After listening to Tijani's grievances, Charles responded calmly, "Your father's not wrong. You should try seeing things from his perspective."
Tijani stared at Charles in disbelief. "He's right? And you're… siding with him?"
What on earth was he doing? Playing the fool, caught between two sides?
Charles explained, "You're aware that steel prices shot up recently…"
"Yes, I know," Tijani interrupted. "The shipyard needs steel, and changes in its price will impact profits. Is that what you're getting at?"
Charles nodded.
"But profit isn't the issue here," Tijani said. "He shouldn't be so shortsighted, so focused on imdiate gains that he can't see the future. He doesn't need the money!"
Charles watched Tijani thoughtfully. "So you think it's just about money?"
"What else could it be?" Tijani said, growing more animated. "The shipyard can pass those costs onto the military. If steel's more expensive, the ships will be more expensive. What's he actually losing here? Nothing at all!"
"Survival, General," Charles replied steadily. "If things go on like this, Brest Shipyard won't last much longer, and you and your father will be left with nothing but money."
"What?" Tijani still didn't fully grasp it.
"But… if we have money, what can't we do?"
"Just answer this," Charles said. "Imagine two ships, nearly identical in design and performance. But if Schneider Shipyard can offer theirs at one-third less than Brest Shipyard, which would you choose?"
Tijani fell silent, Charles' point hitting ho. Of course, the military would choose Schneider's ships. Brest Shipyard would have no reason to exist if it kept producing the sa ships at a higher price. Its influence, its voice, and its power would all fade away. Welles might still have money, but he'd be powerless to do anything with it.
"We have torpedoes," Tijani ventured hopefully. "We used your advice to improve them. Their range is now two to three tis greater than before, reaching over three kiloters! And we still have our amphibious landing craft—the designs and technology are ours, and we're ahead in that field…"
"Doesn't matter, General," Charles reminded him. "These weapons still need specialized steel. Even if the military wants to keep working with Brest Shipyard, the company could end up restricted to niche products."
The Brest Shipyard had been building warships for France since 1624 under Louis XIV. Now, if it were reduced to building only landing crafts and torpedoes, it would effectively be expelled from the major arena of naval shipbuilding.
Charles continued, "They control Brest's lifeline, General. I might be able to offer the shipyard a future, but they control its survival. In your father's place, which would you choose?"
Tijani sat quietly, absorbing the hard truth. Without survival, there could be no future—and without a future, survival was at best a fleeting hope. In the end, Welles could only hesitate, opting for survival over any long-term promise.
"One day," Charles said, "if you inherit Brest Shipyard, you'll be faced with the sa choice, with no other options."
"So you're saying we'd end up as enemies?" Tijani shook his head, smiling faintly. "Then I'd rather end it now."
"You don't understand, General," Charles replied. "If that day cos, ending it would only put you on the sidelines. You wouldn't be able to help ."
Tijani's face showed brief confusion, but after a mont's thought, he understood. Ending Brest Shipyard would leave him with no influence, making it impossible to support Charles in any aningful way, forcing him to rely on Charles' protection.
That was the brutal reality of power struggles—they were often about forced choices, not idealistic notions of freedom.
Gradually, Tijani began to understand his father's position. He leaned back in his chair, a trace of frustration in his voice. "So we're just supposed to let things play out?"
Suddenly, he sat up straight, looking at Charles with a hopeful glint in his eye. "But you must have a plan. You wouldn't be so calm if you didn't."
"What can I do?" Charles shrugged, holding up a file. "I'm stationed here, hardly able to go ho, much less look after my business."
Tijani chuckled bitterly. "Isn't it ironic? You're fighting day and night to protect France, and yet, while you're out there, the capitalists are undermining you from the rear—and you're ready to accept that?"
"Trying to rile up won't work, General." Charles gave a slight smile, his attention drifting back to the gas mask safety guidelines.
"I think we should run so tests," he said. "We need to know how long the gas masks remain effective in various types of gas. It could be vital on the battlefield."
Charles paused, adding, "Also, different gas concentrations will likely have different safe durations. Once we know that, we can start to develop so specific counterasures."
Tijani didn't respond. He stared absently at the map of France on the wall, twirling a pencil, clearly lost in thought.
"Are you listening, General?" Charles prompted. "This could save a lot of lives."
"The lives of others aren't really our concern, Charles," Tijani said quietly. "You've already saved enough. It's ti to think of yourself."
Then, he added, "If you won't, then I will."
"Alright, then. What do you have in mind?"
"Steel!" Tijani declared. "You said it's the lifeblood of the shipyard."
"Yes."
"So, if we solve the steel issue, wouldn't that put the lifeblood back in our own hands?"
"The question is how you'd solve the steel problem," Charles countered. "Buy a steel mill? From Schneider or the Wendel family?"
No one would be foolish enough to sell a steel mill in these tis. And even if they did, the cost would be astronomical—and only if it ca with access to iron ore.
Tijani made a small circle on the German-occupied area of the map with his pencil. "You seem to forget sothing, Charles. Sixty-eight percent of France's steel industry is concentrated in the northeast, now controlled by the Germans!"
Charles gave a slight smile. Tijani was learning; they were thinking along the sa lines.
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