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I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 131
🕑 Added 2025-04-03 18:01:01 +0000 UTCChapter 131: The Competitor Is Not Just Charles
At this moment, Simon walked in and whispered something to Francis. Francis’ eyelid twitched, and through gritted teeth, he asked, “Is this true?”
“Yes!” Simon nodded and replied, “The military’s order of ‘Holt 60’ tractors is entirely from Charles’ tractor factory. The current order is for 1,000 units, at a unit price of 2,500 francs!”
Francis said nothing. On the surface, he appeared calm, but his heart bled silently. He didn’t even have the courage to calculate the losses he had incurred.
“Sir!” Simon suggested, “We still have a chance. If the military has such high demand, we could recall the workers and resume production. We could produce 500 units per month…”
Francis gently shook his head. Simon might have been a good steward, but he was far from a competent businessman.
“The military’s demand has already been largely fulfilled by this batch of tractors,” Francis said helplessly. “Next, our competitor will still be Charles’ ‘Holt 75.’ If you put both tractors in front of the military, which do you think they’d choose?”
Simon was at a loss for words. Even a fool could tell that the military would opt for the more powerful and faster “Holt 75.”
In other words, Francis had been entirely pushed out of the tractor industry by Charles!
It was unimaginable: a massive factory that had been running for decades under the management of Francis—a man hailed as a business prodigy—had been defeated so thoroughly by a novice entrepreneur who had started with nothing just over a month ago.
What lay ahead for Francis seemed to be the sale of the factory’s surplus workshops and production lines, leaving only a small portion dedicated to tank production.
The humiliating part was, who would even want to buy the outdated “Holt 60” production line?
It seemed the only potential buyer was Charles’ tractor factory. They could upgrade part of the line to produce “Holt 75” models.
If he wanted to sell it, Francis would have no choice but to approach Charles. Otherwise, the production line would only end up as scrap.
Francis seemed to have realized this as well. He let out a cold snort, and his expression grew increasingly grim.
How much would Charles offer for the production line?
Fifty thousand francs? Perhaps even less...
Francis decided to discuss the matter with Grevy and Armand first. Perhaps they’d buy it, or maybe they knew someone willing to make an offer. Who could say?
One thing Francis could be thankful for was that his aristocratic “friends” hadn’t abandoned him yet.
However, as Francis’ car was about to leave the factory, it was stopped by several French soldiers.
Simon, who was driving, turned back and explained, “They came here early this morning to set up checkpoints, claiming it was for the security of tank production.”
“Your identification, sir!” A lieutenant stood expressionlessly in front of the car.
After checking the documents Francis handed him, the lieutenant’s gaze shifted to the document pouch beside Francis and asked, “What’s in there?”
“That’s none of your business!” Francis replied impatiently.
Inside were the blueprints for a new tank design that Francis intended to discuss and improve with Grevy and others.
“It is my business, sir!” the lieutenant replied coldly. “Our mission here is not just to ensure your safety but also to protect national secrets!”
Francis, left with no choice, handed the document pouch to the lieutenant.
The lieutenant opened it, glanced briefly at the documents, and immediately grew alert. His gaze locked on Francis as he asked, “What is this?”
“Tank blueprints,” Francis answered truthfully. “I’m preparing to modify them…”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the lieutenant said, returning the blueprints to Francis. “You cannot take these out. If you must, you need to register them in advance, provide detailed documentation about their content, destination, and purpose, and we will assign someone to accompany you.”
Already in a foul mood, Francis exploded in rage. He roared, “Lieutenant, I just produce tanks to sell to you; you have no right to restrict my freedom—”
His voice trailed off as he noticed the lieutenant standing upright and resting his hand on his pistol. The guards at the front of the car had also unslung their rifles from their shoulders.
The lieutenant’s tone turned stern, carrying a hint of command. “Apologies, sir! Indeed, you only sell us tanks, but we pay for them and risk our lives on the battlefield. If the enemy learns of the tanks’ weaknesses, our soldiers will die in droves. Do you still think this is your freedom?”
By the end, the lieutenant’s eyes even carried a hint of killing intent.
Left with no alternative, Francis ordered his steward to turn the car around and leave the blueprints at his villa.
This time, the lieutenant added a body search. He explained, “I have reason to suspect you’re carrying the blueprints on you, sir. After all, they’re just pieces of paper.”
Francis gritted his teeth and said nothing. He knew it was pointless to argue with these soldiers.
…
When Francis arrived at the Blyde Manor, his first words were, “Can you get rid of the guards at my gate? They’re as annoying as flies. I almost lost my life earlier because of a blueprint!”
Armand was unaware of the situation and asked in confusion, “What guards?”
Grevy, who had been to Charles’ factory and knew something of the circumstances, sat by the fireplace, elegantly warming his hands. Calmly, he countered, “Who do you think those guards are?”
“Whose?” Francis didn’t understand the implication. “Aren’t they from the government?”
“They’re Gallieni’s men, Francis!” Grevy chuckled. “They’re there to protect Charles!”
Francis suddenly understood. Charles—once again, it was Charles. Everything revolved around Charles!
He then recalled the issue with Pierre’s conscription, which had seemed settled but had unexpectedly become problematic. Clearly, this too was Charles’ doing!
Francis felt utterly humiliated, even tempted to confront Charles immediately.
But Grevy seemed indifferent. He removed his white gloves and tossed them onto the side table before standing and approaching the fire. Gazing into the flames, he mused, “We have bigger problems, gentlemen. Our competitor is not just Charles!”
Francis looked at Grevy in disbelief. He couldn’t imagine anyone else producing tanks besides Charles.
Grevy soon provided the answer: “Schneider Company, gentlemen! They have the support of Joffre and the Automotive Technical Service. They’re developing a new type of tank!”
Everyone was stunned.
Schneider was an established French arms manufacturer, known for producing cannons and warships. It had the capital, resources, and expertise.
Joffre was the commander-in-chief of the French army.
The Automotive Technical Service was the government department overseeing military vehicles.
Together, they seemed unstoppable.
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