March 5th, 893.
Poul Nielsen stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, peering down at the empire that he and Jonathan had painstakingly built over the course of a decade. The sprawling city and factories, workings going to and fro, and the electric trams gliding along the streets below painted a picture of industrial prosperity and modern marvels.
Lost in thought, Poul was momentarily taken aback when the telephone mounted on his table rang, breaking the silence of his reverie.
"Must be another client or a factory manager huh?" Poul guessed as he turned around and approached the table. He lifted the receiver and held it to his ear.
"Hello?" he ventured tentatively.
A crackling hiss filled the line, and then a voice emerged. "Mr. Nielsen, this is Morgan."
"Ah, Morgan!" Poul exclaimed, a genuine smile crossing his lips now. "It's been a while since I last heard your voice. How can I help you?"
