Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Richard was caught off guard by her question; clearly, he hadn't, at least not before he arrived.

"No, why are you suddenly asking this?" Richard stood beside her.

"I just suddenly realized how easy it is to kill people now." Louise touched the pistol on the table but didn't dare to pick it up. "Just pull the trigger, and you can take a life."

"Even so, the ministers in the War Department still think it's not fast enough." Richard smiled helplessly.

"When I was little, at Buckingham Palace, my mother arranged for a teacher to teach me swordsmanship. At the time, I thought the longsword was the strongest weapon." Louise leaned against the edge of the table. "Now, a volley of rifle fire can take down a row of soldiers."

"We're always looking for the most efficient way to kill each other." Richard leaned closer to her.

"Fighting amongst themselves? You consider the Empire's enemies as your own people?" Louise looked at him in bewilderment.

Clearly, the concept of world peace is somewhat ahead of its time for people today, especially since there was no Nobel Peace Prize at that time.

"I hope that one day I won't have to build these weapons," Richard said earnestly, looking at her.

You're lying.

"I don't."

Richard put the pistol back into its wooden box and solemnly handed it to Louise. She took it with both hands but didn't understand what it meant.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"It's yours."

"Wow!" Louise exclaimed, her mouth agape in exaggerated surprise. "The first gift you give a girl is a gun?"

"Isn't it unique?" Richard pushed open the door of the brick house.

"That's very much your style."

Louise carried the wooden box in her hands, and the two walked out of the brick factory. But before they could adjust to the light outside, a harsh shout came from around the corner of the wall.

"stop!"

They looked in the direction of the sound and saw two uniformed policemen blocking the alley entrance. The shorter, stouter one was pulling a woman's hair back.

The paper package the woman was holding was scattered all over the ground, and the matches were crushed to pieces by the policeman's thick-soled leather shoes.

"Let me go! Please let me go..." the woman cried out, her voice thick with Irish accent.

"Let you go?" the short man spat. "Brixton's workhouse is where you belong! Running around in the streets with your bastard, do you think London is some Irish backwater?"

Another tall, thin policeman was holding a five- or six-year-old boy in one hand. The boy was lifted up by his arm, his feet off the ground, his face flushed red, but he dared not cry out, his chest just kept convulsing.

"Don't touch that child!" The woman struggled desperately, but the short man slapped her across the face, causing blood to seep from the corner of her mouth, and she staggered and fell to the ground.

"Irish swine".

"stop!"

Before Richard could react, a figure beside him had already rushed out.

It's Sean.

The foreman, who was usually all smiles and honest in front of him, was now like a bull in a bullring. He rushed up to the short man in a few steps and reached out to push him.

"You bastard!"

Snapped!

The tall, thin policeman's baton slammed solidly into Sean's shoulder blade. Sean groaned, half of his body slumped down, but he gritted his teeth and didn't fall. He braced himself against the wall with one hand, his eyes fixed on the policeman who had hit the child.

"Another useless Irishman," the tall, thin man said menacingly.

"Sean!" Richard rushed forward, with Louise following behind carrying the wooden box.

"Oh, two more, this is getting more and more lively!" The short man turned his head, looked Richard up and down, and immediately noticed his decent coat. His tone immediately softened: "Sir, the Poor Law is in effect. I advise you not to meddle."

"He's my employee." Richard walked over to Sean and took his arm. "You hit one of my men."

The tall, thin man tucked his baton into his belt and smiled dismissively: "Your man? Your man attacked the police first; according to the law, he should be locked up."

"He laid a hand on him?" Richard stared at the tall, thin man. "I saw you hit him with your baton first."

"You've got it wrong." The tall, thin man had a fake smile on his face. "Sir, these two Irish bastards must go to the workhouse today. You don't need to lose your dignity for such trash."

"I saw it too," Louise stepped out from behind Richard. "How dare you call a living person trash?"

The tall, thin man glanced at her. He noticed her simple attire, but her manner and bearing clearly indicated she was not from an ordinary family. He turned to Richard and said, "Keep an eye on your wife. She has no right to speak here. Besides, we're just doing our duty."

"What did you say?" Louise raised her eyebrows; no one had ever dared to speak to her like that before. "You dare say you're doing your duty? Beating women and children is your duty?"

"Sir," the short man said impatiently, loosening the woman's hair, "we're taking these two Irishmen with us no matter what. We can let your men who assaulted a police officer go unpunished; let's all compromise. But if you insist on taking the lead..."

He patted the baton at his waist. "Don't blame us for being impolite."

Taking advantage of the moment, the woman rushed to the child's side, snatched him from the tall, thin man's arms, and hugged him tightly.

A red mark was left on the child's arm, like a bruise from being strangled by a rope. She was trembling all over and couldn't say a word. She just pressed the child's head against her shoulder and used her body to shield him.

It took Sean a while to recover. He straightened up, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, whether from being hit or biting his lip, it was unclear.

He looked at Richard as if he were looking at a savior.

Richard frowned, remembering the girl Eleanor had mentioned, Millie.

"Someone is counting on me." Her words still echoed in my ears.

He cannot change the situation of the entire Irish population, at least not now.

But he can change the fate of this mother and son right now.

"Let me put it this way, officer," Richard raised his voice, "you can't take these two men with you."

"Oh?" The short man spat on the ground. "You think you can just say you can't take it with you?"

"Because they are my people."

"Your men?" the tall, thin man chuckled. "Sir, you mentioned that man... Sean, he's your worker. Now these two are yours too? Does this mean the orphanage is yours to run?"

“Sean is Irish too,” Richard said. “These two are his distant relatives who came from Cork to stay with him. This is their first day in London, and they haven’t settled in yet. They’re coming to work at my factory, and I have employment contracts waiting for them to sign.”

"The contract?" The shorter man squinted. "Where's the contract?"

"In my office." Richard said without hesitation. "Sean, don't you think?"

Sean paused for a moment, then nodded firmly: "Yes, yes, she is my cousin. She came to stay with me with her child. I just mentioned it to the young master yesterday."

"Did you hear that?" Richard looked at the two policemen. "They are my workers, not homeless people. The Poor Law doesn't apply to them."

The tall, thin man pursed his lips, leaned close to the short man's ear, and whispered a few words.

The short man's face twitched as he listened: "Sir, even if they are your people, this woman selling matches on the street without a license is illegal..."

"What law?" Louise interrupted him. "Tell me one, I want to hear it."

The short man opened his mouth, but didn't reply.

"Can't explain it? Then let me tell you," Louise stepped closer, "The Poor Law amended in 1834 stipulates that widows with children under the age of seven should not be forcibly sent to workhouses, and outdoor relief should be given priority."

Both of them were speechless and looked at each other in bewilderment.

Richard turned to the woman and bent down: "Are you alright?"

The woman looked up, her face streaked with tears, her lips trembling, unable to utter a coherent sentence, only shaking her head desperately. The child in her arms buried his face in his mother's shoulder, his small body still shaking.

"Sean," Richard straightened up, "help your cousin up, take her to the factory, and get her and the children something to eat."

Sean, his eyes red-rimmed, nodded vigorously and stepped forward to help the woman up.