Chapter 725: Imaginary Enemies
"My deepest apologies! Truly, I am very sorry!" Miyamoto Akira bowed repeatedly like a machine, head bobbing like a piston. "Please forgive us, Mr. Charles. We will absolutely provide you with a design that satisfies your requirements!"
Charles pretended to be unaware of anything out of the ordinary.
"If you lack cutting-edge technology," he said coldly, "then at the very least, your ships should have a higher displacement."
"We designed these 2,000-ton destroyers not because we couldn't build something bigger, but because wartime resource constraints made it necessary."
"Yes, yes, of course!" Miyamoto nodded vigorously.
He wouldn't dare question France's shipbuilding capabilities.
Even though France's navy ranked behind Nihon's at the moment, Charles's victory in the North Sea had already cast doubt on the validity of those rankings.
Charles leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out, arms on the armrests like a king receiving a servant. His posture was proud and commanding as he addressed Miyamoto, who was still hunched in a subservient bow.
"And the speed—shouldn't it match our new destroyers?" Charles asked.
"You realize, don't you, that if the speed doesn't match, these ships are worthless to us?"
"Of course, absolutely!" Miyamoto said.
Charles continued:
"Preferably, they should use dual-fuel boilers—coal and oil."
"We're in wartime. On the battlefield, resources are often scarce. We never know what kind of fuel we'll be short on."
"This directly affects whether a warship can sail at a critical moment. I trust you understand how important that is?"
At the time, warships were transitioning from coal to oil. Dual-fuel boilers allowed for flexibility and were considered a fairly advanced configuration.
When Miyamoto heard this, his heart skipped a beat.
That was precisely the design of the Tenryū-class light cruiser, which Nihon had just finished designing and was about to begin building.
So Charles had guessed it—just like that.
Of course—this was Charles.
He always saw further than others.
He'd nailed it in one sentence. And for Miyamoto, it was thrilling.
It also confirmed something important: their Tenryū design was valid.
Even Charles acknowledged it.
And back in Nihon, plenty of critics were still debating it!
Perhaps it was because he now felt that the Tenryū matched Charles's expectations that Miyamoto began to relax.
"Mr. Charles," he said, raising his head slightly, eyes glowing with enthusiasm. "We may have a design that matches these requirements. However, I must first receive authorization from my superiors. Would that be acceptable?"
"Of course," Charles said, nodding—though his tone carried a hint of impatience. "But you'd better hurry, Mr. Miyamoto. We don't have time to waste. And that includes my time."
"Yes! Of course!" Miyamoto bowed like he had been pardoned by an emperor. Still hunched, he backed toward the door, bowing again at the threshold before finally exiting.
Once Charles was alone in the meeting room, he allowed himself to relax and dropped the act.
Playing this kind of "overbearing patron" was exhausting—even for him.
Still, he found it almost amusing how easily Nihon fell into this routine.
Was it their desire to join the ranks of Western civilizations?
Their need to show loyalty to power?
Or their hunger to learn and exchange with the best?
The last one actually worried him—because Nihon had terrifying learning speed.
Since the Meiji Restoration in 1868, they had catapulted themselves into becoming the world's fourth-ranked navy in just a few decades.
But on further reflection, Charles didn't feel too threatened.
Why?
Because China's navy was essentially nonexistent.
All it could do was scuttle ships in rivers to block Nihon's advance.
So in that context, Nihon's strength—or lack thereof—was largely irrelevant to China.
Instead, Nihon's future naval battles would likely be with the United States in the Pacific.
And the U.S.? Their advantage was industrial might—production power so overwhelming that no number of clever tactics or isolated technological advances could offset it.
Just as Charles was lost in thought, Miyamoto returned, his expression alight with excitement.
"Wonderful news, Mr. Charles! We do have a design, and it matches your specifications almost perfectly!"
Charles acted indifferent, sipping his coffee. "Oh? A new design?"
"You do understand that new designs are often untested," he added lazily.
"What I need is a ship that can enter combat immediately. Can I really trust your design and construction quality?"
Miyamoto smiled nervously and offered up the proposal with both hands. "Of course. We'll also provide ongoing upgrades and modifications until your navy is fully satisfied."
Charles wore the same arrogant expression as he took the file and flipped through it casually.
It was indeed the Tenryū-class light cruiser, down to the caliber of its main guns and armor thickness.
Miyamoto leaned in slightly and explained enthusiastically:
"This cruiser's upper deck weaponry is designed for superiority over enemy destroyers. Against larger ships like battleships, we switch to torpedo attacks."
"Since no armor can fully resist a torpedo strike, our ship is instead built with a dual-layer high-tensile steel belt, forming a hollow buffer zone that reduces weight while still resisting impacts from 100mm-caliber naval guns."
Charles gave a noncommittal grunt, then frowned.
"Mr. Miyamoto," he said, "you do realize most destroyers now have guns over 100mm?"
"For example, the British Medea-class has 4-inch guns—that's 102mm."
"So you're saying you've designed armor that's just weak enough to be penetrated?"
He was picking apart the design.
But reaching a point of "just penetrable" meant the armor was already quite good. In real combat, unless a shot struck head-on, it would usually be deflected. So overall, the protection level was solid.
Adding thicker armor would reduce speed—an unacceptable trade-off for a ship meant to lead fast squadrons.
Miyamoto wiped his brow nervously. After a hasty apology, he whispered, "Mr. Charles, our design is aimed primarily at Germany. Their V25-class destroyers are armed with 88mm cannons."
(Image above: German V25-class destroyer, officially classified as a torpedo boat. Displacement: 812 tons. Armament: three 88mm guns. Powered by oil fuel.)
Charles glanced at him meaningfully.
Miyamoto instantly caught on and bowed again. "I understand, I understand. Don't worry, Mr. Charles—I didn't hear a thing."
As he said it, he felt an odd surge of pride.
Of course—this was Charles.
His imaginary enemy wasn't the German Navy anymore.
It was the British Royal Navy, the world's number one fleet.
Trying to befriend a man like that was absolutely the right choice.
Finally, Charles dropped the design folder on the table and asked calmly, "So, Mr. Miyamoto—how much for a ship like this?"
Miyamoto didn't hesitate. "1.8 million U.S. dollars per ship."
Charles blinked, shocked.
That price was staggeringly low.
France's own 2,000-ton destroyers cost about 1.5 million each. Charles had expected that a 3,250-ton light cruiser like the Tenryū would cost well over 2 million.
But Miyamoto had only asked for 1.8 million?
Worried that Charles wasn't satisfied, Miyamoto quickly added, "If that's too high, sir, we can negotiate further..."
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