Creating an Industrial Empire in 19th Century Parallel World

January 9, 882 in the continental calendar. A horse-drawn carriage was in the main gate of the Axelsen & Nielsen Air Brake Company. Inside the carriage was John Morgan and the other was a famous military general that participated in the United States of Avalonia Civil War, William Sherman.

"Morgan, are you sure that these two can provide me what I need for my army?" Sherman asked as he puffed a cigar.

"You can trust me with this. The two gentlemen that we are about to meet are genius in their own right. In just two years their company became one of the fastest-rising companies in Avalonia. Invented a mechanical device that allows trains to stop in an instant using compressed air, cushion the forces of the train, and lastly, devised a signaling system that would allow for safe locomotive transportation."

"Yeah I know, I have read it myself. What I want to know is if they can make firearms. I didn't come here for an air brake," Sherman said.

"I'm not sure myself but it's worth a try. If they can build those mechanical devices, I'm sure they can make firearms."

"I just hope that they are not as pacifist as James Russel. To think that he would turn down a seven-million-dollar contract because he thought that inventing a weapon that takes the life of another man is inhumane. He's soft."

"I can assure you, these two aren't," Morgan said.

Finally, they arrived in front of the office of the two inventors. The building was small and modest, hardly the grand edifice that Sherman might have expected from a company that had achieved such success. Sherman took a moment to survey the structure, disappointment creasing his features.

"This is more like a house than an office," he observed, his voice laced with disappointment. "They're earning a lot of money, I'm sure they have the finances to commission the building of a proper office."

Despite Sherman's criticism, Morgan led him inside the building. The air inside was cool and still, a stark contrast to the noisy chaos outside. As they entered the modest office, the sound of whirring machinery faded into the background, replaced by the soft rustle of papers and the occasional squeak of a chair.

A young woman was working behind a desk, her eyes fixed on a stack of papers. As the men entered, she looked up, surprised, registering in her features.

"Mister Morgan?" she said, her eyes widening in recognition. "You didn't inform me that you were coming."

Morgan nodded in greeting, his face serious. "I'm sorry, who might you be?"

The young woman stood, smoothing her skirt and performing a graceful curtsy. "Greetings, sirs. My name is Amelia Weiss, and I work as the executive secretary in this company."

Sherman's eyes roamed over the young woman, taking in her lithe figure and delicate features. She stood tall, her height easily surpassing that of most women, and her slender form was accentuated by the curve of her ample bosom. Her skin was like porcelain, unblemished and smooth, while her hair shimmered in the light, a deep navy-blue shade pulled back in a neat bun.

But it wasn't just her physical beauty that caught Sherman's attention. As she stood there, poised and confident, he could sense a subtle power emanating from her. Despite her youth, there was a quiet authority in her demeanor that suggested she was more than just a simple secretary.

"Where are Poul and Jonathan?" Morgan asked.

"They are in the drawing room, working. Would you like me to go and get them here?" Amelia asked.

"Yes please, tell him that they have a very important visitor."

Amelia's eyes darted towards Sherman, and lingered on him, taking in every detail of his imposing figure. He stood tall at six feet, his broad shoulders and muscular build emanating power and control. His piercing blue eyes glinted with intensity, commanding respect and attention from anyone in his vicinity. His chiseled jawline and high cheekbones were accentuated by a square face, giving him a rugged and unyielding demeanor. Short, light brown hair was cropped in a military style, and a thick mustache completed his no-nonsense appearance. The crisp blue military uniform he wore added to his distinguished bearing and made him all the more impressive.

"My name is William Sherman, young lady," he spoke in a resonant, deep voice that demanded attention.

"William Sherman...the famous general during the civil war? I have heard a lot about you. It is an honor to meet you in person," Amelia replied, her voice soft and respectful.

"The honor is mine, young lady. Now please go and call the two inventors here."

With a polite bow, Amelia excused herself and made her way to the drawing room in office building B. There, Poul and Jonathan were engrossed in a conversation, but her arrival caught their attention.

"Sir Nielsen, Sir Axelsen, you have a visitor," she announced.

"A visitor? I don't recall having an appointment today. If they're a walk-in, they'll have to come back tomorrow. Jonathan can handle them. I have a trip to New York tonight," Poul responded, brushing off the interruption.

"But, it's not just any visitor, Sir Nielsen," Amelia insisted, her voice growing more urgent.

"Who is it then? Another big client? I'll take care of them if that's the case," Poul asked.

Shaking her head, Amelia replied, "No, it's Mister Morgan and Sherman. They're waiting for both of you at the office right now."

Poul and Jonathan's eyes widened in surprise, disbelief etched on their faces. "Wait, did you just say, Morgan and Sherman? The richest financier and one of the greatest generals in the United States of Avalonia?" Jonathan exclaimed, his voice filled with amazement.

Amelia simply nodded, the gravity of the situation not lost on her. The presence of such important figures could mean only one thing. Business opportunity. Poul and Jonathan exchanged a look, both understanding the importance of this meeting.

Without further ado, they made their way to the office, their steps quickening with every passing moment. As they entered, their eyes were immediately drawn to the two men sitting in front of them. John Morgan, the renowned financier, sat with a calm and collected expression, his sharp gaze taking in every detail of their surroundings. General Sherman, on the other hand, exuded a more imposing presence, his features set in a stern and serious expression.

"Mister Morgan, Mister Sherman. It's an honor to have both of you in our office. Could we offer you something to drink?"

"A tea would do," Morgan said.

Jonathan shot a glance at Amelia. Amelia understood what those eyes meant. She excused herself, leaving the office to brew tea for the visitors.

Jonathan and Poul straightened their jackets before taking their seats in their respective chairs.

"Mister Morgan, it is fortuitous that you have graced our company with your presence at this hour. Had it been delayed by a day, I would not have had the pleasure of meeting you," Poul remarked.

"Why is that?" Morgan inquired.

"I am departing for New York this evening, but I am certain that Jonathan shall attend to your needs," Poul replied.

"I understand. As a matter of fact, I have come to meet with both of you on a matter of some importance," Morgan stated.

"We are most intrigued," Jonathan interjected. "We are curious to know why a general of the United States Army has sought our audience."

"Mister Sherman and I paid a visit to the White House some two days ago. We had an audience with the President to discuss the seven-million-dollar contract that James Russel declined," Morgan disclosed.

Poul was intrigued by the mention of the deal. "What contract did James Russel refuse?"

"We had hoped that Mr. Russel would manufacture a weapon for us," Morgan revealed.

"We are here to request your assistance, hoping that you would accept this offer," Sherman added.

Poul was taken aback by the proposal. "Do I understand correctly? You are asking us to construct a weapon? I regret to inform you that our company specializes in air brakes, locomotive draft gears, and signaling equipment for steam locomotives, not arms manufacture."

"We are well aware of that fact," Morgan replied.

"So, you are fully cognizant of our expertise and capabilities. But, have you considered the possibility that we are ill-equipped to construct firearms?" Poul asked in disbelief.

"That is precisely what we are hoping is not the case," Sherman replied.

Poul let out a sigh. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but we do not manufacture guns."

"On the contrary, we do," Jonathan interjected. "I am an expert in the field of gun manufacturing, and I believe we can fulfill your request. Seven million dollars is an offer that one cannot refuse."

Morgan and Sherman's interest was piqued by Jonathan's words, and they turned their attention to him.

"I beg your pardon, but may I have a moment with my colleague?" Poul requested, turning to Jonathan. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"I am accepting their offer," Jonathan simply replied, shifting his gaze to the two gentlemen. "So, do we have a deal?"

The corners of Morgan's lips curled upward. "That is precisely what I hoped to hear."

"I would like to request that you construct a prototype of the weapon. We will provide you with fifty thousand dollars in advance to acquire the necessary materials. Once the gun is completed, we will evaluate it, and if it meets our requirements, the United States Army will be honored to grant you the seven-million-dollar contract," Sherman offered.

"Agreed," Jonathan declared, standing up and extending his hand to shake hands with Morgan and Sherman.