Creating an Industrial Empire in 19th Century Parallel World



Seven days had passed since Poul's departure from the shores of the British Empire, and now, as he stepped foot on the hallowed grounds of the Port of New York, a wave of emotions washed over him. The familiar hustle and bustle of the city, the vibrant energy in the air, and the old buildings embraced him like a long-lost friend. It was a feeling of belonging, a sense of homecoming that wrapped around him, easing the weariness of his journey.

"Poul!" He heard someone calling from afar, Poul's gaze flickered at the source of the voice and there he saw a familiar figure. It was Jonathan and Morgan, waving their hands and tipping their hats.

Poul tipped his hat and waved his hands in return before walking towards them. 

"Poul!" Jonathan exclaimed. "It's good to have you back buddy," he embraced.

Poul wrapped his arms around Jonathan, feeling a surge of gratitude for their unwavering friendship. "Thank you, my friend," Poul replied, his voice tinged with genuine appreciation. "It's been too long, and I've missed you both."

Morgan, always the reserved one, nodded warmly and extended his hand toward Poul. "Welcome back, Poul. We've been eagerly awaiting your return," he said, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "You have a lot of work to do as we have made a lot of deals with the President to get you out."

"Yeah, I have heard. So you are developing a lot of weapons now eh?" Poul asked. 

"That's right, the United States wanted thousands of them to be made within the end of the year. We literally have a lot of things to do, we also have to deal with the upcoming bid for the World's Fair in Ohio."

"How is the reception of the public?" Poul asked if he'd been wanting to know the reaction of the public about the scandal that he was involved with.

"Well, there are mixed reactions, some hated your guts while others didn't simply care at all. But you are hailed as one of the geniuses in the United States and they considered you more important than the Princess of the British Empire so you are pretty much in a go."

"Is that so?" Poul chuckled. "That's good, I was considering stepping down as the CEO of the company to save face if the reaction were hostile…" 

"Oh don't overreact Poul," Jonathan patted him on the back and reassured him with a friendly smile. "You're far too valuable to this company and our partnership. Besides, we've weathered storms before, and this will be no different. The world can be fickle, but true talent and ingenuity will always shine through, especially in this era." 

"So, our team in Paris, are they returning?" 

"They'll return tomorrow, along with Sara, Caroline, Amelia, and the engineers that were brought along," Jonathan answered. 

"What about the reaction of the British Empire? Did they say something about me returning to the country?" 

"They are pissed," Morgan interjected. "I got a call from the President, telling me the story of the Crown Prince barging into the office of Mr. Smith in his Embassy. It can be inferred from that that they are involved with your assassination. Also, even though you got free from their reigns, they declared you persona non grata. Our branches there, specifically the air brakes, were boycotted, and the workers faced harassment from the locals. We had no choice but to close our air brake branch there." 

"We should also stop supplying them with AN-M1 rifles right?" Jonathan suggested.

"Well, I don't think they are going to like that," Morgan replied. "They may hate you Poul but the weapons you are making are highly sought after. The British Empire relies on our technology for their military forces. Cutting off the supply would definitely make a statement, but it might also escalate tensions." 

"So civilian products are boycotted but the military isn't? That sounded like every politician would do," Poul chuckled. "Well, even if the case is solved for us I still have to issue a statement. I can't simply return to work as if nothing happened, you know that Morgan." 

"Yup, tomorrow, when your executive secretary arrives, you will be addressing the New York Times and other major news agencies," Morgan confirmed. "For now, let's celebrate your return. I just know a good bar in New York." 

Morgan led them to a cozy tavern nestled within a historic brownstone, its dimly lit interior reminiscent of an era gone by. They found a quiet corner table, surrounded by walls adorned with vintage photographs and antique memorabilia. 

"Drinks on me. Order as many as you want, don't worry about the cost," Morgan said. 

"Thank you, Morgan," Poul replied with a chuckle, settling into the comfortable seat. "But let's not go overboard. A round of drinks to celebrate is more than enough."

Jonathan nodded in agreement, glancing around the tavern with curiosity. They started ordering their own drinks and drank them the moment they arrived at their table. As they drank their drinks they chatted, discussing business and sharing stories. 

It kept like that for three hours, and Poul is now wasted, his speech becoming slurred and his movements unsteady. The effects of the alcohol had caught up with him, and he found it increasingly difficult to maintain his composure. His friends exchanged concerned glances, realizing that Poul had reached his limit.

Jonathan leaned in closer, his voice filled with worry.

  "Poul, my friend, I think it's time we call it a night. You've had enough to drink, and it's clear that you're too intoxicated to continue."

Poul let out a boisterous laugh, swaying in his seat as he struggled to focus his gaze on Jonathan.

  "Nonsense! I'm just getting started! The night is young, my friends!"

"Oh this is going to be hard," Jonathan said. "Well Mr. Morgan, I'll leave Poul under your watch as I call a carriage outside." 

Jonathan rose from his seat, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. He knew that dealing with an intoxicated Poul could be quite a challenge, but he also trusted Morgan's ability to handle the situation.

Morgan nodded, acknowledging Jonathan's decision.

Understood, Jonathan. I'll take care of him.

Jonathan made his way to the entrance of the tavern, where he hailed a passing carriage. Meanwhile, Morgan flagged down the bartender and settled their bill, ensuring that everything was taken care of before assisting Poul.

ƥαṇdα-ηθνε|·ƈθm With a steady hand, Morgan helped Poul out of his seat and onto his feet. Poul swayed unsteadily, his vision blurry, but he managed to lean on Morgan for support. Together, they made their way towards the exit, the dimly lit tavern becoming a blur of sights and sounds.

The cool night air hit Poul's face, momentarily clearing his mind as he stumbled alongside Morgan. The world around him seemed to sway and spin, making each step a challenging endeavor. Morgan guided Poul's unsteady movements, carefully leading him toward the waiting carriage.

Jonathan held open the carriage door, his patience evident as he watched his friends' slow progress. Morgan gently guided Poul inside, ensuring that he was settled comfortably on the seat. As Jonathan closed the door, Poul's gaze wandered aimlessly, a dazed smile playing on his lips.

"Thank you, my friends! I owe you guys a big one!" Poul mumbled, his words slurred. He tried to reach out to pat Jonathan's shoulder, but his hand missed its mark and landed on his own thigh instead. 

The three friends shared a chuckle at Poul's drunken antics, their bond, and camaraderie unshaken by the evening's events.

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