The Deal

Kuan Kim-pan's question left Ambrosius at a loss for words.

The Chenla people used old-fashioned sixteenth-century matchlocks, the kind once designed by the Portuguese.

The major powers of Europe had now phased out matchlocks. Even flintlocks were being replaced by more advanced percussion-cap guns, commonly known as caplock firearms.

Even in a backward country like Russia, matchlocks had already been phased out.

By now, only the small states in Italy and Germany were probably still using them.

In truth, given Ambrosius's limited knowledge, he believed matchlocks had long since disappeared from the battlefield.

In reality, matchlocks remained extremely common throughout Italy, except in Northern Italy, which was controlled by Austria.

In the Spanish Civil War of the same period, both sides still fielded large numbers of matchlocks.

And in the even more backward Balkans, soldiers without matchlocks had no choice but to arm themselves with bows, spears, and other cold weapons.

He picked up his rifle and moved back to a distance of one hundred and fifty paces.

"Bang!"

At the sound of the shot, a watermelon burst apart.

Cleaning, reloading, priming, and loading the powder—Ambrosius was clearly far more practiced at it than the Chenla Imperial Guards.

After all, in the Austrian Empire, a man of his standing could practice shooting whenever he pleased.

It took about half a minute for his second bullet to shatter another watermelon, one hundred and fifty paces away.

Ambrosius had practiced a great deal, but he was no professional marksman. Still, he thought this distance would be enough to awe the arrogant Chenla men before him.

In fact, Ambrosius had an advantage: he was using a rifled gun. It loaded more slowly, but its accuracy far surpassed that of a smoothbore.

By now, Hong Buf was staring in astonishment, his mouth agape. One hundred and fifty paces was three times the firing distance of the Chenla Imperial Guards just moments ago.

Even the best musketeers among the Chenla Imperial Guards could not hit the mark twice at that range.

But neither Hong Buf nor Kuan Kim-pan realized that the difference lay in the weapons. They immediately showered him with praise.

"Marvelous! Truly marvelous! What a magnificent display, Lord Ambrosius! You have opened our eyes."

Ambrosius couldn't understand much of what they were saying, but he could tell they were pleased with his demonstration.

And so Ambrosius came up with a new idea: he could sell these men the flintlocks that the Austrian Empire's army had phased out.

"Exactly. This is the latest product from our Austrian Empire. With guns like these, you can do the same. We're willing to trade with you. We have more than just guns—we have cannons, and..."

Before Ambrosius could finish, Kuan Kim-pan cut him off.

"Wait. Are you saying it's only your firearms that are impressive? I don't believe it. Does your Austrian Empire really have no one who can shoot better than you?"

"Of course we do. Captain Bilafon, show him."

Captain Bilafon came from the Jägers. The 1st Tyrol Jäger Battalion he belonged to was Austria's most formidable unit.

Bilafon, born to a common family, must have had exceptional abilities to rise to the rank of officer.

Shooting was one of his specialties. He took the rifle from Ambrosius and inspected it.

First, he fired from where he stood and hit a watermelon. Then he walked fifty paces back and hit another with his second shot. He moved back another fifty paces, then another fifty.

Four shots, four hits. At a maximum distance of three hundred paces, the feat left Hong Buf unable to believe his eyes. A man with a military background himself, he understood just how formidable this was.

If all his guards possessed such skill, then with five thousand rifles at their side, what would they have to fear from an invasion of a hundred thousand Vietnamese soldiers?

Kuan Kim-pan could tell from Hong Buf's expression how vital these firearms were to the Imperial Guards.

"How much silver for a gun like that?"

"Fifty taels." Ambrosius had arrived at what he considered a reasonable price based on his intelligence.

But he had forgotten the unwritten rule of the Eastern marketplace: start with an outrageous price and haggle down.

"Twenty taels," Kuan Kim-pan replied without batting an eye.

But he knew he was getting a bargain.

The Great Qing sold matchlocks to the Vietnamese for thirty taels, while the French had once sold them for twenty-five.

The gunsmiths of Chenla had long since been requisitioned by the Vietnamese.

Now Chenla could only buy firearms from the Vietnamese at a high price, and the Vietnamese charged the Chenla army exactly fifty taels per gun.

This young man seems to know nothing about business. I should be able to get them for twenty-five taels, Kuan Kim-pan thought, his face brightening with delight.

Ambrosius realized his mistake: he shouldn't have revealed his bottom line.

Father Pacini had already learned the price the Vietnamese charged the Chenla army for firearms through the local secret Catholic Church network and had informed Ambrosius.

Ambrosius had simply naively assumed that if he named a reasonable price, the other party would immediately agree to the deal.

It looked like he would have to give up some of his profits. He would have to make it up somewhere else.

"No. Twenty taels is too little. Fifty taels is our bottom line. Our goods have to travel more than twenty thousand kilometers to reach you."

"Then twenty-five taels. Not a coin more." Kuan Kim-pan put on a pained expression, as if he were cutting off a piece of his own flesh.

"Forty taels, and you let us establish a supply depot at Kompong Som Bay." Ambrosius took the opportunity to state his terms, leaving Kuan Kim-pan room to negotiate.

"Twenty-five taels. Not only can I help you establish a supply depot by the sea, I can also arrange for you to meet a member of the royal family," Kuan Kim-pan said.

"His Majesty Ang Chan?" Ambrosius asked.

"No. Her Highness, the Princess of Chenla," Kuan Kim-pan replied. He had to close this deal.

Vietnamese rule was tightening its grip, step by step. If things continued this way, Vietnam would eventually swallow Chenla.

And as a great Chenla noble, he was bound to be among the Vietnamese' first targets for extermination.

Even if he surrendered, the Vietnamese might not spare him.

The Vietnamese policy of population reduction made it plain that they wanted Chenla to vanish from the earth entirely.

The Siamese were no more trustworthy than the Vietnamese. Both were tigers and wolves.

Kuan Kim-pan was one of Chenla's great clan leaders. His family numbered over a thousand. Even if he could escape, his family could not.

Rather than be a lamb led to slaughter, he would rather fight with everything he had.

To Kuan Kim-pan, Ambrosius and his weapons had arrived like a lifeline.

Most of Chenla's great clans shared his thinking. They secretly joined forces, made contact with the rebel army, and quietly built up their strength.

That was also why, historically, the large-scale anti-Vietnamese uprising in Chenla was able to continue after Emperor Minh Mang of Vietnam executed Ang Chan's entire family.

"Thirty taels." Ambrosius had already achieved both goals of his trip. Now he only hoped he could earn a little more for Austria.

"Deal."