Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Ironically, the Morgan family, whom Richard initially distrusted, now appears to be the least susceptible to infiltration. Under their rule, Monmouthshire is virtually monolithic, and everyone lives at their beck and call.

Furthermore, the technology of low-carbon steel is not very valuable, so even if it is leaked, it will only save the opponent a few months.

Based on this, her most likely targets for infiltration are secondary key figures: the foreman at Siemens, the general manager at Armstrong, and Abel's assistant.

These people aren't in the decision-making level, but they know the details written down.

They are still on our side, but Eleanor’s rhetoric can be quite persuasive at times, and Richard has to be extra careful with these guys.

Richard rubbed his temples, took out a notebook he always carried with him, and wrote down the names of several people on the pages: Heinrich, the foreman of Siemens; Andrew, the general manager of Armstrong; and Thomas, Abel's assistant.

Then he tore the page from the notebook, folded it, and held it in his hand.

He straightened up from the pillar and walked towards the workshop door.

Henry was still squatting next to the Gatling gun, the ammunition box was more than half empty, and the full magazines were neatly stacked at his feet.

But he was still moving, seemingly checking if the machine gun was running smoothly, as if it were about to be deployed to the battlefield at any moment.

Richard walked up to him and handed him the folded piece of paper.

Henry paused for a moment and looked up.

Richard could almost see through Richard's dark pupils to his skull, which was completely empty.

He seemed unaware that he was still alive, mechanically obeying orders without uttering a word.

"Reginald has gone to check on one of the people listed here," Richard said. "But I still need information on the other two. Give it to me when you're done."

Henry glanced at the paper in Richard's hand, then stretched out his spindle-sized fingers, pinched its edge, pulled it from Richard's hand, folded it hastily without looking at it, and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his work jacket.

He lowered his hand from his chest and began to re-examine the magazines that had already been loaded.

Richard stood beside him, looking at the sharply defined back of his head, and couldn't help but sigh.

Sometimes he really doubted whether Henry understood English, or rather, whether he only listened to Reginald.

But Henry must be capable; otherwise, someone as intelligent as Reginald would never have kept a useless person by his side.

He turned around and walked toward the carriage waiting at the factory gate.

The driver had already opened the car door. He bent down, climbed in, and leaned back in the seat.

The carriage carried him away from the factory, and the beach in Dartford gradually receded into the distance.

Kensington, two days later.

Richard sat at the pristine white dining table, enjoying a cup of coffee that Aunt Susan had just brewed, a fine layer of grease floating on the dark brown surface.

The Times newspaper spread out in front of him featured a large front page reporting Gladstone's official appointment as Prime Minister and the formation of his cabinet, with bold, eye-catching headlines.

Richard took a sip of coffee and turned to page three of the newspaper.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Harold was standing next to the coat rack in the hallway, holding Richard's coat, about to take it out to wash.

He heard a knock on the door, draped his coat over his arm, and went to open it.

A newsboy was standing outside the door.

He was wearing a worn-out dark coat, with his wrists, red from the cold wind, peeking out from the cuffs.

Before Harold could react, he shoved a thick roll of newspaper into Harold's hand: "Good morning, sir, your newspaper has arrived."

Harold looked down at the rolled-up newspaper in his hand, his brow furrowing.

He squeezed it with his hands; the paper roll felt wrong, and the weight was wrong too—it was much thicker and heavier than the newspapers they subscribed to every day.

"What newspaper? Our newspaper has been out for ages..." He looked up, but the newsboy was already gone.

He had already reached the iron gate, and without looking back, he turned the corner and disappeared.

Harold stood there, frozen, clutching the rolled-up newspaper in his hand.

He shook his head, closed the door, and was about to speak when Richard put down his coffee cup and stood up from the table.

"What's wrong?" Richard asked.

"A newsboy came in," Harold said, handing over the rolled-up newspaper, "saying it was our subscription. But our newspaper arrived hours ago."

Richard strode over and took the roll of newspaper from Harold's hand.

The roll of paper was heavier than he had expected. He brought it close to his nose and smelled it, but it didn't have the usual ink smell of newspaper.

He understood immediately.

Richard grabbed the rolled-up newspaper and went upstairs, Harold following behind, carrying the coat: "Young Master, your coffee!"

But Richard didn't care about any of that; he rushed into the study and shut the door tightly.

He sat down in the deep red leather chair, placed the roll of paper on the desk, quickly cut off the outermost layer of newspaper, and tossed it aside.

That was indeed a copy of The Times from that day, and the date and layout were correct.

But beneath the newspaper were three neatly folded archival documents.

High-quality striped paper has a crisp feel and sharp edges.

Richard unfolded the first document.

It was Andrew, the manager of Sir Armstrong's factory.

A Scotsman, an artillery expert by training, who served in the Royal Artillery and was later hired by Sir Armstrong as the factory manager after his retirement.

Every section of the resume in the file is written clearly and meticulously; it is an impeccable, standard, and exemplary resume.

However, in recent months, he has been doing business with banks with Prussian capital backgrounds.

The account also received two remittances from dubious sources, but in this era, it was not uncommon for Armstrong's steward to have dealings with the Prussians.

Elswick's business spans across Europe, ranging from railway tracks to mining machinery to water conservancy facilities. Every year, a large number of orders come in from Prussia, France, and Russia, and it is perfectly normal for them to have financial dealings with banks and trading companies in those countries.

While those remittances were indeed substantial, could they buy a factory manager who had served Sir Armstrong for years and even become a partner?

Richard was unaware of this; it still needed to be verified.

He put down the first document and began working on the second.

It is the file of Heinrich, Mr. Siemens' foreman at the Landor smelter.

A German immigrant, he came to England from Berlin after the Prussian Revolution in 1848. He first worked as a laborer in a small iron foundry in Germany, but was later noticed by Mr. Siemens and promoted all the way to foreman.

He married a British woman, had two children, and owned a small house in Swansea.

His brother was still serving in the Prussian army, as an ordinary soldier in an infantry division.

The family wasn't wealthy, but the foreman's salary plus his wife's income as a maid was enough for the family of four to live a decent life.