Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

As the steam gradually dissipated, Heinrich stood there, not even blinking.

He brushed past the steam, but his expression remained calm, as if nothing had happened.

Richard stepped forward and spoke to him: "Heinrich?"

Heinrich turned around, propped his long shovel on the ground, and only then did he notice Richard's presence. He quickly wiped his hands on his trouser leg, unsure whether he should stick them out.

His hands were so dirty; coal dust and grease had seeped into his skin and couldn't be removed with just a few rubs.

Richard smiled and extended his hand.

Heinrich paused for a moment, then extended his hand as well.

Richard grasped the strong, powerful hand, feeling the fine coal dust crumble in his palm.

"You were very brave just now," Richard said, looking at the steam pipe. "Does this kind of thing happen often?"

Heinrich shook his head and withdrew his hand: "Before you improved the furnace, this kind of thing happened every week, but now it happens much less frequently."

"Why did you decide to see me?" he asked, somewhat puzzled.

Richard put his hands in his pockets: "I heard that your skills are unparalleled among the workers, so I came here specifically to ask for your guidance."

The man in front of me, who showed no fear in the face of danger, suddenly scratched his head sheepishly: "I don't have any special skills, it's all accumulated over the past few decades."

"You're too modest," Richard said, looking at him. "How is everyone at home?"

Heinrich nodded: "Thanks to you, everything is fine. My wife is at home taking care of the children, and it's time for lunch."

When he talked about his wife and children, the corners of his mouth subtly curved upwards, and his tense facial muscles relaxed briefly.

"If you have any financial difficulties, you can talk to me," Richard said softly. "After all, this is my factory too."

Heinrich's hand unconsciously rubbed the shovel handle, as if something had pricked his hand.

"In terms of the economy..." He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If your children are short of money, or... if someone back home is sick, you can tell me about these difficulties," Richard quickly explained.

Heinrich's face suddenly changed, and Richard could see the veins bulging on his forehead, but he suppressed his emotions and said, "You didn't come to visit me at all. You came to question me, didn't you?"

Richard was about to deny it, but Heinrich didn't give him the chance.

"Let me put it this way," Heinrich said firmly, "I have never done anything against my conscience. If you think I have done something wrong, you had better bring evidence."

He pulled the shovel from the ground and carried it on his shoulder.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to get back to work."

After saying that, Heinrich returned to his post and never looked back at Richard again.

Richard stared at Heinrich's back. When he heard the words "economic matters," his reaction didn't seem guilty, but rather like he was afraid of being misunderstood.

His intuition told him that someone like Heinrich couldn't be a spy; he was too unlike someone who would secretly pass on intelligence.

But that remittance in the accounts is indeed suspicious. Where did that money go? What did he do with it?

Just then, Siemens walked over, his expression showing concern: "What happened, Richard? Is the conversation not going well?"

Richard shook his head, took his hand out of his pocket, and let it hang naturally at his side: "It's my problem. Can we talk in the office? I'd also like to see the ledgers."

Siemens hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

The two walked towards the side door of the workshop.

The office is located on the second floor of the main administrative building in the factory area. The entire south-facing wall is made of flat float glass, and the panoramic view of the Landor Steel Plant can be seen from the window.

Rows of regenerative open-hearth furnaces emitted bluish flames from their furnaces, while white smoke billowing from their chimneys scattered like gray ribbons in the twilight, pointing towards the Britosl Strait.

Richard stood by the window, turning the pages of the account book one by one.

Siemens sat in a chair behind his desk, his hands crossed on his knees.

"Are you suspecting my foreman of stealing money from the factory?" Siemens asked.

Richard didn't look up, his gaze still lingering on the numbers: "You think it's impossible?"

Siemens stroked his beard, his expression remarkably confident.

"Although I haven't worked with him for long, Heinrich has been a foreman since this was a copper and zinc processing plant. He has the same rigorous work attitude as me. Putting the factory's money into his own pocket..." He shook his head, "...I absolutely do not believe he would do such a thing."

Richard looked up and slammed the ledger shut. "What if he hadn't put the money in his own pocket, but instead sent the goods out of the factory?"

Siemens narrowed his eyes: "What do you mean?"

“I’ve looked at the ledgers,” Richard said, turning around. “Every single entry is correct, and there are no loopholes. But Heinrich has recently received several remittances from unknown sources.”

He looked directly into Siemens' eyes, his tone tinged with apology: "You must understand my suspicion. After all, everything we do is a state secret, and any loophole could be fatal."

Siemens fell silent. He looked out the window at the workers bustling around the furnace and tapped his fingers lightly on his knee.

"I understand." He took a deep breath. "That money couldn't have just appeared out of thin air. Do you have any thoughts?"

Richard walked to the table and felt its texture with his fingertips.

"If he wanted to get things out of the factory, he could never do it in broad daylight," he said. "He would have to do it at night, working with guards he knew well. Maybe he'd blend into the convoy, or maybe he'd smuggle them out from a secluded corner."

After saying that, he turned to Siemens: "Could you even imagine someone like that?"

Siemens pondered for a long time, circling his thumbs together.

"Heinrich got along well with almost everyone in the factory," he added, "but if you were to ask him for a trusted guard, it would be Lucas. He was from North Wales and had known Heinrich since their days at the copper and zinc plant."

"Then I'll trouble you to call them both over. I have an idea."

Siemens hesitated for a moment, then stood up, opened the door, and whispered a few words to the servants in the corridor.

A dozen minutes later, footsteps echoed down the corridor, one after the other.

Lucas arrived first. He was around fifty years old, slightly overweight, wearing an old hat and a factory patch over his coat, with the factory name and number embroidered on the edge.

He paced anxiously in the corridor, his fingers pinching the seam of his trousers as he faced the wall, as if counting the number of bricks.

Heinrich arrived shortly after, and upon seeing Lucas, he immediately stood still.

Lucas shrank back when he saw him.

The two men's expressions changed simultaneously, but before they could say a word, the office door was pushed open from the inside.

Richard leaned out halfway, a broad smile on his face.

"Mr. Lucas? Please come in. There are some things I'd like to ask you."