscripted over a hundred thousand soldiers from Algeria. We have no choice but to consider purchasing tractors!”
Francis immediately understood. As he had suspected, plantation owners faced labor shortages due to conscription and needed tractors to fill the gap, while the general population, fearing they too might be drafted, hesitated to make large purchases.
“Moreover, Algeria is far from Paris,” Vartan continued. “I believe there are those who would rather purchase from me than undertake the journey themselves.”
Francis nodded. This Vartan clearly saw a business opportunity here: to buy a large number of tractors and act as a middleman.
No wonder Charles’s tractor factory couldn’t meet his expectations. Their production capacity was insufficient, and they lacked inventory. Besides, Algeria didn’t require advanced tractors—they just needed functional ones to solve immediate problems.
“If you’re not interested...” Vartan made a slight movement as if to leave.
“No, no, Mr. Vartan!” Francis hurried to appease him. “Of course, I’m interested. My apologies!”
Considering that Vartan had just come from Charles’s factory, Francis hesitated briefly before offering a relatively conservative unit price. “1,100 francs per tractor, sir. That’s our lowest price!”
Vartan smiled faintly. “Charles’s tractors are priced the same, sir. Do you believe I would choose the Holt 60 over the Holt 75 for the same cost?”
Damn it, Francis cursed inwardly. At that price, his profit margin shrank to a mere 130 francs per unit.
But was this really the time to worry about profit? Shouldn’t he prioritize clearing his stock to fund the production of the new tanks instead?
“1,000 francs per tractor, sir!” Francis revised his offer. “This is the absolute lowest price. We’ve never sold them this cheap before, I assure you!”
Vartan seemed to find the price acceptable and gave a slight nod.
This filled Francis with joy. Nobles like Vartan simply didn’t understand the desperation that drove him to sell at a loss.
Vartan hesitated briefly before adding, “If I pay the full amount upfront, would the price be even lower?”
Francis was both shocked and delighted. Paying 1.8 million francs in one lump sum—this man was a true aristocrat.
At the same time, any lingering suspicion Francis had about Vartan vanished. A swindler would never propose upfront payment. They would concoct excuses to delay payment and then vanish with the goods.
A deal involving cash on delivery left no room for traps, did it?
With this in mind, Francis promptly agreed. “Of course, sir! In that case, 980 francs per tractor!”
Vartan appeared indifferent to the minor discount, showing a hint of impatience. Unwilling to waste more time, he nodded casually. “Very well... let me see the contract, Mr. Francis.”
Francis was so thrilled he nearly leapt in the air. This would instantly clear out all the inventory in his warehouse. Was this a sign of divine favor for the Francis family?
But he suppressed his elation, smiling politely as he bowed to Vartan. “Please wait a moment, esteemed Mr. Vartan. I’ll draft the contract immediately—it won’t take long!”
As he straightened up, Francis noticed Joseph outside by the carriage, speaking earnestly and urgently with Vartan’s servant.
Francis’s heart sank. Trouble was brewing. Clearly, Charles’s tractor factory wasn’t willing to give up on this major order.
Sure enough, the servant hurried back inside and bent close to Vartan’s ear to whisper a few words. Vartan’s expression shifted to one of surprise as he asked, “Is this true?”
“Yes, sir!” The servant cast a glance toward the window. “Mr. Joseph is waiting outside. He hopes to discuss the matter further with you.”
Francis glared daggers at Joseph through the window. That traitor! Not only had he betrayed him, but now he was trying to steal his business.
Naturally, Francis hid his anger. He quickly approached Vartan to stabilize the situation. “They absolutely cannot meet your needs, Mr. Vartan. His factory is newly established and can only produce a few dozen units per month!”
“But they plan to expand production, guaranteeing 100 units per month,” Vartan replied. “And their price is also 1,000 francs per tractor. I fail to see the difference from your offer of 980 francs.”
Francis ground his teeth in frustration. He understood now: Charles was determined to drive his tractor factory out of business, even if it meant engaging in a price war at the cost of all profits.
“900 francs!” Francis made a resolute decision. “If you agree, we’ll sign the contract immediately!”
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