I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 225: Grevy’s Crushing Defeat

(The image below is a schematic diagram of the Lebel magazine, with bullets aligned end-to-end in the tubular magazine)

Shire then tried the rifle again. As a colonel, he would likely use a rifle on the battlefield, so he had to learn it.

He soon discovered that the Lebel rifle was also unfriendly to novices.

This thing used a tubular magazine.

Other rifles loaded their ammunition vertically into the magazine, but the Lebel rifle loaded them horizontally one after another. Although it seemed to have a large capacity, holding eight rounds, it affected the feel.

Because after each shot, the balance of the gun would change. Although it was very slight, every time it seemed as if he was holding a different rifle, which made Shire feel confused. He practiced for a while but couldn’t get the hang of it.

It was better if the rifle was mounted somewhere for shooting, but on the battlefield, you couldn’t always find a place to mount the gun.

Moreover, every time Shire pulled the trigger, he felt a bit anxious: the bullets in the magazine were aligned end-to-end. If a bullet jumped and hit the previous one during firing... Wouldn’t it misfire?

"That’s it for today." Shire complained, turning to thank Dominic, "Thank you, Instructor Dominic."

"You’re welcome, Colonel." Dominic answered with a smile, "I’m happy to help!"

He then added, "You should come back and practice again tomorrow, Colonel. We need to consolidate your skills."

"Alright," Shire waved his hand as he left.

After Shire left, Dominic pulled out his pistol and aimed at the target. He recalled the way Shire had just positioned himself, adjusted his stance.

"Bang bang, bang bang!"

"Bang bang!"

All six bullets accurately hit the bullseye.

"My God!" Dominic was both surprised and delighted, "What a great feeling, much faster than before!"

Dominic thought for a moment and then repeated the shooting stance, admiring it, "This pistol grip stance should be promoted throughout the military. It’s very useful!"

Suddenly, a round of applause came from nearby. Dominic turned towards the sound and saw that it was Grevy.

"Hello, Grevy." Dominic asked with a puzzled look, "What brings you here?"

"I’m just here to see an old friend. How’s everything, Dominic?" Grevy walked up casually.

"Of course," Dominic replied, "Nothing to complain about."

Grevy shook his head with a smile, "The second son of Saint-Etienne, willing to be a gun tester, and now you’ve become an instructor, and you’re even enjoying it!"

"What else then?" Dominic answered while loading bullets into his revolver, "Everyone has their own pursuits. Yours is politics. Mine is guns!"

Grevy raised his eyebrows, watching Dominic demonstrate the shooting stance again and again, as if worried he would forget it.

"Bang bang bang bang!"

"Bang bang!"

All six bullets hit the bullseye once again.

"Your marksmanship has improved!" Grevy said with some surprise in his eyes.

"No," Dominic replied excitedly, "It’s the shooting stance. It allows me to shoot faster and more stably."

"Oh, really?" Grevy complimented, "Did you invent it? Excellent!"

"Not me," Dominic smiled with a hint of embarrassment, "It was Shire. He invented this grip stance."

Then, talking to himself, Dominic continued, "Unbelievable, I’ve been practicing shooting since I was eleven, and never thought of changing the grip stance until now!"

Grevy’s expression changed, and his earlier jovial demeanor turned into silence.

Dominic looked at Grevy in confusion, "You don’t seem to like Shire very much, do you?"

Grevy smiled faintly. He knew Dominic’s habits; this guy cared little about anything other than practicing his shooting, so he didn’t know much about external affairs, nor did he understand the relationship between him and Shire.

Grevy didn’t answer. After a moment of silence, he asked abruptly, "Have you ever considered your future, Dominic?"

"What do you mean by that?" Dominic replied casually, still practicing his shooting stance, trying to find the optimal angle.

"The future of Saint-Etienne," Grevy’s tone softened, "And your own."

"These may not need too much of my consideration." Dominic reloaded his revolver and looked away to aim at an imaginary enemy.

"No," Grevy cooperatively stepped back a few steps to give him more space, "You may not know that your father is collaborating with Shire. He’s even following Shire’s arrangements, and they’re dividing the profits equally."

Dominic paused, turned to look at Grevy, his face gradually turning cold.

"I think you’ve noticed." Grevy raised his head slightly, "For example, the grenades, the mortars, and those small cannons, if this continues..."

"Is this your purpose for coming?" Dominic interrupted Grevy’s words, "To drive a wedge between Saint-Etienne and Shire? Or to make me dislike Shire?"

Grevy could no longer continue.

As an old friend, Grevy knew Dominic’s character. Although he wasn’t very smart, once he decided Shire was a "good person," he wouldn’t change his mind easily.

Grevy came a step too late.

"Pretend I didn’t say anything," Grevy spread his hands, finding an excuse for himself, "You will understand in the future..."

Without finishing his words, Dominic pulled the trigger towards the target.

"Bang bang bang!"

The bullets accurately hit the bullseye without exception.

"You’d better leave early, Grevy," Dominic warned expressionlessly, "Otherwise, next time it will be your turn."

Grevy raised his eyebrows, "Suit yourself!"

This was Grevy’s most painful defeat. When he was studying at "Henry IV," he had won Dominic’s trust through a series of means, becoming his "adviser."

Earlier, Grevy was confident he could persuade Dominic, not expecting this result.

"Bang bang bang!"

A few more gunshots sounded behind him, making Grevy flinch. He gritted his teeth and quickened his pace to leave.

Dominic looked at the target with a strange expression; a shot had missed the bullseye.

This was the result of his distraction, not because of Grevy.

A scene flashed through his mind, back at the officer’s club, when a young lieutenant bravely stopped a group of officers who were teasing him, "Enough, give him back the letter!"

"Instructor," a staff member ran up to Dominic, "Mr. Steed wants you to go to the Ritz Hotel!"

Dominic frowned and grunted, hoping it wasn’t some social event. His father knew well that he disliked such things!

(The image above is the "Henry IV" secondary and higher education school, a noble school founded in 1791)

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