Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Upon hearing Abel's explanation, Reginald slowly put the gun back into its holster.

He stamped his feet, as if it was too cold.

He raised his hand to pull down Abel's arm that was blocking his way and walked towards Thomas.

Seeing that he showed no sign of stopping, Thomas suddenly made a gesture as if to smash the test tube, threatening in a hoarse voice:

"Stop going any further!"

Reginald stopped, just four steps away from Thomas.

He took the pipe from his mouth, stuffed it into his pocket, and then sighed.

"Can't you fucking grow up?"

Thomas froze, then his eyes widened.

"What...what did you say?"

Abel stood beside the test bench, his back soaked in cold sweat, his heart pounding as he watched Reginald's retreating figure.

He cursed Reginald countless times in his heart. How dare he use words to provoke someone who had already said "let's all die together"? Especially when he was holding nitroglycerin, enough to blow up the entire laboratory.

Reginald shook his head, glancing down at his Oxford shoes: "You know, when I was at the Brighton estate, my noble father made it clear to me... that the world owes me nothing."

Thomas clenched his fists; he knew what was coming next would be unpleasant.

"I have no illusions, so I never feel wronged." Reginald dusted off his shoulders and looked up to look directly at Thomas.

"You think you're smart enough, so the empire rewards you; but when you realize they aren't, you switch sides to the enemy." He tilted his head. "You don't really think this is revenge against those nobles, do you?"

Thomas's lips were trembling, and a shallow bloodstain was left on his lower lip from being bitten by his teeth. The liquid in the test tube was shaking even more violently.

Reginald took two steps forward and said, "No... you've just given them another source of amusement at the club."

He deliberately lowered his voice, mimicking the tone of those old-money types: "Look! Yet another madman is trying to prove his existence to the world through his own destruction."

Looking at Thomas's face, which had turned pale with anger, Reginald laughed and said, "I've never heard of anything more humiliating."

"I'm not crazy!" Thomas retorted sharply, but now sounded so powerless.

Reginald's eyes widened as he exaggeratedly sized Thomas up and down: "Really? Look at you now! Red eyes, disheveled hair, threatening to blow us all to bits..."

He looked at the test tube between the five pale fingers: "I can't find a more suitable word than 'madman'."

"You..." Thomas's breathing became erratic, and the words were squeezed out from between his teeth.

Instead of shutting up, Reginald took a step forward and his words became even more offensive.

"Wait...you're not just a madman, you're a traitor."

"Shut up!" Thomas roared, as if he was about to throw the test tube at any moment.

Just as he was about to lose his temper, Reginald punched Thomas in the chin without warning, right at the junction of his cheekbone and jawbone.

Bang!

The clean, decisive hook punch landed on his face with a dull thud.

Thomas's legs buckled, and his body swayed to one side. Reginald's hand followed closely, grabbing Thomas's wrist that was holding the test tube with his left hand, pressing his thumb into the indentation above the wrist bone, twisting hard, pressing his elbow into his knee, and slamming him to the ground.

In the blink of an eye, the cold cement floor was already pressed against Thomas's cheek.

Reginald casually pried open his fingers and removed the dangerous test tube.

The two patrolmen behind Abel rushed forward, grabbed Thomas's shoulders, and snapped the handcuffs onto his wrists.

After confirming that Thomas had been subdued, Reginald straightened up and looked at Abel.

He grinned mischievously, swung his arm back, and made a throwing motion.

Abel's nerves, which had just relaxed, tensed up again. He raised his hands and shouted, "No no no no no!"

Reginald, of course, didn't throw it away. He retrieved the test tube, walked to the experimental rack, and put it back in its original position.

The test tubes were placed on a wooden test tube rack, and the glass touched the wood, making a clinking sound.

"Relax, Professor." He straightened up. "I was just joking."

Abel wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand: "Sir, you just... almost gave me a heart attack."

He looked at Thomas, whose arms were being held by the police. Thomas's chin was swollen and red from Reginald's punch, and blood was seeping from the wound on his lip. There was still resentment in his eyes.

Abel shook his head and said to Reginald, "What you just did was... too audacious."

"Daring?" He raised an eyebrow. "Like I said, only a madman would want to die together with someone else. He's a genius, and geniuses are most afraid of death."

"After all, the person who wrote that death is a cool and quiet night has never died," Reginald added with a slight smile.

For some reason, Abel felt a strange sense of awe towards the man before him. This was a completely different way of life for him, subtle and complex. He could only imagine what Reginald had gone through.

"Excuse me, where will this child... Thomas, be taken?" Abel changed the subject.

Reginald replied nonchalantly, "He'll go straight to jail. They won't give him a chance to go to court or hire a lawyer."

Abel shut his mouth, watching Thomas's retreating figure with regret.

The police had already shoved him out of the lab, and there was still a small pool of dark red blood on his lab coat.

Reginald straightened his clothes and faced Abel: "You can continue with your work. The Royal Chemistry Academy will assign you another assistant. This time, I will check it thoroughly."

Abel nodded, and Reginald, seeing that he had nothing to say, turned and walked out of the laboratory, closing the door behind him.

As the footsteps and hooves outside the door grew fainter and fainter, Abel leaned on the experimental table and slowly sat down.

In the quiet laboratory, he supported his forehead with his hand, feeling a wave of dizziness.

Upper-class intellectuals like Abel often possess a paternalistic arrogance.

He genuinely believed that through scientific education, outstanding young people from the lower classes could be transformed into usable talents for the empire. He even defied public opinion and kept Thomas by his side without a letter of recommendation from a nobleman.

He looked up at the glassware that Thomas had used on the lab table, and the vial of nitroglycerin that Reginald had put back, recalling why he had kept Thomas by his side.

Perhaps he saw his own youthful days of studying hard in Thomas; perhaps he simply wanted to mold Thomas into a model of scientific education, a good young man from the slums who would eventually stand in the center of the academic hall to receive applause.

Now, all of that is gone.