Chapter 270: Internal Issues
Rayom carefully considered Grevy’s words.
He believed Grevy was right. Before this, Rayom had not realized that Charles was his potential rival; it was as if he had suddenly awoken to the truth.
If this continued, it would be Charles, not him, who would possess Saint-Étienne in the future.
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Rayom understood what Grevy meant by "cooperation"—it was about dealing with Charles.
However…
"You are powerless against Charles," Rayom said, his gaze filled with doubt as he scrutinized Grevy. "You can’t compete with Charles in industry, and he is well-protected by the military; there’s nothing you can do!"
Rayom wanted to know if Grevy was worth cooperating with.
If all he could do was talk, there would be no point in cooperation; it would only mean Rayom was being used as a pawn, fighting Charles at the forefront. Perhaps even his father and brother would be involved!
A flash of discomfort crossed Grevy’s eyes. What Rayom said was mostly correct. Grevy really couldn't do much; his only course of action was to win over those factions that had potential conflicts with Charles.
Interests?
Doing so seemed to hold no benefit for the right-wing factions. In fact, they were spending money on these matters without any return.
Goal?
Grevy’s initial plan had been to pit capitalists against capitalists, creating internal strife, and ideally forcing Charles to join his system.
However, Grevy soon realized how naïve he had been.
Charles’s inventions kept coming one after another, surging forward like a tidal wave. In just a few months, his assets had multiplied several times, even expanding abroad. He was already outpacing everyone, and even Schneider was scrambling to keep up.
Force Charles to turn back?
Charles didn’t even feel the pressure from the right-wing; instead, it was the right-wing that felt the pressure from Charles. Many in the right-wing now believed the agricultural-based society was a thing of the past, and Charles would lead France’s industry to new heights!
But Grevy still couldn’t accept this.
This was not the country and society he wanted; this was not the future of France, especially when sitting here and seeing the bleak Saint-Étienne—it only strengthened his resolve.
"I truly can’t offer you anything, Mr. Rayom," Grevy leaned forward across the table, lowering his voice. "But Schneider can."
Rayom immediately understood—Grevy was here to broker a connection between him and Schneider.
...
In a meeting room at the Ritz Hotel in Paris, a machine gun was mounted on the table, complete with a round drum magazine.
Steed opened a bottle of champagne and personally poured some for Charles.
Dominique also took a glass.
He never drank alcohol, as it blurred his vision and hindered his aim when shooting. He hated the feeling of holding a gun but being unable to hit the target. Whenever that happened, it felt like his hands, eyes, and even his brain were no longer his own.
But today, in this moment, Dominique felt that he could have a drink, to celebrate the creation of this machine gun.
"It’s heavier than the Chauchat," Dominique held his glass, his gaze fixed on the machine gun, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The Chauchat weighs 9 kilograms; this one weighs 9.1, but it’s still excellent because it can hold 47 rounds, whereas the Chauchat only holds 20!"
Dominique turned his gaze to Charles, his eyes filled with admiration and surprise. "We’ve only expanded the disk by a few centimeters, and it can hold 7 more rounds. It's hard to imagine."
This was entirely normal; the diameter had been increased, which expanded the circumference.
The circumference is related to the diameter by the formula πd, and the number of rounds that can be packed is determined by the circumference.
Steed stepped forward and patted the machine gun, nodding in satisfaction.
"We’ve conducted rigorous shooting tests on it, and of course, we compared it with the Chauchat."
"It has a much lower failure rate than the Chauchat, and its sustained firepower is particularly impressive."
"If we use two spare barrels instead of just one, its rate of fire can even match that of a heavy machine gun!"
...
This was a bit of an exaggeration; in actual combat, a light machine gun couldn’t continuously fire like a Maxim machine gun with its 250-round belt. Changing the drum or barrel was enough to keep the assistant gunner busy for a while.
Still, this demonstrated the excellence of the drum-fed machine gun.
Then Steed shifted the topic: "The Piteau Armaments Factory has already started producing the Chauchat machine gun. Should we…"
"We can wait," Charles interrupted Steed, "Let’s put this machine gun into production first."
Steed was taken aback. "Aren’t we going to let the military test it first?"
The usual process for weapon production was to create a sample and then let the military test it. After receiving military orders, mass production would begin.
This way, the business risk is much lower, as there was a chance of ending up with a batch of machine guns nobody would buy otherwise.
"Father." Dominique had a confident smile on his face. "The Colonel is right. You don’t have to worry about this machine gun not selling. As soon as it hits the market, it will be snapped up!"
Dominique added, "Including the international market."
Charles nodded inwardly. Dominique might not understand business, but he knew guns.
Steed, reminded by Dominique, no longer had any concerns.
He was confident about the machine gun, but the current society in France wasn’t one where excellence alone would guarantee success—it still required a decision from the parliament.
Just like how Charles’s superior tanks always lost in parliament, Steed worried that a batch of machine guns might end up in storage if the parliament blocked them.
But Dominique’s words, "including the international market," opened up a new possibility for Steed.
If France doesn’t want them, we can sell them to the UK, Russia, or the US. They won’t make the same mistake as France, openly rejecting the good in favor of the inferior—that’s the ugliness of capitalists.
Steed seemed to forget that, for seven years before the war, Saint-Étienne machine guns had been suppressed by "the ugliness of capitalists," preventing them from competing with Hotchkiss.
Then, Steed realized what Charles was aiming for. He raised his champagne glass and looked at Charles with admiration.
"If we start mass production now, when the number of these machine guns has reached a certain scale and suddenly floods the market, we could potentially eliminate the Chauchat machine guns that are being mass-produced. This would deal a heavy blow to the Piteau Armaments Factory."
This was exactly what Charles had in mind. Still, he added, "In the end, it should be the rifle that will strike the fatal blow to the Piteau Armaments Factory."
"Yes," Steed agreed. "We’ve already started developing the ammunition."
He then turned his gaze to Dominique.
Dominique nodded. "We should have results by next week. We’re also considering the corresponding rifle to go with it."
Charles gave a non-committal hum and said lightly, "Perhaps, you should consider the internal issues."
"Internal issues?" Steed looked at Charles, puzzled.
Dominique also looked confused. What internal problems? What did Charles know?
How did he know?