The familiar streets of Garg greeted Fornos as he stepped out of the train station, Brassheart at his side. The golem engine had been delayed by half a day, but Fornos wasn't bothered. His mind was already focused on the next phase—reinforcing the company's internal structure.
Back at the family mansion, he unloaded his case onto his desk, ignoring the stack of unopened letters piled next to it. He sat back, letting the fatigue of travel sink in. Brassheart moved to a corner, where it remained still as a statue, awaiting its next command.
A servant knocked at the door and entered, bowing politely. "Master Fornos, your parents are in the study. They wanted to know if you would join them for dinner."
"Later," Fornos replied. "First, I need to sort through these." He gestured at the heap of compensation checks and signed contracts. The servant bowed and left.
Sighing, Fornos began the tedious task of cataloging the checks, arranging them by value and priority. Most were compensation from terminated partnerships, meager sums compared to what the company had initially invested. Still, recovering even a fraction was preferable to nothing.
After a few hours, he finally leaned back, stretching his fingers. "This is going to take longer than expected," he muttered. "Brassheart, fetch me the revenue reports from the past quarter."
The golem moved to a nearby shelf, retrieving a thick ledger, and placed it on the desk. Fornos flipped through the pages, cross-referencing with the documents from his trip. The discrepancies were glaring. Several branches were consistently underperforming, failing to meet their sales targets for months.
The next day, after a few hours of rest, Fornos called a meeting. The conference room filled with branch managers and department heads, most of them nervous under his scrutinizing gaze.
"Let's start with the basics," Fornos began, his voice cold but measured. "Profit margins have dropped by six percent compared to the previous quarter. This is not due to market fluctuations but internal inefficiency. I've identified several branches that are underperforming. You all know who you are."
The tension in the room grew palpable. Fornos began listing names, each manager wincing as their branch was called out. "Some of you have failed to adapt your selling tactics to changing market demands. Others have not secured sufficient contracts despite available resources. Worst of all, a few branches haven't even been reporting correctly. I expect explanations."
One of the managers, a portly man named Callum, cleared his throat. "Master Fornos, the local market is saturated. The customers have been hesitant to invest in new goods."
Fornos raised an eyebrow. "Saturated? Or are you simply unable to innovate? When you signed your initial contract, you agreed to adapt to consumer demands. Have you considered focusing on specialty items or partnering with smaller craftsmen to diversify your inventory?"
Callum stammered, realizing he had no real defense. Fornos didn't let him continue. "You have one month to implement changes. If there's no improvement, I'll find someone who can manage it properly."
Turning his attention to another manager, a woman named Eris, he narrowed his eyes. "Your branch has failed to secure any new contracts for the past three months. Why?"
Eris hesitated. "Sir, the officials have become more demanding. Bribery is almost mandatory, and the costs are exceeding our budget."
"That's your excuse?" Fornos shot back. "It's not about paying the most; it's about paying just enough to be considered useful, but not so much that they grow greedy. Build relationships rather than just paying them off. Negotiate. Learn their needs."
Eris nodded, chastened. "Understood."
Next, Fornos addressed the marketing heads. "Some branches are pushing luxury goods in areas where practicality is valued. This is counterproductive. You need to adjust your strategy based on location. Stop trying to sell exotic silks in industrial districts. Focus on durable fabrics instead. And for artisan districts, highlight the craftsmanship rather than just the rarity."
He paused, giving his words time to sink in. "Change your tactics, or I will change personnel. Am I understood?"
A chorus of nervous affirmatives filled the room. Fornos made a mental note of those who seemed unwilling to change. They would need closer monitoring.
After the meeting, he returned to his office. Brassheart was polishing its brass-plated joints, a habit Fornos had instilled to keep it in top condition. He absentmindedly watched the golem work while going through the notes he had taken during the meeting.
His father, Voss, appeared at the door, giving a small nod of approval. "Efficiently done. You didn't spare their pride, but you also didn't break it."
Fornos glanced up. "If I don't push them, they'll continue making excuses. We can't afford complacency."
Voss walked in, sitting opposite his son. "True. But remember, too much pressure can make people brittle. Sometimes, showing a bit of trust can yield better results."
Fornos considered the advice but didn't respond. Voss watched him for a moment, then spoke again. "I heard about the jewel deal in Vardan. Well done."
"It was a simple negotiation. The craftsman understood the value of a consistent buyer."
"And the companies you cut ties with?"
"They were wasting resources. I've already reinvested the funds into the reliable ones."
Voss gave a slow, approving nod. "Your decisions have been sound, but remember not to isolate yourself. Business isn't just numbers. It's also relationships."
Fornos gave a faint smile. "I know. I just prefer to approach them logically."
Voss didn't press further. Instead, he patted Fornos on the shoulder before leaving the room.
When the door closed, Fornos looked at the papers once more. His father's words lingered in his mind. He knew Voss was right about relationships, but in his experience, people were unreliable unless tightly managed. Trust was not something he gave lightly.
Later that evening, Fornos finalized the restructuring plans. The branches were assigned new quotas, and guidelines for adapting selling strategies were issued. Those who failed to adapt would be replaced—he had made that clear.
As he sealed the documents, he glanced at Brassheart. "What do you think? Am I being too harsh?"
The golem, of course, remained silent. Fornos smirked. "Thought so."
Lying in bed that night, he couldn't help but think of how his father handled things—always finding a balance between strictness and encouragement. Fornos preferred control, but perhaps a softer touch wouldn't hurt every now and then.
Still, he couldn't afford to slow down. The world didn't care about feelings or loyalty—only results. And Fornos intended to deliver them, no matter the cost.
As sleep finally claimed him, his thoughts circled back to one conclusion: To dominate, he needed to be efficient, ruthless, and adaptable. Relationships could wait. Results couldn't.