Chapter 390: The Super-Range Cannon
Insurance sells the fear and anxiety of an uncertain future: people transfer their fears to the insurance company, which promises to compensate them if those fears materialize. But to buy that peace of mind, policyholders must pay a premium. So, the more fear and uncertainty there is, the better insurance companies fare.
However, Deyoka approached this opportunity with caution.
"Good business doesn't always mean profit, Charles," Deyoka warned, holding a pencil with a worried look. "If things go as some say, and the Germans do launch large-scale Zeppelin bombings over Britain…"
The result hardly needed spelling out. In such a case, the insurance company could be on the hook for immense claims, with Charles's wealth erased overnight.
But Charles, knowing this wouldn't happen, simply grinned.
"I know how to deal with it," he replied confidently. "I just haven't invented the equipment yet."
Deyoka immediately understood. Charles was planning to use his military ingenuity to manipulate the market—a brilliant strategy. He would siphon wealth from British civilians through insurance sales, while also inventing equipment he could sell to the British government to fend off German attacks. This way, when the British government successfully defended itself, it would indirectly benefit Charles's insurance business.
It was a perfect closed loop—a scheme that promised profits not in millions, but potentially in the billions. With this realization, Deyoka's eyes lit up with excitement. "Leave it to me. I'll send a team to London right away."
Now that the company had grown in scale, Deyoka no longer had to oversee every detail himself. After making a quick call, he turned to Charles with a smile.
"Did you know that Paris is actually the hardest place for us to sell insurance?"
"Paris?" Charles asked, suddenly on guard. "Is someone interfering?"
His first thought was of his capitalist rivals, especially Schneider.
"No," Deyoka replied with a shake of his head. "It seems none of them are willing to compete with us in the insurance market."
With Charles's unique military insight into the war, no one dared take on such a risk. He could influence the course of battles and, in turn, affect the likelihood of payouts.
"Then what's the issue?" Charles asked, intrigued.
"It's because of you," Deyoka replied, raising his eyebrows.
"Me?" Charles was puzzled.
"Yes," Deyoka nodded with a smile. "Everyone believes that with you here, the Germans couldn't possibly pose a threat to Paris. They're not just confident—they're hopeful. In fact, they're wondering when the French army will march into Berlin!"
Charles nodded, finally understanding.
With no real sense of urgency, the market remained quiet, and there was no pressure for existing insurers to sell. They wouldn't part with their assets unless they felt they were at real risk of loss.
The solution was to instill a sense of danger, convincing insurers that losses were on the horizon—only then would they consider selling. However, creating a climate where Paris felt like a risky location wouldn't be easy. In reality, the German forces wouldn't come close to Paris for decades.
After some thought, Charles had an idea.
"Get the funds ready, Father," he said. "Things might start shifting here within the next few days."
"Shifting?" Deyoka asked, surprised. "You mean the Germans might attack Paris?"
Before Charles could respond, Deyoka gasped, "Oh, God—it's the Zeppelins, isn't it? They're planning to bomb Paris?"
Charles shook his head, keeping silent on the details. Some rumors were better left to others to spread; if people believed that he himself had planted them, they might dismiss them as scare tactics by an insurance company looking to make a quick profit.
Instead, he needed credible sources to float the idea—ones that could stir up the currently tranquil insurance market in Paris.
"Leave it to me," Charles instructed Deyoka as he left. "And we'll need to purchase land for a factory—about 7,000 square meters."
"Seven thousand?" Deyoka was stunned. That was enough space for a major factory.
Charles nodded casually. "I've just acquired five artillery production lines from Britain, which will start arriving in a few days."
At first, Deyoka didn't think much of it; it made sense for France to expand its artillery capabilities. But just as Charles left, he suddenly realized the implications.
"Good Lord—artillery production lines! We're manufacturing cannons!"
He jumped up and hurried to the window, hoping to catch Charles, but his car was already disappearing down the road.
Producing artillery meant competing directly with Schneider, raising tensions to a new level. The two firms' interests could soon clash over who would secure future contracts, as the military typically chose one preferred model.
Watching the car fade into the distance, Deyoka thought, This was inevitable—it was bound to happen sooner or later.
Back in Paris, Charles made a stop at the City Defense Headquarters.
"Good to see you, General." Charles saluted Gallieni.
The old general glanced up at Charles, feigning indifference. "Of course, I'm doing well!"
Lieutenant Colonel Fernand stifled a laugh, and the other officers remained silent, though they shared amused looks. Charles's absence had left Gallieni restless, his usual routines completely disrupted. He had taken to working through the night, unable to sleep, only to doze off at his desk during the day.
Lieutenant Colonel Fernand had even suggested, "Why not bring Charles back? He could split his time between here and the Police Training Base, given that it's not too far away."
"No," Gallieni had firmly replied. "He needs to stand on his own, Colonel. This is his chance to grow."
Gallieni understood that leading a unit independently was vastly different from commanding under another's watch, even if the formal role looked the same.
Charles handed Gallieni a book. "I heard you've had trouble sleeping, General. Maybe this could help you unwind at night instead of going back to work."
It was Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Charles hoped that reading a different kind of adventure might ease Gallieni's mind out of its wartime state.
The general raised an eyebrow, feigning irritation. "This is children's fiction, Brigadier. It just proves you're not grown up yet!"
Despite his words, a slight smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Consider me guilty, then," Charles chuckled, setting the book down on the table. Then, turning serious, he continued, "General, I've received intelligence. The Germans are reportedly developing a massive cannon, a super-range artillery piece that could shell Paris from afar."
Everyone in the room froze, staring at Charles in stunned silence—including Gallieni.
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