The following day, Ken woke up groggy. Typically, especially when Ken naturally wakes up, people would want to remain in bed and sleep for much longer. And this is paradise compared to the beds on the boat, but the bed Ken slept on is still something that could never touch beds back home. He had no desire to laze about on what is essentially a soft plank covered with cloth.

Standing up straight, Ken yawns and stretches his arms out wide. He rubs his eyes and looks at his backpack. It will have to stay in the room; it’s far too heavy to be carrying around every day. Quickly checking that everything is in place and nothing is tampered with, he grabs his combat knives and places them on their respective sheath. One on his right side of his waist, another one on his left thigh. He picks up his Glock 19 and places it in a shoulder holster on his left side after making sure it is loaded. Next, he grabs his coat and puts it on, nicely concealing his weapons. Reaching into his backpack, he takes out a pouch and fills it with money stored in his backpack. Unlocking the door, he heads out.

.

.

Despite the early hour, many people are already awake and doing whatever morning tasks they had to do. The city square had also quickly gotten crowded the moment the sun rose above the horizon. Making his way to the west side of the square, Ken sees a stone wall that stretches to both sides. It isn’t massive, but it isn’t tiny either. Men in chainmail armor guard a gate, and he sees that a few people are entering and exiting without much problem.

Approaching the gate, he sees a few people are stopped and questioned by the guards while others enter. The difference that he could see is that those who entered without a problem are better dressed. Those who are stopped and questioned presented themselves as part of the lower class. Almost nervously, Ken made his way through the gate; no one stops him. It must be his clothing that made the guards think he is more important.

Once inside the district, there are many large stone buildings. In the distance and at the center is a colossal manor that screams excellence and prosperity. That must be where the Duke resides.

One of the nearer buildings has the words ‘Town Hall’ above its doors. It must be the town hall. Entering, he is met with a grand interior with wide-open floor space with a ceiling untouchable without the largest of ladders. The floor is covered in red fabric, and many people are wandering about. On either side of the building are counters with neatly dressed people behind them. It gives Ken the image of bank tellers. Seeing nothing else of interest, Ken walks up to one of the tellers.

“Good day sir, how may I be of assistance?” asks an older man behind the counter.

“Hello, this is the town hall, correct?” Ken asks.

“Yes, that is correct. Is there anything you need?”

“I’m looking for property to buy.”

The man then takes out a large book from under the counter and opens it up. “What sort of property? A house? A store?”

“I’m looking to found and register a new company,” Ken says. “Something like a large building with lots of office space for planning and management.”

The man looks at Ken with doubt, as if he is crazy. “Sir, something like that would cost you an incredible amount of money. You must be sure you can afford it,” he says with a serious face.

Ken then flashes his pouch of money. “I can afford it, no problem.”

The man then takes out several pieces of paper from under the counter and spreads them out. They seem to be registration forms of some sort. Handing them over to Ken along with a quill, he tells Ken that the company registration fee is a pound.

After handing over the coin from his pouch, Ken takes a few minutes to fill out the forms while the man flips through the properties book to a few selections. Returning the documents, the man looks through to check that everything is filled correctly. Unexpectedly, the man looks up at Ken as if disapproving and judging him.

“These are all the largest properties in the city. Perfect for a company headquarters,” says the man while pointing at the book. “Take your pick.”

While the man takes the registration forms and fills out other paperwork, Ken looks through the selections in the book. Just like the man said, these are all expensive. As he looks through the properties, he is searching for one with a specific quality. One that looks defendable and secure. He comes across a few that fit the description, but only one has another quality that Ken wants. He found this one built with a large amount of stone and is located halfway to the docks from the Castle Ward District, at a four-way intersection. Even better, the building only has one entrance and a few windows. This is about as perfect as he can hope for.

“These two are the properties I want to buy,” Ken says, pointing at the book.

The man looks at the book and then up at Ken with a straight face. “That is two hundred pounds total. Can you pay that?”

“Yes, I can,” Ken says as he takes out his pouch and starts to count the coins.

After a few painful minutes of counting, Ken hands over the two hundred pounds. The man takes the coins and starts counting them himself to make sure it is the correct amount. After another few painful minutes of waiting and the man confirms the payment.

In Entesia, the currency used is a modified version of the dollar due to American control. While precious metals such as gold, silver, and platinum are still occasionally accepted as currency in certain places, they are mostly obsolete in most of the world as the materials are simply too valuable for other purposes. Strangely, when the Americans arrived in the world in the mid-twentieth century, pence and pounds is the currency. Coincidentally, when the Venesians arrived in the western hemisphere, they also used pence and pounds as their currency, much to the bafflement of the Americans. However, their value varied in comparison to other nations. It was soon learned that most countries used pence and pounds, which gives the Entesian operatives an advantage. The currency is worth little in Entesia, and counterfeiting is very easy. And so, the EIA gave all agents thousands of coins in counterfeit currency that is in every way legitimate in everyone else’s eyes.

“Here are your documents. These should be sufficient for the time being. Come back in a few days to receive the complete set of documents after we properly go through the process,” says the man.

“Thank you,” Ken says as he grabs the documents and heads towards the door.

“That was easy,” Ken says to himself as he reaches for the door handle.

Suddenly, the door flings open, nearly hitting Ken on his head. Stepping back to gather himself, Ken sees two men in very fancy clothing enter the building, one of them with a cane. They wear coats that are black with gold embroidering. With jewelry sparkling from their fingers, these men personified wealth.

“My my, what do we have here?” says one of the men.

“It seems you nearly knocked over one of the common folk,” says the other.

Ken only stares and doesn’t say anything.

“Out of our way, filth! Why have you come here? Just to beg for scraps?” sneers the man with the cane.

“Not at all. I just came to register my company,” says Ken.

“Ha! You? A company? Don’t make me laugh! Peasants have no place in the world of business.”

“Sorry but, who are you two exactly?” asks Ken.

“How could you possibly not know who we are? Ignorant fool! We are representatives of the STC, the largest company in the world.”

Hearing this, Ken regretted coming to the town hall. He hates these sorts of people but didn’t want to cause further issues.

“I’m sorry m’lord, for not recognizing you sooner,” Ken says with a slight bow, almost sarcastically.

“It’s nice to see you recognize your inferiority. Be thankful I’m in a good mood today. Now run along with the rest you trash. Just don’t take our leniency for weakness. You’ll soon regret it if you do.”

With that, the two men walk past Ken with their heads held up high. Ken walks out the door, annoyed. He had a strong urge to punch either of the two men for their excessive arrogance. But they seem too important to create a conflict with, so he restrained himself.

“Assholes…” he whispers.

He is now the owner of his own company. What he thought would be the most challenging step is completed relatively quickly. Now he needed resources. Above all else, he needs to make a name for himself and gain as much influence as possible. This is his task. In this feudal society, those who stand above the rest are of nobility or wealthy backgrounds. Being a noble isn’t going to happen without wealth or recognition from the royal family; therefore, his best option is to become a businessman. But to build a corporate empire from scratch is not feasible for the immediate urgency expressed by his superiors.

.

.

Ken had gone to inspect the two properties he bought. The most extensive and expensive is, of course, to be the headquarters of his company. The other is a house. It’s a simple two-story house, much better than most people could afford by a longshot, but he didn’t want to be living in an inn or with roommates in someone else’s house or apartment.

First, he inspects the soon-to-be headquarters. It is exactly as described in the book: massive, sturdy, one entrance, few windows. It is right at the corner of an intersection where no one could miss it. The interior is mainly empty with wooden floors and wooden stairs, but they show signs of age. There is also no light source from the lack of windows, and Ken would have to purchase candles. He makes a mental note that he would eventually try to design and build a generator along with lightbulbs to lighten up the place, or perhaps get some imported from Entesia somehow.

Seeing nothing else, Ken went to the house he bought, which is actually down the road across the street from the headquarters. The proximity is a big reason he chose it, and when he arrived, he couldn’t help but feel a strange fuzzy feeling. Walking inside, he is immediately reminded of how different his world is from this one. No electricity, rickety construction materials, hell, there aren’t even toilets or showers. He will have to bathe in a barrel of water and shit through a hole leading to buckets that had to be replaced every day. It is a humbling experience, but he can’t live like this forever. Looking throughout the second floor, he is relieved to see that there is at least a bed, but even that isn’t much better than the inn. The house, however, is at least his, which is more than most could say.

Having made his way back to the inn, he gathers his stuff and swings his backpack over his shoulder. He gives his goodbyes to Adeline and goes to settle into his new house. He is lucky that the previous owners had left some furniture in an empty room on the second floor. Dropping his backpack, he opens it up to take out various items. He stores his money in a few areas he thinks are safest, as well as a few magazines he brought for his firearm.

He also takes out several thick books and documents and sets them on a nearby table. These items, in particular, may just very well be the most valuable among all his stuff. That cluster of books and documents would be the key to a successful business. Within them are illustrations and detailed descriptions, formulas, and blueprints of various machines and other technologies that he would develop through his company.

Finally, the next item he takes out is a small short-range handheld radio to communicate with his teammates, who are likely scattered around the city collecting information.

Having settled his stuff in his new house, he walks outside and makes his way towards Marc’s store. He was given its address the previous day at the tavern. It is on the north side of town, near the massive gate in the city’s wall. Ken walks along the road swiveling his head from left to right, attempting to spot the store. After several minutes, he could see a sign in the distance that read ‘Lenning’s Armory’. That must be it.

Opening the door, Ken sees shelves full of swords and armor pieces displayed elegantly. To his surprise, though, the store is empty—no customers or employees, not even Marc himself.

“Marc! You in here?!” Ken yells, but no response.

Ken decides to wander around and take a look at what is for sale. Mostly swords, knives, bows, and armor pieces. Some iron, others look to be steel. Fancier and more expensive equipment is displayed on the wall. Interestingly, some of them have a slight glow on the blade. Looking further, Ken also finds a few strange crystals emitting weak luminescent light. He picks one up and feels a tingling sensation on his fingertips. He recognizes these as having magical properties.

Before even crossing the portal to Adon, he was briefed about magic and some of its properties. He learned that magical capabilities are attributed to a mutated gene only found on Adon that gave people slight supernatural powers. Only elves are confirmed to have this gene throughout the entire race, but researchers learned that mixed people could inherit the gene from an elf parent. Ken's problem is that he isn’t informed of the full extent of the capabilities of magic.

The crystal Ken holds, in contrast, contains raw magical energy. No one yet can figure out how, not even what element it is. It simply doesn’t exist on the periodic table. They only know that it emits harmless but bizarre rays of radiation. If manipulated correctly, anyone could temporarily gain supernatural powers from the mineral’s magical energy. And these minerals are mined and sold very commonly in Weslec, Kinzad, and Renera, the three continents of the western hemisphere. It is likely to be the same here in Scorcia, in the continent of Salain.

Magic. To think that the US Government couldn’t give the phenomenon a better name. It makes Ken smile just thinking about it. It is truly a bizarre world.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marc appears, holding a large wooden shield. Setting the magic crystal back on the shelf, Ken walks over to Marc.

“Where are you, man? I’ve been here waiting for a few minutes.”

“Greetings Ken, I was busy in the back taking inventory. Couldn’t hear anything,” Marc says, putting the shield down.

“Busy day, huh?” Ken says while waving his hand around the store.

“I suppose this is about as busy as it gets lately. I’ve told you before, competition from other merchants is giving me a beating.”

“Right, right, must be tough.”

“So, what brought you here? Not just to say hello, no?”

“Yeah, yesterday you said something about a banquet at the Duke’s castle, right?”

“That’s right, having been established here for some time, I got an invitation. Why? Would you want to get in?”

“Precisely,” says Ken with a finger up. “But I’m curious what kind of people will be there. What kind of businesses they have, their assets. What they can offer, y’know?”

Mar suddenly laughs at Ken’s statement.

“Ken, my friend. You must not get ahead of yourself. The kind of people who will attend the banquet is in no short supply of anything. As much as I like you, I don’t think you’ll be able to offer them anything. Especially if you are just a single person.”

“Ah well, brace yourself, Marc. Because I am a special kind of individual.” Ken clears his throat. “Have I mentioned yet that I am now the owner of a registered company?”

“Ha! Really? You don’t say. So you truly went to the City Hall after all. Have you bought a store as well? Or perhaps you’ll be operating a cart at the market?” He smiles.

Ken grins wide with sudden pride. “In fact, I bought myself both a house and a large building to act as headquarters.”

Marc’s face slightly distorts at Ken’s claim. “Two properties, Ken? Even the cheapest aren’t cheap. How much did you spend?”

“Two hundred pounds,” Ken says bluntly.

Marc’s jaw drops after listening to the cost. It is an enormous price in every sense of the word. Even his store cost him forty pounds which is already more than most could hope to afford.

“How in the heavens have you got so much money? Even I couldn’t have afforded that!”

“It’s a long story. I inherited it from my late parents, who recently passed away. I'd rather not get into the details if you don’t mind.”

“Oh right, sure, sure. But it is still an incredible amount of money. You’re not nobility, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Ken says. “They are just really wealthy. But enough about me, let’s talk about the banquet.”

“Right, the attending guests will certainly have their hand in pretty much anything. Mining, shipbuilding, manufacturing, transportation, agriculture, spices, everything. If you want to get on their good sides, offering them money won’t do. They’ll be seeking profitable business deals. If you can offer one, they’ll come to you.”

“And you can help me get in, right?” Ken asks.

“Of course, invited guests are allowed to bring their own guests. As of late, I haven’t been attending recent banquets for personal reasons, so you will have to convince me.”

Ken chuckles and smiles. Of course, Marc would try to bargain. Why wouldn’t he?

“All right, all right. What do you want?”

“If you can strike a deal with any of them, which I’ll be honest, I don’t think you will. I want a piece of the profits.”

“All right, how about this? If I can strike a deal, I will give you a management position within my company to help me run it and invest in your store.”

Marc thinks about the proposal for a bit and decides to take it.

“All right, fine. That’ll do. So tell me, Ken. What company are you the owner of? I would like to get familiar with my future benefactor.”

“Ardai Industries.”