I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start

Chapter 49: Power Stems From Control

"They hold the lifeblood of France in their hands, Father," Charles explained. "Steel, rifles, artillery, and warships—all of these are essential. If any of these capitalists decided to shut their factory doors or stop selling, France would be defenseless."

Deyoka nodded, understanding. "Power comes from this control. No one dares offend them because they can decide the fate of France."

"Exactly," Charles said. "They are the upper-tier merchants who set the rules. Lower-tier merchants can only make money by playing within those rules. What they don't realize is that the upper-tier merchants, who wield real power, could ruin them with just a word. So, is money truly what matters?"

Money, Charles thought, is only safe when backed by power. With power, one could not only protect their wealth but seize others'. Without power, one could only watch as others seized what they had.

Deyoka could see the logic in Charles's view. He had sensed Charles's desire to carve out a share of power from the capitalists. What he hadn't expected was how quickly Charles would act.

After a moment's hesitation, Deyoka asked, "But military power is so limited, Charles. They don't even interfere in politics."

"That doesn't matter, Father," Charles replied. "What matters is that the military is France's defender, and by selling weapons to control the military, capitalists achieve control over France itself. Those top capitalists you mentioned—they're doing just that."

The Wendell family, for example, wasn't directly in the arms trade. They controlled steel, an essential material for the arms industry and industrial sectors alike. The French government had no choice but to grant them special privileges and approach them respectfully.

As Charles laid down his fork, he concluded, "We may be making less by partnering with the military, but that partnership is our gateway to power—and possibly our only chance at it."

Deyoka wasn't entirely sure he understood, but he knew Charles was right. A classic example of what Charles was speaking of was the Grevy family of traditional nobles. Although wealthy, they had lost influence on the political stage, which was likely why they had been so desperate to acquire the rights to tank production.

Charles decided not to go into further details—not to be mysterious, but because some things simply lay beyond Deyoka's experience.

At this point, capitalists effectively controlled the military's needs, from uniforms and rifles to artillery and warships. But two fields remained largely untouched: armored vehicles like tanks and aircraft.

It wasn't that the capitalists didn't want to take over these areas; rather, they had yet to recognize the potential of these developing fields, nor did they understand their future importance.

If Charles had tried to move into small arms manufacturing, he would've come into direct conflict with St. Étienne's arms factories. If he entered artillery production, he would clash with Schneider's interests. Shipbuilding would mean infringing on the Brest shipyards. Any of these would lead to an intense, invisible war between Charles and the major capitalists.

At present, Charles was no match for these powers. They could engineer a "traffic accident" that would end him in an instant.

But if Charles chose to develop tanks, armored vehicles, and aircraft, he would find no competitors—no enemies. At most, capitalists might consider purchasing his patents or copying his designs, a far less dangerous proposition.

So, was it a problem to accept lower profits on military sales? Not when it meant establishing a relationship with the military and seeing "Charles" emblazoned on tanks, aircraft, and armored vehicles. Over time, both the military and France would become reliant on him.

If one day he closed his factories' doors, France itself might be imperiled. And what could the capitalists do to him then? Destroy him and doom the nation?

From this perspective, Gallieni had misjudged Charles, thinking he had agreed to cooperate out of pure "conscience." Conscience did play a part, as did self-preservation, but more than anything, Charles was determined not to be a pawn in the capitalists' games. He aspired to be a player—a true powerbroker.

Perhaps sensing the extent of Charles's ambition, Deyoka felt uneasy. Maybe Charles wasn't sincerely trying to help the soldiers and common people, but rather using them as leverage in his power struggle with the capitalists.

Yet, on second thought, Deyoka could see the necessity of it. In a world governed by the ruthless logic of survival, only by pushing upward, even ruthlessly, could one avoid being perpetually subjugated. Holding back or showing mercy would only ensure failure.

This line of thought reassured him, and Deyoka nodded with conviction. "As I said before, I'll stand by your side, always."

The next morning, Deyoka went to Paris to apply for the industrial rights to the sidecar motorcycle, as Charles's legal guardian. Accompanying him were Guillaume and several other workers.

This was part of Charles's plan.

"There are a lot of parts and ideas in the sidecar design that came from the workers," Charles explained. "Like the suspension system and the triangular machine gun mount. We should protect their rights, too."

Deyoka readily agreed. He had always been loyal and fair, and acts like these came naturally to him. He took comfort in Charles's concern for the workers' welfare, though it further confirmed that he was not well-suited for the cutthroat world of commerce.

Charles had several motives for this decision:

Increased morale and creativity: Knowing they could profit from their innovations, the workers would be more likely to invent and share improvements.

Attracting talent from other factories: In other factories, capitalists appropriated workers' inventions. By protecting their intellectual property, Charles would naturally draw skilled workers to his side.

Binding workers' fates to his own: If, one day, capitalists attempted to imitate the sidecar, it wouldn't be Charles alone they would provoke. The workers, whose rights were also under threat, would be equally enraged and likely to protest on his behalf.

For a small price, Charles would gain a workforce eager, loyal, and fiercely protective of their mutual interests.

The benefits of his policy were already evident: despite Deyoka and the factory's core team being away, the factory continued to function smoothly. The workers remained focused, even resuming motorcycle production on their own.

Charles himself stayed home—Camille wouldn't let him leave.

"Wait for your father to return!" she insisted. "Until then, you're staying here!"

Charles attempted to reason with her, but she was resolute. Usually gentle and undecided, she surprised him with her steadfast resolve in this.

With no other option, Charles spent the day on his bed, paging through his textbooks. He wondered whether classes would soon resume—after all, the Germans had retreated, and their chance of launching a counterattack was gone.

Then he thought about something else: his classmates, many of whom were turning or had already turned eighteen. Next year, many of them would likely find themselves on the front lines.

In that case, what use was returning to school?

(End of Chapter)

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