Chapter 86: Everyone, Paris Is Safe! (5) "…A vehicle that gets power from steam and turns wheels…"
"What do you think, the two of you?"
"Though my knowledge is limited, the attempt itself looks flawless for now, sir."
Mr. Trevithick nodded and spoke in fluent English, unlike his earlier clumsy French.
"Thank you, Mr. Trevithick. Mr. Murdoch, what do you think?"
I turned my head toward Mr. Murdoch and asked.
Mr. Murdoch seemed to think deeply for a moment, then let out a long sigh and spoke.
"…May I speak frankly, sir?"
"Of course, Mr. Murdoch."
"Thank you. I'll speak frankly from two perspectives."
Seeing Mr. Murdoch hold up two fingers as he spoke, I nodded.
"First, I will speak as William Murdoch, chief engineer of James Watt's company. The expiration date of our company's steam engine patent is 1799. Of course, I also know that patent does not have legal effect in a foreign country like France, only in Britain.
"However, as someone affiliated with James Watt's company, I cannot help but consider the company's interests. Even if it is a foreign patent, if you, Mr. Guillaume, show that you respect it, I will gladly cooperate."
"…You mean you want a patent usage fee—royalties?"
"That is correct. In the first place, Mr. Trevithick and I were sent to France so that Mr. Watt could repay the debt he owes Dr. Lavoisier, were we not? With the development of the rotary printing press, I believe that debt has already been substantially reduced."
"Hmm."
At Mr. Murdoch's last words, I let out a low groan and leaned back in my chair.
Mr. Murdoch's argument truly had no obvious flaw.
If you were part of a company, it was only natural you should work for the benefit of where you belonged.
The problem was that this world was pure wilderness—there might be international law for war, but there was nothing for commerce and industry.
Even in the twenty-first century, the moment a company expanded overseas, it wasn't rare for someone to preemptively register that company's trademark and then sell it back. From bingsu companies to IT companies, it hit the news at least once a year—so how much worse would it be now?
"A foreigner's patent? Yeah, no idea. Why bring something that only works in your country into ours? If you're mad, register it here too!"
That mindset was the majority, so engineers, artists, and scientists all roamed the world looking for patrons.
Which meant I could use James Watt's company's steam engine patent however I wanted and no one could stop me—and Mr. Murdoch was digging into that point extremely well.
Hmm. One hundred out of ten.
If he were my subordinate, I'd throw him a gold coin as a bonus on the spot.
"…You said two perspectives. Could you tell me the other one as well?"
I asked Mr. Murdoch again.
"Understood. This time I will speak as William Murdoch the engineer."
Mr. Murdoch drew in a breath, let it out, then spoke again.
"To be honest, as an engineer, my blood is boiling to the point of excitement! A vehicle made by steam engine—one that carries not one or two people, but hundreds, thousands!"
The eyes of Mr. Murdoch, who until now had been shining with a salesman's sharp gaze, began burning as if lit on fire.
Were all the engineers of this era like this?
Lavoisier, Dr. Guillotin, and the Montgolfier brothers—when I introduced the rotary printing press, their eyes rolled back like that and they ground themselves down working.
"Think about it, sir! The sight of a steam engine powerfully cutting across the wide plains of France! Doesn't it excite you?!"
"…You look extremely excited."
He spoke so fast that I could hear the whoosh-whoosh sound of his nose as he rapidly breathed air in and out.
"Excited? Of course I am! Barely a hundred years ago, we engineers at most spent all day handling ashwood and our own hands. But now the world has changed. The future right before our eyes will soon be the age of steam.
"Steam vehicles will run across the whole world, and people will live convenient lives thanks to machines! Who knows? Maybe later, you'll be able to travel from Spain to that frozen Russia in just one month.
"What engineer could refuse the honorable chance to write his name on the first page of history as we enter that age of steam?!"
Mm.
In short, his will to do it overflowed beyond measure, but the company side was the problem.
Even in RPG games, when a new boss appears, the whole server gathers and people stay up all night to see who clears it first.
But this wasn't a game—it was a chance to engrave your name in a history book. Of course endorphins would explode and your eyes would roll back.
I let out a breath, then spoke to Mr. Murdoch in a calm tone.
"Hm. The royalty you mentioned earlier—what level are you thinking?"
"I'll have to contact the company back home for the details, but you can think of it as about three percent per unit."
"Three percent. Not bad. That's quite realistic."
"If you don't develop it, it's money we can't collect anyway."
Considering typical royalties were about five percent, on the surface it was a very good condition.
But most of the development money would be on me. Taking that into account, it was about average.
No—since James Watt's company would also provide development manpower, factoring that in, it might be slightly better than average for me.
Of course, to someone else it might look like burning money on something with an uncertain future, but to me—who knew that the steam locomotive would be born, railroads would be laid, stations would be built, and the world would develop in an instant—this was basically digging up a motherlode for a few coins.
"The royalty—when the patent expires, the obligation to pay disappears, correct?"
"Of course. The patent expires; we're not bandits who'd take royalties after that."
Mr. Murdoch nodded as he answered.
"Good. Ears of the Nation will pay your company a three percent royalty per steam locomotive, and in return we will receive the help of Mr. William Murdoch and Mr. Richard Trevithick."
"Thank you, sir!"
Mr. Murdoch and I smiled and clasped hands, shaking vigorously.
"…This is Paris? How is a place where people live this huge?"
At the sight he'd never seen in his life, Noel's eyes went wide.
The Paris scene—people and carriages on a scale he'd never seen in Saint-Quentin, tangled and moving in complexity—made a country bumpkin gape.
"Haha, you're a real bumpkin, aren't you? Paris has as many as seven hundred thousand people living here. Seven hundred thousand!"
At Noel's voice, the coachman on the driver's seat snapped the reins hard once more and laughed loudly as if amused.
"S-se-seven hundred thousand??"
"Haha, I told you!"
Seven hundred thousand! Wasn't Saint-Quentin a fairly big city in France?
Yet Paris was more than five times the size of Saint-Quentin.
At the size of the giant city made by sheer human effort, Noel could only marvel.
Then Noel saw people along the roadside hacking up the sidewalk with pickaxes, overturning it, and busily building something.
"Coachman, what are those people doing?"
"Oh, that? The Controller-General of Finance is having people do work, saying he's laying new water and sewer lines and all that. Thanks to that, people's pockets have gotten a bit fuller lately. Though for us coachmen, even so, it doesn't mean more passengers, so…"
"…I see."
At the coachman's answer, spoken as if it were a pity, Noel gave a small response.
"Hey, do you like magazines? From the way you talk, you seem like a man who can read pretty well."
"I do like magazines."
"Right? I could tell at a glance! Now then, which'll it be—Forbes or Maxim?"
In a tone that seemed somewhat vulgar but could also be called petty-commoner-like, the coachman spoke while looking at Noel in the back seat.
"Give me Forbes."
"Here you go! I usually take five sous, but you're a bumpkin who came up from the provinces, so I'll take just three sous."
Noel gave a small laugh, took the magazine the coachman handed him, and passed over a three-sou coin.
"…Paris is pretty livable these days. How are the provinces?"
After they followed the road for a while, the coachman spoke as if he felt lonely when Noel in the back seat grew quiet reading.
"…The provinces? Well."
"Here in Paris, there's General Lafayette, and the Controller-General of Finance has his eyes wide open, so it's like things are slowly going back to how they used to be, they say. Ah—by 'the old days,' I don't mean when people starved to death. I mean it's gotten peaceful. Don't misunderstand."
"The provinces… hmm. The wicked lords and priests—around this time last year they got beaten and all went to the other world. Now the civil engineering officials are working hard and distributing land."
Noel gave a small laugh, remembering how until recently he had been one of them, busy without a moment to spare.
After chattering again for a long while, the coachman stopped the carriage in front of Noel's destination, turned around, and said,
"Alright, we're here. Passenger. Watch your step getting off, and use me again later."
Noel opened the rear door, got out, hoisted the baggage bundle he'd brought from his hometown out of the luggage compartment, and quietly looked up at the wooden signboard before him.
[Ears of the Nation, Main Branch]
Noel lowered his gaze and looked again at the words written on the back of the magazine he'd just bought from the coachman.
[We are seeking people to become family with our Ears of the Nation—skilled in various office assistance, accounting, and taxation. —Ears of the Nation—]
"Even though I… came all this way, it feels hopeless."
What if they'd already hired everyone and coldly threw him out?
A small anxiety began to well up in Noel's heart.
"Well, it's not like I can do anything now."
Noel reached out his hand to grasp the doorknob leading into the building.
At that moment.
Noel's hand touched someone else's hand reaching for the doorknob at the same time.
It was a youth with dark brown hair who looked five or six years—no, ten years—younger than Noel, reaching out his hand the same way.
The dark-haired youth said something to Noel.
"E, Entschuldigung!"
"…German?"
Why was a German in France—no, in Paris of all places?
Unlike Noel, who stared blankly at the German youth, the German—eyes anxious—hurriedly opened the door and went into the Ears of the Nation office.
"N-now's not the time!"
Noel also snapped back to his senses and had no choice but to follow after him.
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