The goods Lynch brought from the Federation hadn’t all been sold, but more than half had been, delivering a heavy blow to those in the Joint Developnt Company who were waiting to see him fail.
Why couldn’t they understand? Did they really think the natives in Nagaryll were all fools?
Soon, their dissatisfaction and doubt turned into motivation.
A flood of orders from Nagaryll flowed back to the Federation, giving a strong boost to dostic employnt and reinforcing the belief that Nagaryll was the Federation’s ultimate way forward.
At this point, on the last day of the final week of January, the Joint Developnt Company’s board eting was scheduled.
The eting was held aboard a luxury cruise ship in the Allian Ocean, which the company had booked for three months.
The first week was reserved for etings and socializing. For the rest of the nearly three-month voyage, the ship would circle Allia before docking at a port in the Federation.
This was also a perk the company provided for so outstanding employees—not for them directly, but for their families. No boss would allow a key employee to be absent for three months. Only truly exceptional staff qualified for such a reward.
The lavish cruise beca a strong motivator. A ticket alone cost around 2,000 Sol, and now the company was handing them out for free to employee families—envy-inducing, to say the least.
As a board mber, Lynch was invited to attend the company’s first quarterly eting of the year.
While these etings occurred quarterly, most board mbers would later send proxies or representatives. Only a few would attend in person, contacting the actual board mbers when necessary decisions had to be made.
But this being the first full-scale eting after business had properly launched, nearly all shareholders ca in person.
“Mr. Lynch…” As Lynch stepped out of his cabin onto the third-deck, taking a glass of wine from a server’s tray, soone called out to him.
He turned and smiled, setting the glass back down and extending his hand.
“Mr. Patric!”
Mr. Patric looked like he had stepped out of the 1400s, with a stiff expression carved into his face. When he smiled, it was unnatural—more comfortable when he wasn’t.
He had just co out from inside the ship and spotted Lynch, calling him over.
Their greeting caught the attention of others on the deck. Many sought eye contact with Lynch or Mr. Patric.
So failed—though you couldn’t tell from the surface—while others succeeded, exchanging nods or raising their glasses in acknowledgnt.
Lynch let go of Patric’s hand. They each took a drink from the tray and moved away from the crowd for a more private conversation.
“I heard about what you’ve done—bold and effective. You’ve released a lot of pressure from the dostic economy. Truly impressive.”
He was referring to Lynch’s product dumping in Nagaryll. In this age, especially in the Federation, nothing escaped the notice of capitalists—not even Congress, and certainly not Lynch, who hadn’t even tried to hide it.
Soon, detailed reports surfaced—possibly more detailed than even Lynch knew—listing his achievents in these trades.
Ignoring the fact that he’d acquired factories and raw materials for virtually nothing, just counting production, with market-rate materials, wages, and overhead, each cast iron pot cost about 10 to 11 Sol to make.
With continued production, labor costs would be spread over more units, bringing the per-unit cost down to about 9 Sol.
Shipping each pot cost 3 to 4 Sol. Adding local labor and storage in Nagaryll, the total cost per pot ca to about 15 Sol.
But that wasn’t the final number. The federal governnt subsidized products that created jobs—based on the number of workers Lynch employed—and gave him tax exemptions, effectively reducing the real cost per pot to around 11 or 12 Sol. ṛàƝƟ𝖇Ɛ𝘴
These pots were then sold for 28 Sol each—during a ti when others couldn’t even move their goods.
It was nothing short of a comrcial miracle, a textbook case of identifying opportunity, triggering demand, and profiting from it. Many praised Lynch’s business savvy and the changes he had brought.
So of the products were practically free—picked from warehouses of recently acquired factories. With subsidies and tax breaks covering even shipping, every Sol earned was pure profit.
Still, this couldn’t be publicly emphasized. Lynch was seen as a socially responsible young leader.
dia coverage emphasized his contributions to society: reviving struggling dostic factories, improving local conditions, and creating not just economic gains but political and social value.
So Mr. Patric praised him generously. Talents like Lynch were rare—especially compared to those kids who woke up and fell asleep on won’s bellies. Lynch was the kind of man that inspired envy.
To Mr. Patric, Lynch felt more like a peer than a younger man. That’s why they could talk like this.
“I heard you have more plans coming?” Mr. Patric asked, hoping to get so inside information before the eting.
Lynch nodded. “Next month, or the one after, I’ll be heading to Gephra. I’ve been added to the diplomatic delegation. I’ll be there for a while.”
“During that ti, we’ll try to convince the Emperor of Gephra to let us participate in the developnt and postwar reconstruction of the Allia region. You know—that’s big money.”
Mr. Patric nodded repeatedly, sipping his wine. “Yes, yes. Big money. We all know, since Gephra’s footing the bill!”
They shared a knowing smile. This kind of implicit understanding only existed among top-tier individuals like them.
They had a clear grasp of society’s structure, its developnt, and potential outcos. A few hints were all it took to understand the full picture.
The Emperor of Gephra’s military defeat by the Federation was already a major blow. Despite the apparent calm, his grip on the throne was no longer secure.
His dostic authority had been shaken. In monarchies, authority is the foundation of power. Losing it in one area ant he had to compensate elsewhere.
So, he would likely tolerate the Federation’s overreach in Allia—on one condition: the Federation had to provide effective solutions for the region’s problems.
If they t that requirent, the Emperor would gladly show off Gephra’s wealth and generosity. Militarily defeated, but still having Federation people work for him—another kind of victory.
He might even openly declare this perspective. If the deal went through, Allia could see wealth beyond imagination.
“So, what’s your plan?” Mr. Patric asked, intrigued. His business was primarily in mining, but he was open to expansion.
Mining materials, tals, even slting waste could be used in construction—more ways to profit.
“Postwar reconstruction needs people. Lots of workers. I can’t afford to hire Federation workers, but in Nagaryll…” Lynch sipped his wine, then smiled knowingly. “That’s what I’m thinking.”
“So you want my support regarding the natives in Nagaryll? I heard so of your people want to, let’s say, cleanse part of the local population?”
Mr. Patric raised an eyebrow and twitched his fingers around the glass. “Did they? I must’ve missed that.”
Lynch stared at him, and he stared back. Both knew the truth—Patric was one of the staunchest supporters of such a plan.
Hiring natives to mine ant paying wages, compensating deaths, and dealing with the consequences. But if you used slaves—if they died, they died.
No wages, no compensation, no public condemnation. No one would fight for a slave.
But now, he felt that Lynch’s approach might actually be more profitable.
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