Bastion Fort

Kowalczyk exchanged glances with the other committee members, swallowed, and still hesitated greatly.

"Mr. Schumann, even if the sailors and workers are willing to defend Danzig, we don't have enough weapons."

Schumann smiled faintly. "Actually, as you know, I do a little business that isn't entirely aboveboard. Please don't report me.

"The Fat Firth docked in the port is my ship. It's carrying weapons intended for the Middle East. If necessary, my Persian buyers can wait a little longer."

Kowalczyk's eyes widened. "Th-this is such a coincidence! Ah, could you tell me how much 'cargo' is aboard?"

"Three thousand five hundred Flintlock Guns, along with enough Ammunition to last four months."

Naturally, this was no Merchant ship headed for Persia. It had been prepared by Joseph for Danzig long ago and had remained anchored outside the port.

"God! Thank You for taking pity on Danzig!" The terror finally faded from Kowalczyk's face.

As a Pole and an investor in the port, he certainly did not want this place to fall into foreign hands.

Previously, he had lacked the strength to resist and could only choose surrender. But now, he saw hope.

Romilyov, too, looked at Schumann with immense surprise and excitement.

He had originally intended to lead his own four hundred Patrol Guards in a desperate defense of the port. He had never expected the Frenchman to bring so many "surprises."

Then he remembered something else. "Mr. Schumann, we also need some cannon. If you have any..."

"I don't have cannon."

Seeing the disappointment on everyone's faces, Schumann immediately added, "But have you forgotten? There are quite a few armed merchant ships here. We can remove the cannon from those ships and use them."

Romilyov frowned. "The shipowners will most likely be unwilling to lend them to us..."

Schumann looked