Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

The short man rubbed his garlic-clove-like nose with the back of his hand, pointed at the three men walking away, and said to Richard, "Just last year, two Irishmen blew up the wall in Crackenwell, killing twelve people and injuring hundreds, and you..."

He glared at Richard: "But you're covering for them?"

Richard didn't seem to care, and simply asked calmly, "Did they do it?"

"What?" The short man was stunned.

"Did they detonate the bomb?" Richard repeated.

"No, but..."

“Because if not, it seems to me you’re just venting your emotions,” Richard shook his head. “You’re taking out your hatred for all Irish people on a match girl and her child. That’s cowardly.”

The short man clenched his fists, and although he couldn't utter a word, he was clearly enraged.

"If there's nothing else, I'm going now." Richard pulled down his hat brim and led Louise into the factory.

"We'll be paying extra attention to you, sir!"

Their voices were cut off by the iron gate. The factory workers surrounded the woman who had just spoken, while her child wolfed down a piece of bread.

Sean, supporting his back, came forward: "Young Master, thanks to you, otherwise she would never have seen her child again."

His words were not an exaggeration, because at that time the workhouse was known as the "Bastille of the poor." Once inside, they faced heavy physical labor, and the overseers would even deliberately separate their relatives to prevent them from breeding.

To them, the laborers in the workhouse were no different from cockroaches under their boots.

"Your father was very good to me, and so were you," Sean said, turning to look at the mother and son. "Now you've saved my people. I don't know how to thank you enough."

"No need to say anything, I can't just watch you get beaten up by those two bastards." Richard patted him on the shoulder, and they walked over to them together.

Louise crouched down, holding the wooden box, and the child immediately hid behind his mother, still with half-chewed bread in his mouth.

"It's alright, child, you're all right," Louise said with a smile. "What's your name?"

The child didn't answer, but just looked at her warily.

"I'm Sera, and this is my son, Eamon," she said, stroking his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "We're from Islington. They're expanding the streets there, and the police just kicked us out without a word. Now we're homeless..."

Richard nodded. Such periods were not uncommon. The Crow's Nest, one of London's largest slums, was also forced to be demolished around 1840 due to the expansion of Oxford Street.

As for the Irish people living there, no one cared about their whereabouts.

"Would you like to work for me, ma'am?" Richard asked.

"A job? Here?" Sera looked at him incredulously. "But I don't know how to make guns, much less how to operate a furnace..."

“But the conditions here are truly appalling,” Richard said, looking around at the walls and floors blackened by soot. “What do you think, Sean?”

Sean quickly stepped forward: "That's right, stay, ma'am."

"A good environment can also improve the workers' physical condition," Louise added.

Sera was silent for a moment, then nodded: "Thank you, you are so kind to take in two useless people..."

“Don’t say that. Your child could be Sean’s apprentice,” Richard glanced at him. “Maybe one day he’ll become a fine craftsman too.”

Upon hearing this, Sera hugged the child tightly, stood up, and thanked him.

Richard breathed a sigh of relief, gave Sean a few more instructions, and said to Louise beside him, "Let's go, we should go home too."

"You don't look like a factory owner," Louise said as she walked him out the door.

"Then what do I look like?"

"Your actions just now were more like those of a knight."

"Really? If what just happened could earn me a knighthood, I'd do it every day," Richard said, half-jokingly.

"Actually, it's not that difficult," Louise gestured with her hand, "You just need to be at the top of the industry, and the Queen will personally bestow a title upon you."

"You make it sound so easy, but I can't even get a foot in your circle." These were Eleanor's words, but they truly stayed with Richard. In London, if you remain a commoner, you'll never become a leader in your field.

"Didn't Viscount Cavill reply to your letter? Following their usual practice, he'll probably invite you to some kind of party."

"That's great, now I don't have to pretend to be a waiter."

Richard recalled his experience from a few days ago. Although he hadn't been in that position for long, he really didn't like being bossed around.

By the time the carriage stopped in front of the mansion, it was completely dark.

Richard paid the fare and turned to help Louise out of the car. She clung to the wooden box the whole way, as if afraid it would be stolen.

"Where do you plan to put it?" Richard asked.

"By the bedside? Or in the closet?" Louise tilted her head.

"Aren't you afraid of an accidental discharge?"

"I didn't load any bullets."

Richard smiled, and the two entered the room one after the other. Aunt Susan came to greet them and, seeing the wooden box in Louise's arms, wisely refrained from asking any questions, only saying that dinner was warming up on the stove and they could eat anytime.

"I'm not eating anymore, I'm a little tired." Louise nodded to Richard. "Goodnight, Richard."

"Good night."

She carried the wooden box upstairs, her footsteps disappearing at the top of the stairs.

Richard went into the restaurant, ate a few bites of stewed beef haphazardly, drank half a glass of wine, and then went upstairs to his room.

This is his house in Kensington. Although it can't compare to the manors of the nobles in the same area, it has everything that's necessary.

The embers in the fireplace were still burning, so he bent down and added two more pieces of coal. The orange glow reflected on the carpet, warming the whole room.

He walked to the washbasin, washed his face with the cold water in the copper basin, and then dried it with a coarse linen towel.

I looked extremely tired in the mirror. I had run a lot of mileage today, from the factory to the shooting range and the conflict in the alley. It felt like three days had passed.

He took off his coat, unbuttoned his shirt, and placed the wick of the oil lamp on the bedside table.

Candles are too expensive, oil lamps are more affordable. This habit comes from the 21st century, and he always subconsciously tries to save money, even though he has enough money in his account to buy a whole room full of whale wax candles.

Richard pulled back the covers, about to lie down...

Whoosh!

Suddenly, a dark shadow shattered the glass, and shards landed on his bed.

Richard turned around abruptly and saw a fist-sized hole in the window paper. A stone had fallen in the center of the room, rolled twice, and landed on the tassels of the carpet.

A piece of paper was wrapped around the stone.

Richard's heart was pounding. He walked over barefoot, bent down to pick up the stone, and untied the note.

The handwriting is crooked and uneven, as if it was deliberately written with the left hand:

"Get out of London, or we'll burn your factory down."