The Fox of France

Chapter 269: Buying Cannons

After a night of exhausting negotiations, both Watt and Petit Boulton were weary. They were not young men anymore, and in the modern world, people of Petit Boulton's age were considered beyond the category of needing a respirator. Watt, on the other hand, was even closer to the category of "pull the plug on the respirator even if it's attached."

Of course, if they were as wealthy in modern times as they were now, there would be no need to worry about such things. After all, the rich had always been given priority, a rule followed from ancient times to the present day. Even His Imperial Majesty once said, "Such is life."

Joseph Fouché came to visit them in the evening, claiming he had just arrived here. His immediate visit after arriving displayed Joseph's respect for Watt, a pioneer in the field of science. However, Watt had a lingering suspicion. Joseph, in perfect timing, chose this moment to arrive and immediately started discussing business. Was he trying to take advantage of their weakened state, hoping to gain an upper hand?

With this thought in mind, Watt quickly pulled Petit Boulton aside, and they painstakingly reexamined all the terms they had just negotiated, until both of them had throbbing headaches. Finally, they set aside the contract.

"Mr. Watt, I believe there are no loopholes in the contract. While we may not have gained much from President Bonaparte, we certainly won't be at a loss. This should indeed be a win-win collaboration. Besides, my head is starting to spin, and I don't think there's much more to be gained from further discussion. Let's call it a night," Petit Boulton said.

"Yes, yes, I'm getting a headache too," Watt said. "Matthew, can you still sleep now?"

"How is that possible?" Petit Boulton replied. "Do you think I'm still in my thirties? Back then, no matter what time it was, as soon as my head touched the pillow, I could fall asleep instantly. But now, if I miss that window for sleep, no matter how tired I am, even if my head feels as heavy as granite, I still can't fall asleep. Well, Mr. Watt, what about you?"

"Me? I'm quite a bit older than you, so this has been my reality for a while. Well, since we can't sleep, shall we have dinner together and then go for a walk?" Watt suggested.

"Sure," Petit Boulton agreed. "The breakfasts in France are my second favorite thing about this place."

"What's your first favorite thing?" Watt asked.

"Good weather, always good weather," Petit Boulton replied.

"Your opinion is quite similar to mine, but the order of first and second would be different for me. I've been thinking whether I should fire our damned cook at home."

The two of them had a breakfast far superior to stargazing, and then they made their way to the "Palace of Peace."

The morning was sunny, and from a distance, the Palace of Peace, covered in a layer of white marble, sparkled. As they approached, they noticed there were more people around the Palace of Peace today.

"Tomorrow's the grand opening, no wonder there are so many people," Watt remarked.

"Do you want to go have a look? Maybe there are more novelties to discover," Petit Boulton suggested.

"No," Watt suddenly said. "For us, the most important things have already been seen. Moreover, our money has already been allocated. Even if we were to see more, we wouldn't have the funds to acquire them. Besides, if we see everything now, it won't be as exciting when the opening ceremony arrives. Let's go somewhere else for a walk."

"That's true. After all, our main mission for this trip is essentially complete, isn't it?" Petit Boulton said. "The good fight has been fought, the race has been run, and the tasks have been accomplished. From now on, we have some leisure time."

"Haha, Matthew, you're twisting the Bible."

"No, Mr. Watt, I'm paying homage to it."

They continued to chat and joke as they walked in another direction.

However, on the following morning, both of them felt some regret.

The opening ceremony was actually well organized, incorporating elements from modern opening ceremonies: group exercises, parades, and a lively atmosphere. For the people of that time, who had never experienced such entertainment, it was a truly joyous occasion. But for Watt and Petit Boulton, who were getting on in years, the noise was a bit too much.

However, that wasn't a major issue. The noise was part of the celebration, and they were still having fun. What bothered them more was when Lucien took the stage and delivered a speech. This fellow rambled on for what felt like ages, comparing this event to the ancient Greek festival of Dionysus one moment and discussing Roman civilization the next. He then meandered into the territory of shared prosperity, talking for over an hour, until Watt, seated in the front row, could barely keep his eyes open. Lucien finally wrapped up his long-winded speech with a simple phrase: "I wish for world peace!"

After that, a round of ceremonial cannon fire woke up those who had been lulled to sleep by Lucien, urging them to hurry up and spend money.

After the opening ceremony, Watt and Petit Boulton followed their original plan and wandered through the square outside the Palace of Peace. They explored various exotic goods they hadn't seen before. Even in the semi-open exhibition halls, they discovered plenty of new and creative items. For instance, Watt came across something called a "typewriter" at a relatively inconspicuous small business booth, which he found to be quite impressive.

Although this device was relatively simple in design, it proved to be incredibly efficient in use. The demonstrator effortlessly typed out an entire page of text in no time, significantly faster than handwriting and with clear and neat typography.

Watt immediately inquired about the price of the device and discreetly asked about whether it had been patented. Unfortunately, he received a disappointing response – the device had already been patented.

"This thing may look simple, but it will likely sell well in the future," Watt told Petit Boulton, disappointed. "It's a pity we don't have the funds, nor the manpower to engage in this business."

As they were discussing this, they noticed a familiar face passing by.

"Ah, that person seems like someone we've seen somewhere before," Watt remarked.

"Yes, it seems so, in Fermanagh..." Petit Boulton started but stopped short.

The person who had just passed by was Lieutenant Fermanagh of the British Royal Navy. In the past, during the development of steamships in the British Navy, both Watt and Petit Boulton had interacted with him. However, at this moment, he was dressed casually and in the attire of a merchant. It was likely that he was on some sort of secret mission.

Watt and Petit Boulton knew it was best not to interfere with such matters and pretended not to have seen him.

Lieutenant Fermanagh, on the other hand, had just exited the Palace of Peace and was engaged in conversation with an Italian merchant. Moments ago, he had posed as a Mexican businessman and discussed the purchase of cannons with the "Bonaparte Arsenal" representatives while subtly gathering information about the cannons' performance.

If the Bonaparte Arsenal representatives were not exaggerating, these cannons, especially in terms of their penetrating power, even surpassed the 36-pound cannons used on battleships. Furthermore, they were incredibly lightweight. This had the British naval officer deeply concerned.

"Even the vessel we faced before, the Narwhal, equipped with these cannons, could pierce the hull of our battleships at normal combat distances. Considering the Narwhal's clear advantage in speed, it would certainly gain a tactical advantage when facing our battleships. In single-ship combat, it could even challenge first-rate battleships like the HMS Victory. This is truly alarming and completely disrupts our naval warfare strategies."

At present, the British had not been able to manufacture steamships comparable to the Narwhal. They had tried various methods, such as placing the paddlewheel at the stern or increasing length and width, but their new steamships still fell far short of the Narwhal.

"In any case, even if we can't obtain the Narwhal's technology for now, at the very least, we cannot let the French outstrip us in artillery."

Lieutenant Fermanagh expressed his desire to purchase these cannons from the French – buying one or two to study and potentially reverse-engineer would be ideal.

The French had been very receptive to his inquiries until he asked to buy two cannons. At this point, the previously friendly Frenchman's demeanor took a sudden turn.

"Sir, we don't engage in small transactions," the Frenchman said, displaying a clear disdain for a cash-strapped small merchant. It was as if he were scolding himself for wasting so much time.

"In that case, what's the minimum quantity you accept?" Lieutenant Fermanagh asked.

"No less than 12 cannons," the Frenchman replied.

Lieutenant Fermanagh calculated that this price exceeded the authorization he had received. So, he tried to negotiate further with the Frenchman, but at this point, an Italian merchant approached. This Italian hailed from the Papal States, and he seemed to be very familiar with the Frenchmen. The Frenchman immediately abandoned Lieutenant Fermanagh to curry favor with the Italian.

Soon, the Italian was ready to place an order for a full 48 cannons. The Papal States' military, despite having good equipment, had limited combat capability. These purchases were, to a large extent, protection money – similar to how major players in the modern world paid tribute to the Imperial Sovereign.

Observing the Italian easily signing the purchase contract, Lieutenant Fermanagh suddenly had an idea – the French only sold in bulk, but he could still buy one or two cannons from the Italian!

He approached the Italian, introduced himself, and explained that he only had the money to buy two cannons, but the French required a minimum order of twelve. He then suggested that they pool their resources to buy two cannons together.

"Sir," the Italian looked at him with suspicion, "I can tell you make your living at sea. Are you involved in the kind of business conducted in the Caribbean? But I don't mind. I believe neither would the Lord. However, if you want my help, you must show a bit of sincerity."

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