The morning sun bathed the station in golden light as Fornos boarded the train, a massive golem engine known as the Iron Serpent. Its hulking form, plated in steel and adorned with engraved sigils, hissed and creaked as passengers settled into their seats. Fornos chose a quiet compartment near the back, setting his leather-bound case on the seat beside him. Brassheart stood in the aisle, its gleaming brass frame catching stray beams of light through the window.
With a lurch, the train began its journey from Garg to Vardan, the rhythmic clanking of gears and the low hum of the golem core resonating through the carriage. Fornos relaxed, pulling out his notebook and reviewing his plans. The next few days would be crucial—cutting ties with unprofitable investments while securing a reliable jewel supplier.
His first two days had been consumed with gathering documents, cross-referencing reports, and preparing exit strategies. Now, he just needed to execute his plans with the same precision that had earned him his reputation within the company.
The journey to Vardan took half a day, the landscape outside shifting from the bustling trade hubs of Garg to the more modest, craft-focused city of Vardan. When the train finally hissed to a stop, Fornos gathered his belongings, signaling Brassheart to follow.
Vardan's streets bustled with activity. Jewel craftsmen displayed their wares in small stalls, gemstones glittering under the sunlight. Fornos made his way to the workshop of Jorun Baste, a reputable jewel maker who had caught his interest due to consistent quality and modest pricing.
As he approached, he noticed Jorun in a heated argument with another merchant. The older man's face was flushed, his hands gripping a rough cloth sack filled with uncut gems. The merchant was shouting, accusing Jorun of price fixing.
Fornos stepped forward, his presence quiet but commanding. "Is there a problem here?"
Jorun looked over, relief washing over his features. "Ah, Master Dag! Just dealing with a… disagreement."
The merchant huffed. "This man's raising prices because of increased demand. It's extortion!"
Fornos turned his calm gaze toward the merchant. "The market dictates value. If the demand rises, so does the price. Unless you can produce an equal quantity of gems yourself, I'd suggest accepting the terms or looking elsewhere."
The merchant mumbled something unintelligible before storming off. Jorun gave a tired smile. "Thanks for stepping in."
"Not at all. I prefer business partners who understand how value works." Fornos gestured toward the workshop door. "Shall we discuss the deal?"
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of polished stone and molten metal. Fornos laid out the contract, going through each clause with precision. Jorun nodded along, though his expression grew more uncertain as they reached the terms of exclusivity.
"I'm grateful for your support," Jorun began cautiously, "but cutting off all other merchants—"
"It's not cutting them off," Fornos interjected smoothly. "It's securing your future. The demand for jewels will only increase, and having a stable, wealthy client means no risk of losing income if smaller merchants fail to meet your price. In return, we'll handle distribution, saving you time and effort."
Jorun hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. I'll sign."
Once the deal was sealed, Fornos allowed himself a rare, satisfied smile. One task down.
The next part of his journey was less pleasant—cutting off the money-sucking investments. He moved from city to city, tracking down each golem project his family had invested in. Most were housed in cramped workshops, promising breakthroughs that never materialized.
One such place, the Steelbound Innovators, boasted a prototype that looked like a mishmash of parts held together by sheer desperation. The chief engineer, a wiry man named Nels, greeted Fornos with false enthusiasm.
"Master Dag! You're just in time to see our latest innovation!" Nels gestured to the wobbling golem, which promptly collapsed as its core sputtered.
Fornos barely suppressed a sigh. "Your progress report last month indicated a successful prototype. This… does not match the description."
Nels paled. "We've hit a few snags, but—"
"I'm here to terminate our agreement," Fornos interrupted, pulling out the contract. Nels' protests grew frantic as he flipped to a marked clause.
"But you can't! We—we've put everything into this!"
Fornos didn't flinch. "Clause fourteen. In the event of a substantial delay exceeding three months without demonstrable progress, the investor reserves the right to withdraw. You signed it."
Nels' shoulders slumped. "But… our dream—"
"Dreams don't pay dividends," Fornos replied coldly, handing over the termination notice. Brassheart stepped forward, towering over Nels as a silent reminder of authority. With the papers signed, Fornos moved on without a backward glance.
Other workshops varied in their responses—some screamed, some pleaded, but most fell silent when Fornos presented the hidden clauses he and his father had inserted. Each contract had been crafted with a precision that allowed no room for loopholes. Even the most stubborn business owners couldn't dispute the terms.
One engineer tried to argue, his face red with anger. "You snakes! You trapped us!"
Fornos remained impassive. "You agreed to the terms because you needed funding. If you'd made progress as promised, we wouldn't be here. Accept responsibility for your own failures."
The man could only glare as Fornos walked away, Brassheart trailing behind like a sentinel.
As the sun dipped below the horizon on his fifth day of travel, Fornos took a moment to reflect. Despite the grumbling and bitterness of those left behind, he knew he had made the right decisions. Dag & Co. couldn't afford to waste resources on empty promises.
Later, back on the train, he flipped through the finalized contracts. He had secured a reliable jewel supplier and eliminated five failing investments. Efficiency was key, and he had accomplished his tasks with minimal loss.
Yet, despite his success, Fornos couldn't shake the feeling that he was still being held back. His father's cautious approach was prudent, but it lacked the ambition Fornos craved. He wanted to push forward, not just maintain stability.
Staring out at the darkened landscape rushing by, he made a silent vow. One day, he would prove that his way—the relentless pursuit of power and influence—was the right one. His family's name would be synonymous with both wealth and dominance.
When the train finally pulled into the station at Garg, Fornos disembarked, his mind already racing with ideas. This was just the beginning, and he knew that to truly rise, he needed more than just business acumen. He needed to understand the game nobles played—the power games that shaped the world.
And Fornos Dag never intended to play by anyone else's rules.