It was a bright morning with a gentle autumn breeze. Grevy and Armand, dressed in fitted hunting outfits and armed with double-barreled shotguns, were riding through their private forest preserve on horseback.

Their servants lined up on the opposite end, leading hounds and jogging along to flush out game toward the two men for their entertainment.

“This may be our last hunt of the year, Armand!” Grevy remarked, skillfully guiding his horse with light steps as he gazed at the fading leaves around them. “Once winter sets in, all the game will be holed up, and no amount of digging would bring them out.”

Armand, trailing lazily behind on his horse, yawned and replied, “That’s exactly why I prefer hunting in bed, Grevy! They’re always waiting there, anytime I want, and entirely at my disposal.”

Grevy burst into laughter, but a sudden noise in the bushes caught his attention. He quickly stifled his laugh and stared intently at the rustling foliage.

A weary stag appeared, gasping for air, evidently exhausted. Grevy immediately reined in his horse, took aim with his shotgun, and prepared to fire.

But just as his finger moved to the trigger, the sound of approaching hooves startled the deer, causing it to bolt.

Grumbling, Grevy lowered his gun, muttering, “Damn it!” Then he turned to the approaching servant, intending to scold him unless it was urgent news.

“Mr. Grevy!” the servant said, bringing his horse to a halt beside Grevy’s. “It’s as you anticipated—Deyoka went to City Hall this morning to register the patent for the sidecar. We planned to discuss purchasing the rights, but someone beat us to it!”

Grevy’s expression darkened. “Someone beat us? Was it the Left?”

“No, sir!” the servant replied. “It was Gallieni. He didn’t purchase the patent; he placed an order on behalf of the military.”

Grevy’s head shot up in surprise. If the military had already placed an order, acquiring the patent would be far more challenging.

Armand, sitting nearby, smiled cryptically. The army had ordered sidecars so soon and had bypassed the Senate, meaning Gallieni had already classified the sidecar under the wartime procurement ordinance. This was now the second piece of equipment under that special designation.

“Gallieni’s got nerve,” Armand said. “He’s willing to offend both the Left and the Right.”

The Saint-Etienne machine gun was a Leftist-backed piece of equipment, while the sidecar was something the Right had hoped to secure. Gallieni had interfered with both.

“What’s the price? Have they settled on one?” Grevy asked coolly.

“Yes, sir,” the servant replied. “I hear it’s 550 francs.”

“Five hundred fifty francs? Are you certain?” Grevy exclaimed.

“Yes, sir!”

Without another word, Grevy turned his horse and galloped back toward the estate at top speed.

Confused, Armand spurred his horse to follow, shouting over the noise of the hoofbeats, “What’s going on, Grevy? Is it because of the 550 francs?”

“Yes!” Grevy called back over his shoulder.

“What’s that got to do with us?” Armand asked, still baffled. “We’re not buying the rights to it anyway!”

“Think of the tanks!” Grevy replied, glancing back. “We’re planning to sell them to the military for 6,000 francs apiece!”

Armand was still confused. To him, tanks and sidecars were entirely different products.

“Consider this, Armand!” Grevy shouted, explaining as they rode. “For the price of one tank, they can buy ten sidecars. Which would you prefer?”

Armand froze, his horse slowing as realization struck him.

With ten sidecars, the army could mount ten Maxim guns, while a tank could only carry one. A tank also had the disadvantages of slow speed and high maintenance issues. The military would obviously prefer ten sidecars over one tank.

Leaving Armand far behind, Grevy pushed his horse harder toward the estate. He leaped off at the front door, dashed inside, and urgently dialed his office. “5,000 francs!” he barked into the phone. “Sign the contract immediately—no delay!”

When the military representative returned to the negotiation room, he wore a far more relaxed expression, even a hint of a smile.

Francis, sensing trouble, maintained an indifferent façade. “Well, you’re in luck, Louis. They don’t want to waste time, so they’re willing to go with 5,000 francs per unit. Let’s sign the contract.”

“Actually, Francis,” Louis replied with a slight smile, “3,000 francs per unit might be more acceptable.”

“That’s absurd!” Francis’s calm demeanor instantly vanished. “It’s an insult! We’re talking about tanks here, Louis—you need them!”

“Oh, we know that,” Louis interrupted. “But now we have an alternative, and it only costs 550 francs.”

Realization dawned on Francis. This was because of Deyoka, who had sold the sidecars at the low price of 550 francs!

This was something Charles had not anticipated.

In his view, tanks and sidecars shouldn’t have been in a competitive price relationship at all.

So when Deyoka later told him that the army had used the sidecars to push the tank price down to 3,000 francs, Charles found it hard to believe.

After considering it, he understood.

At this point, the military had no concept of armored or mobile warfare. To them, tanks and sidecars were similar: both had armor, both carried machine guns, both could inflict significant casualties.

If they saw them as more or less the same, why would they pay a premium for tanks when they could purchase fast, low-maintenance sidecars for a fraction of the cost?

Did Gallieni truly not understand the difference, or was he merely feigning ignorance to lower the price?

Charles guessed that Gallieni genuinely didn’t know. After all, the concept of armored warfare was brand new, and sidecars were also an unknown quantity. It would take time to develop theories explaining the respective roles and limitations of tanks and sidecars.

“And there’s this,” Deyoka said, handing Charles a telegram. “It’s from Joseph in England. The British are willing to sell us a production line for the ‘Holt 75’ and offer full technical support, but the price is 500,000 francs.”

A trace of worry flickered in Deyoka’s eyes; 500,000 francs was more than they could afford unless they immediately received payment for the military’s sidecar order.

But Charles was untroubled. He replied calmly, “Tell Joseph to renegotiate.”

“He’s tried that several times already,” Deyoka said with a sigh. “Joseph says this is likely the British’s lowest price.”

Charles replied without hesitation. “Tell him we’ll pay 250,000 francs—no higher.”

“That’s impossible!” Deyoka looked at Charles in disbelief.

“Otherwise, let them know we’ll wait for the ‘Holt 120,'” Charles added.

Deyoka’s eyes widened. The “Holt 120” was coming out soon?

This meant that the “Holt 75” was soon to be obsolete. And the British had been trying to sell it at a premium?

(End of Chapter)

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