Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

The next morning, Richard had just finished breakfast and hadn't even swallowed the last sip of coffee when footsteps sounded at the bottom of the stairs.

Godfrey appeared at the restaurant entrance, wearing a Norfolk jacket, a thick khaki woolen jacket with a matching belt tied in a loose knot at his waist.

The jacket's pockets were much deeper than those of a regular coat, with the left one bulging out, revealing the edge of a brass cartridge case.

This garment was the most practical hunting equipment at the time, allowing for a wide range of arm movements without being restricted by the fabric, and the ammunition pockets were within easy reach.

He held a disassembled double-barreled shotgun in his right hand, the butt tucked under his arm, the barrel hanging low. In his left hand he held two deerstalker hats, and he handed one of them toward Richard.

"Let's go, Mr. Brian," Godfrey sounded energized. "We need to go hunting; foxes are best caught at this time of day."

So Richard went upstairs to change into his leather boots and then put on his heavy wool coat.

The hat was the deerstalker hat that Godfrey had handed him. Richard put it on, stood in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway, looked at himself, and couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

He imagined himself as Sherlock Holmes, even though Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had not yet created the great detective who lived on Baker Street.

The door was wide open, and Richard followed him out of the foyer.

Godfrey waited on the steps, pulled his deerstalker hat over his head, took a pair of leather gloves from his coat pocket, and, biting his fingertips, slipped them on one by one.

"Would you like a gun?" Godfrey tilted his head towards the gun cabinet next to the foyer, where five or six long guns stood, their barrels polished to a gleaming shine by the servants. "There are plenty in the manor; you can use whichever one you like."

Richard shook his head: "No, thank you for your kindness."

"That's a shame." He sighed, glancing at the corner of the porch. "Then, can you bring the dog on a leash?"

Richard followed his gaze and saw a Setter lying on the carpet in the corner, its head resting on its front paws, its soft ears drooping naturally, and its light brown fur as smooth as silk.

"Seva!" Godfrey shouted.

It heard its name mentioned, its ears twitched, it raised its head, looked at Godfrey with its bright black eyes, and its tail swept across the ground repeatedly.

Richard walked over and picked up the leather cord attached to the collar from the ground.

The dog stood up, shook its fur, and knew that today it wasn't time to run around and frolic, but to go out and work with its owner.

"Good dog," Richard said.

Godfrey smiled, turned and walked down the steps, with Richard following behind on a dog leash.

The two walked up the mountain along the path behind the manor, with bare bushes on both sides, their branches still covered in frost.

The mountaintop was shrouded in clouds and mist, and only the grassy slopes halfway up the mountain, flattened by the cold wind, could be seen.

The dog walked between them, its nose close to the ground, sniffing something.

The two strolled up the ridge, where the wind gradually picked up.

Godfrey stopped, closed his shotgun, and stood gazing into the distance.

"If you have something to say, just say it." Richard wrapped the leather strap around his hand, bringing the dog closer to him.

"You're very perceptive," Godfrey said. "Some people say that the best time to talk business is during the casual conversation after dinner. But that doesn't apply in my family. There are too many things I can't say in front of my father."

"for example?"

"For example... Wells' voters."

Richard paused for a moment. The dog was squatting at his feet, looking up at the two of them curiously.

He reached out and touched the dog's ear, but didn't say anything.

"My father still stubbornly believes that the rule of the nobility is based on authority and favors." His boots landed on a protruding stone. "He believes that as long as we are the masters of this land, the people on it must be loyal to us, but that will soon change."

"You mean... the change of prime minister?" Richard asked cautiously.

Godfrey nodded: "That old fool Disraeli expanded the voting rights to workers and tenants, thinking he had the game in the bag, but he ended up shooting himself in the foot."

Richard understood that he was referring to the Reform Act of 1867, a political gamble orchestrated by Disraeli, who believed that by giving the right to vote to the common people, they would be grateful and vote for their lords and the Conservative Party.

But he was very wrong; they voted for Gladstone, the one who promised them more rights.

The Conservative Party's defeat was inevitable from that moment on.

Richard thought for a moment, then asked, "Are you worried about votes, or your influence?"

Godfrey suddenly turned to look at Richard and then burst out laughing.

The answer is self-evident.

Gladstone's proposed land reforms, with their freer rental and sale, meant that nobles would lose control over tenant farmers.

The Morgan family, an old noble family that has stood in Wales for hundreds of years, will be tossed about and tilted by the wave of reform, and eventually slowly sink.

"Now, I'm telling you the truth." Godfrey stroked the black barrel of the gun. "You also need to give me a heads-up: what exactly do you want to do with my stones? It can't be to build a house, can it?"

Richard hesitated for a few seconds. He was now standing in front of Godfrey as an ordinary businessman, and he couldn't reveal his connection to the Liberal Party.

Because someone like Godfrey must be a loyal follower of Disraeli and a staunch supporter of the Conservative Party.

"I intend to use your stones to build the stove," Richard said.

"What kind of stove?" he pressed.

"Have you ever heard of the steelmaking furnace, the Charles Siemens technology, the regenerative open-hearth steelmaking furnace?"

"No, but Siemens..." Godfrey repeated the name, his brows furrowing slowly.

He began to carefully consider collaborating with Richard, because Siemens' involvement represented new technologies and processes, and more importantly, new wealth.

Gradually, Godfrey's gaze changed.

"I want to join," he said.

Richard paused, startled. "You want to join? Am I talking to you, or the entire Morgan family?"

Godfrey loosened his grip on the gun: "You're talking to me, a member of the House of Lords, and my brother—Frederic Morgan, the incoming Monmouth County councillor—about collaboration."

"So what do you want?" Richard asked hesitantly.

Godfrey leaned closer to him: "I'll give you mining rights in the Lanelli Mountains, in exchange for building a factory in Monmouth once your technology is ready."

Richard suddenly realized that Godfrey didn't want money or dividends; he wanted living space.

If the Morgan family were merely aristocrats with vast landholdings, they would simply be a piece of fat meat on the Liberal Party's table.

However, a steel mill located in Monmouthshire would provide local workers with stable, high-paying jobs.

The workers and tenants, those who had the right to vote, voted for the one who fed them.

Land reform prevented the Morgan family from controlling people by controlling land, but they could control factories. This was the first lesson the aristocracy learned in the new era.

Just as Richard was about to speak, Godfrey suddenly raised his hand.

"Don't move."

His gaze fell on the bushes to his left. He gripped the butt of his rifle, held his breath, and aimed...

boom!

Gunshots echoed across the mountain ridge.

A gray fox flew up from the bushes, somersaulted in the air, and then plummeted straight down, landing in the withered grass.

"Quickly! Let go of the reins!" Godfrey commanded urgently.

Richard quickly released his grip, and the Setter darted away like an arrow, its four legs barely touching the ground.

The dog quickly picked up the fox's leg, turned around and ran back, stopping in front of Godfrey.

Godfrey bent down, picked up the fox's tail, and flicked it twice in the air, causing drops of blood to splatter from the wound on its neck.

"Think it over carefully," Godfrey said. "I'll be waiting for your answer."